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A fire crackled in the hearth of the
Manor House’s formal living room, creating an inviting atmosphere. Trixie,
Honey, and Di huddled around the warmth, pretending
to adjust the stockings hanging from the mantle. Amongst the busyness going
on around them, it was the perfect haven for the girls to share secrets. It was December twenty-third, and the Wheelers had invited
the citizens of Sleepyside to the Manor House for a Christmas party. Several
guests mingled throughout the first floor of the large mansion, chatting with
friends from the community. Desiring a moment to themselves,
the girls had searched for a spot where they would appear sociable, yet also
have a bit of privacy. The hearth proved to be an ideal place, since most of
the partygoers were either eating or standing in line at the buffet. The Bob-Whites
planned to have their own party later that evening. They had all purchased an
inexpensive one-or two-dollar gag gift for each club member, and the girls
were whispering about what they had selected for the boys. “Di, I can’t believe you bought Mart a pair of Santa boxer
shorts,” Honey giggled madly. “My eyes!” Trixie
cried. “My retinas are burning at the mere thought!” “Shhh!” Di hissed. Though her
violet eyes twinkled with mirth, her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. “I don’t
want anybody else to know.” “Well, Moms will sure find out when she does
the laundry,” Trixie pointed out with a snicker. Di flipped her shiny black hair off her shoulders. “Not
if she doesn’t wash them.” “Ewww,” Trixie muttered. Her pert nose wrinkled in disgust
as she shook her sandy curls, trying to dislodge the vile thought from her
long-term memory. “Mart wearing Santa Claus underwear is bad enough. But the
thought of him wearing dirty, smelly ones… Blech!!” Di placed her hands on her slender hips and glared at her
two friends. “He’s not supposed to wear
them. I’m just giving them to him as a joke.” “Whatever,”
Trixie murmured with a wave of her hand. Honey, always
the first one to notice when someone was uncomfortable, wisely decided to
change the subject. “So, what did you get for the boys, Trixie?” “I got Dan a
hairnet, so his perfect ‘do’ wouldn’t get messed up when he chops wood,”
Trixie answered. Then she turned to Honey with a saucy grin. “I found Brian
some light brown lip gloss since he likes to wear yours so much. “And for my almost-twin,” she
continued, turning to Di, “I have a tube of concealer so he can cover up any red spots that
mysteriously appear on his neck.” “Trixie!” Honey and Di gasped, drawing the attention of several guests. The
girls smiled sweetly at the curious onlookers, hoping they would appear
innocent. After the excitement had waned and
the attention shifted elsewhere, Honey folded her arms and quirked a brow at
Trixie. “So what did you get Jim?” “A fishing lure,” Trixie told them
flatly. “How very ‘Field and Stream’,” Di commented dryly. Honey nodded her head in agreement,
and then added in a sarcastic tone, “Yes, a perfectly perfect gift for that
dreamy woodsman you’ve been admiring from afar for so long.” Trixie looked crossly at them.
“What? Do you have a problem with me buying fake hellgrammites for Jim?” “Not at all,” Di
said with a smirk. “But if you’d toss out a different kind of bait, you might
hook Jim, instead of helping Jim hook a fish.” “Well, you can forget about me
buying him Santa skivvies,” Trixie said with a snort. “They make bra and panty sets for
women, you know,” Honey suggested brightly. “Maybe you use that as bait.” Trixie merely growled in response. “I have an idea,” Di announced grandly. She plucked a piece of mistletoe
from off the mantle and held it up. “Lingerie might be overdoing it. You just
want to catch your Boy Scout, not give him a heart attack. Why don’t you give
this to Jim and see what happens?” “I-I-I can’t give Jim mistletoe!”
Trixie sputtered, her cheeks blazing a brilliant red. “He’ll think I want to
kiss him.” “But you do want to kiss him,” Honey pointed out with a sigh of
exasperation. Trixie shifted
her gaze back to the mantle and wistfully traced the letters of Jim’s name
that had been embroidered on his stocking. “Yes, I want to kiss him, but I’d sort of like for it to be his idea.” Honey linked her left arm through
Trixie’s right one. “I know you do, sweetie,” she soothed. “But sometimes
these honorable boys need a kick in the pants.” With a smug smile, Diana wiggled the
small sprig that she held in her right hand. “Or a conveniently placed piece
of mistletoe.” “I’m not giving Jim mistletoe for Christmas,” Trixie snapped. “Aw, c’mon,” Honey cajoled. “What’ve
you got to lose?” “Not much,” Trixie commented dryly.
“Just my pride, my dignity, my self-esteem, m---” She stopped speaking as she
saw the male members of the Bob-Whites step through the doorway of the living
room. “Shhh! They’re coming!” Smiling wickedly at her sandy-haired
friend, Di wiggled the mistletoe again and waggled
her finely-sculpted eyebrows. “For the last time, I’m not giving Jim mistletoe!” Trixie
hissed. She frantically snatched the twig out of Diana’s hands and stuffed it
in the pocket of her black pinstriped dress slacks. “Here you are,” Brian greeted as the
boys approached the fireplace. “We couldn’t find you.” Honey rose up on her tiptoes and
kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. “You just weren’t looking in the right
places,” she told him. “Why are you over here by
yourselves?” Jim questioned. He looked at each of the girls, but for some
reason, his eyes lingered a bit longer on a certain sandy blonde. “Oh, we’re just having a little girl
talk,” Di answered with a sweet smile. “Nothing you
men would find interesting.” “So, you weren’t talking about us?”
Dan asked with a devilish grin and a waggle of his dark eyebrows. Trixie snorted as she tossed her
curls in disdain. “Yeah, you wish, Mangan.” Out of the corner of her eye, Honey
noticed Jim stiffen as he watched the interaction between Dan and Trixie. She
cleared her throat and changed the course of the conversation. “Where have
you boys been?” “Standing in line at the buffet,”
Jim answered. “The whole town was in line ahead of us. I thought we’d starve
before we could fill up our plates.” “Mart’s belly was growling so loud
that Mrs. Elliot thought a wild animal was on the loose,” Dan teased. “Hey, I’m a growing boy,” Mart
garbled through a mouthful of food. “Man, your mom sure can put on a spread,
Honey. Don’t you want something to eat?” “We’ve already eaten,” Di told him. Brian looked in surprise up from his
overflowing plate. “Don’t you want seconds?” “Unlike some people, we don’t make
fifty trips to the buffet,” Trixie chided. She shook her head disparagingly
at her older brothers. “Good grief! It looks like Moms doesn’t feed us at
home, so you’re stocking up.” “Forry vwe embarrarwaf voo,” Mart garbled, purposely talking with his mouth
full. “But we Beldens
ain’t got no table manners,” Brian added jokingly,
allowing bits of meatball to leak out of his mouth. “Gross,” Trixie muttered. “I can’t
take you two goobers anywhere.” “Perhaps if we sat down their
manners wouldn’t be so bad,” Honey suggested tactfully. “Hey, my manners aren’t bad,” Jim said defensively. “I’m using my
napkin and everything.” Di tilted her
head to the side and studied Mart. “Where’s your napkin, sweetie?” “I think he ate it,” Trixie
grumbled. “Let’s go sit down so these monkeys don’t make a mess.” She led the
way to the seating area of the room and plopped down on the loveseat. Honey
and Di exchanged a secret smile as they watched Jim
nonchalantly claim the spot beside her. “Gee whiz, Honey,” Dan commented as he moved
a Christmas pillow that was resting against the back of his chair. “Your
house has more holiday decorations in it than Macy’s. I’ve never seen so much
junk.” “Mother would keel over if she heard
you call her expensive décor ‘junk’,” Jim said with a chuckle. “She and the
maids spent hours turning the whole house into the North Pole.” “The whole house?” Trixie exclaimed in disbelief. “All fifty billion
rooms?” “All fifty billion rooms,” Jim
repeated with a lopsided grin. “Give or take a few.” “And I thought Moms was bad,” Brian
said with a roll of his eyes. “She loves Christmas decorations.” “Especially the ones we made in
elementary school,” Trixie added, wrinkling her nose. Mart snorted in agreement. “If I had
known she was going to keep that one-legged gingerbread man ornament that I
made in first grade, I would’ve thrown it out the bus window.” “Or at least not eaten the left
leg,” Trixie teased with a wink. To everyone’s surprise, Mart didn’t
take offense at his sister’s taunting. He merely nodded his head mournfully.
“It definitely didn’t taste like any gingerbread that I’d ever eaten before.” “That’s because they were covered
with a coat of water-based polyurethane,” Di gently
scolded as she gave her boyfriend a quick hug. “The ornaments were supposed
to be hung from your tree, not eaten.” “Tell that to a hungry six-year-old
who hadn’t had any sustenance since Brian shook his head in bemusement.
“It’s a miracle you’ve never had your stomach pumped.” “He’s still young,” Dan said with a snicker
as he leaned over to punch his best friend on the arm. “There’s still time.” “I think it’s sweet that your mom
saves things like that,” Honey told them. “Mother isn’t very sentimental, so
she never displays the things I made. Why, I doubt she even kept them.” “I’m sure your mom has them someplace,
Hon,” Trixie assured, giving her friend a consoling hug. “Of course she does!” Di chimed. “She probably has them packed away for
safekeeping.” Honey furrowed her brows as she
looked doubtfully at her friends. “Who does she need to keep them safe from?”
“Mart,” Brian teased as he grasped
Honey’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Mrs. Wheeler has probably seen
his teeth marks on the gingerbread man hanging on our Christmas tree.” “I’ve never made anything edible,”
she pointed out, stifling a grin. Mart merely shrugged. “Doesn’t
matter,” he replied good-naturedly. “If I’m hungry enough, I’ll eat
anything.” “What about you, Di?”
Jim inquired. “Does your mom still put up the things you made in school, or
has she replaced them with fancy junk?” “The crafts I made in elementary
school were lost when we moved,” Di said sadly.
“Mummy feels guilty about misplacing mine, so she doesn’t even display the
things the twins make.” “How sad,” Honey exclaimed
sympathetically. Trixie smiled brightly at her friends.
“I have an idea. During our break from school, the three of us could make
some ornaments. Then, both of you will have homemade crafts to display next
year and can be just as embarrassed as I am.” “Ooh!” Di
squealed in delight. “That sounds like fun.” Honey clapped her hands just like a
small child would, her hazel eyes sparkling from excitement. “Oh, Trixie!
What a perfectly perfect idea. After Christmas, let’s have a slumber party
and do that.” “It’s a deal,” Trixie agreed
happily, content that she could make her friends feel better. “Oh, goodie, Jim,” Dan teased. “Now
your mom will have even more crap to decorate with next year.” With a snort,
he gently kicked the pillow that he had discarded earlier. “Crap?”
Honey repeated in an insulted tone. However, the twinkle in her eyes showed
there was no offense taken. “Are you calling my Christmas crafts crap, Mangan?” “Not at all,” Dan declared
emphatically, his expression quite angelic. “I’m sure anything you make will
outshine all these designer decorations.” “Good answer,” Honey said with a
giggle as she leaned over to pat Dan’s hand. “And to show you I harbor no ill
feelings, I’ll even make an ornament just for you to hang on your tree at Mr.
Maypenny’s.” “That’s sweet of you, Honey, but we
don’t have a tree,” Dan replied matter-of-factly. “Mr. Maypenny
doesn’t put up a Christmas tree?” Di gasped, her violet eyes wide with surprise. “Nope,” Dan answered. “Well, look on the bright side, my
friend,” Mart said sagely. “That’s one less tree that you had to chop down
this winter.” Trixie cast a mean look at her
almost-twin, but then turned her attention to Dan. “How does Mr. Maypenny decorate for the
holidays?” “He doesn’t,” Dan told them. “He doesn’t decorate at all?” Honey
questioned softly. “Not even a stocking?” “Not even a stocking,” Dan told them
with a sad smile. “You know, some people don’t
celebrate Christmas,” Brian commented. “Maybe that’s why Mr. Maypenny doesn’t put a bunch of junk up.” “He celebrates Christmas,” Dan
informed them. “We exchange gifts, and he always reads the Christmas story.
He just doesn’t decorate the house.” “Why not?” Trixie asked curiously. “The first Christmas I was here, I
asked him,” Dan explained. “He told me that he used to have several
decorations, which he stored in a little outbuilding near the cabin. But a
few years ago, the building burned and everything in it was destroyed.” Di
nonchalantly wiped away a tear sliding down her cheek. “Didn’t he replace
them?” “He didn’t have any family nearby or any
close friends that came over for Christmas, so he never bought new ones. He
said it was silly to decorate the cabin just for himself,
and I can’t really blame him.” “That’s so sad,” Honey said with a
sniffle. “Aw, you girls are too sappy,” Mart
said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Guys don’t care about stuff like that.” Trixie snorted in disbelief. “Yeah
right, Mart. After Moms puts up the tree, you’re the first one to plug in the
lights every morning. And woe to the person who tries to unplug them before
bedtime.” “And remember the year you begged
Moms to leave up the tree until Easter?” Brian chuckled. “I think she humored
you till Valentine’s Day. By then, it was so dried out that Dad took it down.
He said it was a fire hazard.” Trixie nodded in agreement. “I
remember that. By the end of January, the poor tree had lost most of its
needles. Mart was so determined to keep it up that he watered it three times
a d---” “Okay,” Mart interrupted. “We get
the point. Even virile stallions such as myself
relish festive garnishment during the Yuletide season.” “Everybody
enjoys decorating for the holidays,” Di said,
voicing her support. She tucked her slender hand through Mart’s arm and
squeezed it gently. Honey’s compassionate gaze focused on Dan.
“Would you like Christmas
decorations in the cabin, Dan?” “I guess so,” he answered a bit
shyly. “My mom always put stuff up in our apartment. We didn’t have anything
fancy, but we had a lot of fun.” Trixie didn’t miss the wistful
expression on Dan’s face as he talked about the memories of his mother and
Christmas. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. Suddenly, an idea
popped in her head, and she began bouncing on the loveseat excitedly. “I
think the Bob-Whites should decorate Mr. Maypenny’s
cabin for the holidays!” “What?” Brian’s dark eyebrows
narrowed as he looked at his sister in surprise. “We have some money in the treasury,” Trixie
gushed, her blue eyes sparkling in anticipation at the prospect of a new
project. “I move we buy some decorations for Mr. Maypenny’s
cabin. “Trixie, that’s really sweet of you
to offer, but all the stores are closed for the evening,” Dan told her. “What about tomorrow?” Trixie asked
stubbornly, refusing to believe that her plan was impossible. Jim smiled affectionately at her.
“Trix, I’m pretty sure the stores aren’t open on Christmas Eve,” he told her
as he consolingly patted her arm. “Jim’s right,” Di
replied hesitantly. “Mummy and I were in Crimpers
today, and there was a sign posted on the door saying that all the stores
would be closed on December twenty-fourth and
fifth.” “I’m sorry, Trixie,” Honey said.
“It’s a great idea, but we may have to wait until next year to get those
decorations.” “We can’t wait!” Trixie wailed
mournfully as she clutched her sandy curls. “We have to find Mr. Maypenny some
Christmas stuff or I’ll just die!” Brian looked around the room
nervously. “Gee, Trix, why don’t you yell a little louder,” he said
sarcastically. “I don’t think the people in the kitchen heard you.” Before Trixie could argue, Mrs. Vanderpoel, who had been standing in front of the
fireplace with Brom, walked over to the group. “I couldn’t help but overhear your
conversation, dear,” the elderly lady said kindly. Trixie was tempted to stick her
tongue out at her gloating, eldest brother; however, since Mrs. Vanderpoel was blocking her view, she resisted the urge.
“I’m sorry for being too loud,” she apologized. “I’ll try not to be so
noisy.” “Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said with a chuckle. “This is a party, not a
funeral. I didn’t come over here to scold you, my dear.” Trixie breathed a sigh of relief.
“You didn’t?” “Of course not,” Mrs. Vanderpoel assured her. “Did my old ears deceive me, or
did I hear that you wanted to purchase some Christmas decorations for Mr. Maypenny?” “You heard correctly,” Mart replied.
“However, my well-intentioned sibling forgot that tomorrow was a holiday and
that the town’s trade establishments won’t be operating.” Mrs. Vanderpoel
smiled benevolently at the group. “I’ve collected Christmas decorations for
over fifty years. I have several boxes stored in the attic, just gathering
dust. I’d be happy to give those to Mr. Maypenny.” Dan shook his head. “That’s sweet of
you, Mrs. V., but I couldn’t let you do that.” “Dan’s right, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Honey agreed politely. “If you gave away all
your holiday things, how would you decorate your house?” “Pshaw,” Mrs. Vanderpoel
said with a chuckle. “I have plenty of do-dads for my home. I keep all my favorites
in one of the closets downstairs. I could never resist the after-Christmas
sales, so I’ve collected more things than I know what to do with.” “Are you sure?” Di
questioned hesitantly. “What if you need them someday?” “Oh, I’ll never need them,” Mrs. Vanderpoel said. Her eyes twinkled as she pointed
conspiratorially to Brom. “Somebody says I have far too many holiday trinkets as it is. He
even calls me Mrs. Claus.” Trixie held her breath as she
anxiously looked at her friends, hoping they would be in agreement. Jim
laughed as he met her eager gaze. “I suppose I’d better accept your
offer before Trixie explodes,” he said as he teasingly tugged one of Trixie’s
curls. “We really appreciate it, Mrs. V.” “I’m glad I could help,” Mrs. Vanderpoel replied. “I’d much rather someone use them than have them sit there.” “Thank you!” Trixie exclaimed as she
jumped up to hug the old woman. “I know he’ll appreciate it so much.” “It’s my pleasure.” Mrs. Vanderpoel glanced back at Brom,
but then turned to the Bob-Whites and winked at them. “And the best part is
that now I can tell Brom that all those extra
decorations weren’t a waste of
money.” Dan hopped up from his chair and
kissed the old woman’s plump cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. V. You’re the best.” “Anything for you, dear,” she
answered as she tenderly patted his cheek. “Tom is driving me to the train
station early tomorrow morning, so Madeleine has asked me to stay here
tonight. You children are welcome to go to my house and get those boxes
anytime you wish. I hide an extra key in the blue flowerpot on the front
porch.” “We’ll be sure and put it back after
we finish,” Trixie promised. “Where are the decorations in your attic?” “There are five or six boxes by the
window. Feel free to take them all, dear,” Mrs. Vanderpoel
insisted as she walked away. After she left, Trixie excitedly
jumped up and down. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Mart narrowed his blue eyes and
studied his sister with uncertainty. “Go where?” “To Mrs. Vanderpoel’s
house, silly!” Trixie announced joyfully. “How are you getting there?” Brian
asked dryly. “It’s a long walk in this kind of weather.” Trixie giggled nervously. “Very
funny, Bri. You’re driving me, of course.” “Sure, I’ll drive you.” Brian braced
himself before adding nervously, “After the party’s over.” “But that won’t be for several
hours,” Trixie complained impatiently. “I’ll just die if we can’t go right
now!” “If you do die, can I have your
room?” Mart asked with an impish twinkle in his blue eyes. Trixie cast an indignant sniff in
her almost-twin’s direction. “Get serious, Mart. Up and at ‘em, everyone. The Bob-Whites have work
to do.” “You’re kidding, right?” Di questioned incredulously. “We’re not dressed to go
digging around in an attic. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” “Yeah, Trixie,” Dan agreed. “Let’s
enjoy the party, and then we’ll go to Mrs. V.’s first thing in the morning.” Mart smiled sympathetically at his
sister. “I know you’re excited, Trix, but surely you can wait a few hours. We
haven’t even opened our gag gifts yet.” “We can do that tomorrow night,”
Trixie suggested. “Isn’t anyone else curious about what’s in those boxes?” Jim looked fondly at her. “Good
things come to those who wait, Shamus,” he reminded her with a teasing smile.
“Those boxes will still be there in the morning.” All of Trixie’s previous enthusiasm
began to fade. She looked hopefully at her hazel-eyed friend, knowing if
Honey wasn’t on her side, then it was a lost cause. “Want to see if Regan
will drive us, Hon?” “Trixie, I can’t leave the party,”
Honey insisted, her tone gentle yet firm. “It’s not even Trixie lowered her head as she
nervously traced an invisible pattern on the area rug with the pointed toe of
her black dress shoe. After a moment, she sheepishly peeked up at Honey. “So,
you wanna sneak out?” Honey cast a disparaging glance at
her best friend. “Trixie…” “I’m joking!” Trixie interrupted. “I
give up. We’ll wait until tomorrow.” She lowered her head in defeat, knowing
additional arguing would be futile. “Well, now that that’s decided, what
do we want to do?” Brian asked in an attempt to change the subject. Di tilted her
head towards the doorway. “Hey, is that music I hear?” she asked. “Where’s it
coming from?” “The ballroom,” Honey answered.
“Mother hired a band to play Christmas songs. She thought everyone might want
to dance.” “Ooh! I just love dancing to a live
band,” Di cooed. She turned to Mart and batted her
violet eyes at him. Mart, easily picking up on Di’s hint, stood and bowed grandly before her.
“Mademoiselle, may I have the honor of escorting you to the dance floor?” Di rose
gracefully. “I would be honored,” she replied with a dainty curtsey. She
accepted the arm that Mart offered to her and followed him out the door. Honey looked up at Brian, her thick
lashes lowered flirtatiously. “What about you, Mr. Belden? Would you like to
dance?” “It would be my pleasure,” Brian
replied. Honey smiled as she slipped her hand
in his. Before they walked away, she turned to Trixie. “I’ll see you in a few
minutes,” she said, casting a meaningful glance in Jim’s direction. Dan glanced at Trixie, then at Jim,
and finally back to Trixie. “I’m gonna see if there
are any unattached hotties in there that need some
company,” he said with a wink. “Have fun,” Trixie answered, her
tone a bit glum. Dan patted her arm sympathetically.
“Hey, if you get a ride to Mrs. V.’s, let me know and I’ll go with you.” “Thanks, Dan,” she murmured, trying
to muster a smile. “Now get in the ballroom and work your magic on some poor
unsuspecting female.” Trixie sighed loudly as Dan made his
exit, knowing her hopes to go to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s
had come to an end. She gasped as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.
Startled, she looked up into a pair of deep, green eyes. “You know, Shamus, Brian’s not the
only one with his driver’s license,” Jim drawled, dangling a set of keys in
front of her. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in accompanying me to Mrs.
Vanderp---” Before he could even finish, Trixie
impulsively threw her arms around him and engulfed him in a huge hug. “Oh,
Jim! You’re the best!” Suddenly shy and self-conscious, she released him and
shuffled her feet nervously, cringing as she felt the familiar red heat
creeping up from her neck to her cheeks. “I’ll go warm up the car,” he told
her, his mouth forming that lopsided grin that Trixie adored. Not being able
to resist, Jim reached out and gave his favorite curl a gentle tug. “Get your
coat and meet me outside.” Trixie nodded her agreement, afraid
to speak. Her body was tingling after its contact with Jim’s, and a tiny part
of her wanted to pull out that mistletoe from her pocket, hold it above them,
and see what would happen. However, a much larger part of her decided that would
be a monumentally foolish idea. She gulped loudly as she stared into
his emerald orbs. The seconds that passed felt more like hours. “I-I’ll go
tell Dan,” she stuttered nervously, eager to break the uncomfortable silence. Jim’s body stiffened, but he immediately
recovered with a smile. “Okay. I’ll be waiting in the Bob-White station
wagon.” Trixie scurried off to the ballroom
in search of Dan. Once the soles of her dress shoes met the slick surface of
the dance floor, she went skidding. Thankfully, she regained her balance
before she wiped out the beverage table. Standing on her tiptoes, she looked
through the crowd for any sign of him. Her gaze quickly fell upon Mart and
Diana as they glided past her on the dance floor. Though she was several feet
away from them, Trixie could almost hear the satiny folds of Di’s skirt swish as Mart twirled her around. She smiled
wistfully as she noticed the way Mart looked down adoringly at Di as they danced. Di coyly
giggled up at him, enchanting him with her picture-perfect smile. I don’t
think Di’s ever looked more beautiful, Trixie
thought, fighting a twinge of jealousy as she marveled at her friend’s grace.
No wonder Mart asked her to go steady. Nearby, Brian and Honey danced
closely with one another. Her cheek rested upon the shoulder of his gray
sport coat, the expression on her face one of total bliss. Trixie smiled
affectionately at her best friend, admiring her slender figure in her green
velvet dress. Honey looks
so pretty and feminine, Trixie mused. Her green dress makes her look so sophisticated, and the color is
just perfect for her. She looked down at her own red,
cowl-necked sweater and black wool trousers. Moms had tried to persuade her
to wear a fancy dress, but Trixie had insisted that this outfit would be
fine. Now she was having second thoughts. Maybe if I
looked prettier, Jim would’ve asked me to dance… Trixie dismissed the wistful thought
from her head, reminding herself that she would much rather help Mr. Maypenny than waste her evening dancing. She resumed her
search for Dan, and finally found him standing near the stage. In her usual
impetuous style, she gave a shrill whistle to draw his attention. Through the
din of the crowd, Dan heard the call and walked over to her. “What’s up?” he asked curiously. “Is
Pierre Lontard trying to steal Mrs. Wheeler’s
holiday crap?” “Jim’s driving us to Mrs. V.’s,”
Trixie explained excitedly, ignoring his teasing. “He’s warming up the car
now. So get your coat and c’mon!” Dan’s dark brows rose in surprise. “Jim offered to take you?” He didn’t miss the way Trixie’s
cheeks brightened at the mention of Jim. He stifled a grin as he watched her
squirm in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah,” she mumbled. “Well, are
you coming or not? You said you’d help if I found a ride.” Dan assumed a thoughtful expression.
“You know, Trix, we hadn’t thought about what Mr. Maypenny
would say about us doing this. He has some odd ideas, you know, and he might
get mad.” “Why? We’re just trying to be nice.” “You know Mr. Maypenny,”
Dan said with a shrug. “He doesn’t like to accept charity. He’ll bend over
backwards to help us, but it makes him uncomfortable when anyone offers to do
something for him.” “What are you saying?” Trixie braced
herself, and then added in a quiet voice, “That we shouldn’t decorate his
cabin?” “Not at all. I just think it might
be better if you and Jim went alone to get the decorations,” Dan explained.
“If you told Mr. Maypenny that it was a surprise
for me, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no.” Trixie chewed on her lower lip as
she pondered Dan’s suggestion. After a moment she nodded her head slowly. “O-kay,” she drawled thoughtfully. “You know Mr. Maypenny better than the rest of us do, so I’m sure
you’re right. You stay here, and Jim and I will take care of everything.” Dan’s dark eyes twinkled merrily.
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be sure and tell the others where you are.” “Okey-dokey,”
Trixie agreed happily, relieved that they would still be able to take on
their project. “I’d better go. Jim’s waiting for me.” Before she could turn to leave, Dan
grabbed her arm and drew her close. “You two take your time. I’ll distract
your brothers.” After giving her a mischievous wink, Dan swaggered off to
find a lovely dancing partner. Hoping that the blush on her cheeks
would fade quickly, Trixie scurried to the cloakroom to grab her jacket and
then ran out to the Bob-White station wagon. With a flourish, she flung open
the car door and plopped down in the seat. Once she was settled, she looked
expectantly at Jim. “Aren’t we going to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s?” “Well, yeah, but I was waiting for
Dan,” Jim told her. “Isn’t he coming along?” Trixie shook her head, allowing her
silky curls to bounce around her flushed cheeks. “No, he decided it would be
best if we went alone. Is that okay?” A relieved smile passed over Jim’s
face, hidden by the darkness of the night. He cleared his throat, and then
choked out nervously, “Sure, that’s okay with me. Is it okay with you?” Trixie nervously wound a sandy curl around
her gloved index finger. “Umm, yeah, it’s okay with me, if it’s okay with
you.” Jim’s smile evolved into an easy
grin as he shifted the engine into drive. “It’s okay with me.” “Okay,” Trixie repeated nervously,
peeking up to admire Jim. She snuggled back in the car seat, secretly pleased
with the change of events. As she looked out at the falling snow, she sighed
in contentment.
After using the spare key to unlock
the front door, Trixie and Jim entered Mrs. Vanderpoel’s
cozy house. Carefully balancing on one foot, Trixie slipped off one of her
pointy-toed black shoes. “Gleeps!
Mrs. V. wasn’t kidding when she said she had plenty of Christmas
decorations,” she gushed as she looked around the living room. “I think she
has even more junk than your mom.” After removing her left shoe, Trixie
switched feet and tried to slip off her right one. She began wobbling back
and forth, precariously teetering back and forth next to a side table with
several breakable doo-dads on top. “Careful, Shamus,” Jim teased with a
smile. He placed a strong arm around Trixie’s waist to steady her. “You
wouldn’t want to break any of Mrs. V.’s ‘junk’, would you?” Trixie giggled as she kicked off the
offensive footwear. “I’m a regular bull in a china shop.” Jim smiled down at her fondly as he
gently tugged on “his” curl. “I wouldn’t say that,” he whispered. Trixie’s heart rate quickened as
Jim’s breath tickled her cheek. Desperately afraid he would hear the loud
beating echoing through the room, she nervously cleared her throat. “I guess
we’d better go up to the attic.” “Lead the way,” Jim directed with a
wink. They made their way up two flights
of stairs and walked through a narrow hallway, which led to the attic. Jim
opened the door, the rarely-used hinges creaking loudly in protest. He
stepped back and gallantly motioned for Trixie to go on inside. She stepped through the doorway,
pulling on the string to the light bulb hanging overhead, and scanned the
neat room. She recognized the large cedar trunk in which Mrs. Vanderpoel kept the dresses she, Honey, Di, and Hallie had tried on
when they were searching for a wedding dress for Juliana. Nearby, she saw the
smaller chest that had held Mrs. Vanderpoel’s own
gown that Juliana had worn. Several family heirlooms were stored neatly around
the room. Trixie was positive that if she raked one of her hands across any
of the objects in the room, not a trace of dust would come off on her
fingers. Her gaze fell
upon the window across from the door. Just as Mrs. Vanderpoel
had said, several boxes had been sat underneath. Someone with old-fashioned,
delicate penmanship had neatly scrawled “Christmas Decorations” on the top
flap of each box. “Here they are!”
Trixie cried in delight. She eagerly crossed the room, picked up one of the
boxes, and dragged it to the middle of the floor. She plopped down in front of the box to
inspect the contents inside. “Slow down,
Shamus,” Jim said in a teasing tone. “Those boxes aren’t going anywhere.” Trixie ignored
him, save for a rueful grin. With obvious glee, she dug into the first box
and pulled out a large object that was wrapped in newspaper. She carefully,
yet quickly, removed the protective covering to unveil a beautiful snow
globe. With a squeal of delight, she shook it up, allowing white flakes to flutter
down on the tiny gingerbread house inside. “Isn’t this
pretty?” she murmured as Jim came and sat beside her. A wistful look
passed over Jim’s face as he took in Trixie’s sparkling blue eyes and her bright
smile, accentuated by two large dimples on either side. “Very pretty,” he
answered honestly, not even noticing the snow globe she was holding. “Oh, this will
look perfectly perfect in Mr. Maypenny’s living
room,” she gushed excitedly. “Perfectly perfect,”
Jim agreed, still not talking about the snow globe. “I wonder what
else Mrs. V. has in here.” She searched through the box, oblivious to Jim’s
open adoration. With a giggle, she pulled out a fruitcake that was still in
its original packaging. “Hungry, Jim?” “Is that a
fruitcake?” Jim asked with a snort. “Looks like it.
Hey, I wonder when the expiration date is.” Trixie’s brow furrowed as she
inspected the package for any signs of mold. “Are you
planning on eating it?” Trixie looked up
at Jim. With an indignant sniff, she tossed her curls and then stuck her
tongue out at him. “Ha, ha. I was just curious when Mrs. Vanderpoel
put it in here.” Jim scratched
his chin thoughtfully. “Judging by the packaging, I’m guessing around 1954,”
he estimated in a scholarly tone. “Blech,” Trixie exclaimed, scrunching up her pert nose.
“This thing is probably toxic. One bite could destroy all of Sleepyside.” Jim chuckled. “I’ll bet it would
still be edible. I read that some people think fruitcakes improve with age.
They wait twenty-five years to eat them.” “No, thanks,”
Trixie said with a snort as she packed it back in the box. She burst out
laughing when she pulled out another fruitcake. “Hey, she’s got a whole stash
of these things in here. This must’ve been where she hid them.” Jim went over to
the stack of boxes and easily picked up two of the larger ones. He carried
them to the middle of the room and placed them beside Trixie. With his
pocketknife he carefully sliced the packaging tape and opened the flaps. “One
box has more decorations, and the other has a bunch of tree ornaments.” “I wonder if Dan
would mind chopping down a tree for us tomorrow?”
Trixie wondered out loud. “Dan’s not the
only one with a trusty ax,” Jim said with a wink. A lump the size
of a watermelon formed in Trixie’s throat as she snuck a peek at the way
Jim’s broad shoulders filled out his olive green suit jacket. “Th-th-thanks,” she stammered, trying not to stare at his
bulging biceps. She quickly
hopped up to grab another box, hoping Jim wouldn’t notice her crimson cheeks.
As she bent over to pick up the next box, she missed Jim’s discreet admiring
glance. He quickly averted his gaze as Trixie plunked down beside him,
eagerly ripping off the tape and then digging inside. “Oh, look,” she
murmured, pulling out several old-fashioned stockings. “These must’ve
belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Vanderpoel and their
children. How sweet that she’s kept them all these years.” Jim nodded as he
took the stockings and studied them. It was obvious that a lot of love and
care had gone into the careful stitching of the designs on the front. “We all have the
same stockings we used as babies,” Trixie told him shyly. “Even Moms and Dad
use the ones they had when they were kids.” Jim tilted his
head and gazed admiringly at her. “So, what’s in your stocking this year--- a
lump of sugar or a lump of coal?” Trixie giggled
and looked up flirtatiously at him through her thick, sandy lashes. “Why,
sugar of course. I’ve been a good girl this year.” “Oh, really?” he
taunted. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to wait until Christmas morning to find
out for sure.” “We get to open the stuff in our
stockings on Christmas Eve,” she informed him tartly. “Mom and Dad make
us wait until Christmas morning,” Jim said with a chuckle. “I think it has to
do with all those sparkly gems in Honey’s stocking each year. They want to
save those until last.” “The only
sparkly thing in my stocking is glitter from my name written on the front,”
Trixie replied with a laugh. “Moms usually puts
things like batteries in ours. They save the good stuff for Christmas
morning. Well, except for the one package we’re allowed to open early.” Jim quirked a
ginger eyebrow at her. “You get to open one of your presents on Christmas
Eve?” Trixie rolled
her eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, but it’s always pajamas. Every
single year we get to open one present early, and every single year it’s PJs from Aunt Alicia.” “Bummer,” he
commented with an amused smirk. Trixie laughed,
her china blue eyes sparkling with merriment. “What’s funny is that Bobby
still hasn’t figured that out. He keeps expecting something cool, and all he
gets is dinosaur pajamas.” “Maybe there are
some pajamas in that box that Junior Vanderpoel
discarded,” Jim suggested with a grin. “Maybe,” Trixie
agreed with a giggle. She explored deeper into the box to see what secrets
were hidden. However, instead of dinosaur jammies,
she pulled out a stack of old records. Jim looked up
with interest. “What’ve you got there?” “Looks like a
collection of old Christmas music,” Trixie murmured as she flipped through
the large stack of records. “We’ve got Burl Ives, Rosemary Clooney, Bing
Crosby, the And---” “Hey, let me see
this one,” Jim interrupted, excitedly grabbing the album that was at the
bottom of the stack. His green eyes widened in childlike glee as he studied
the record he held. “Wow! I can’t believe it’s on here!” Trixie glanced
up at him inquisitively. “You can’t believe what’s on there?” Jim tried to
play it cool, hoping that if he feigned indifference, Trixie would drop the
subject. “Oh, nothing important. Just a song that Mom, Dad, and me used to
listen to.” However, Jim
would have no such luck. “What song?” she
prodded, her curiosity aroused. “It’s not
important,” Jim replied, attempting to place the
record back in the box before Trixie could see it. “Aw, c’mon,
Jim!” With an impish smile, Trixie quickly retrieved the old album and began
poring over the listings. “Which one is it? ‘Silver Bells’? ‘Have a Holly
Jolly Christmas’? ‘White Chistmas’? ‘The Mer---’ ” Jim snatched the
record out of her hands and hid it behind his back. “It’s just a stupid song
that I listened to with my mom and dad.” Trixie leaned
closer to Jim and flirtatiously batted her eyes at him. “Tell me the name of
the song,” she begged sweetly. “No,” Jim
answered, setting his jaw in determination. “You’ll make fun of me.” “No, I won’t,”
Trixie promised. “Tell me the name of the song. Please?” Jim crossed his
arms in front of him and shook his head. “No.” Trixie giggled
as she sidled up closer to him. She clasped her hands in front of her to make
her pleas more believable. “Pwetty pwease?” “Are you going
to keep bugging me until I tell you?” Jim asked with a weary sigh of
exasperation. “Yes,” she
answered honestly, a saucy grin making her dimples appear a mile deep. She
nodded her head slightly, making her sandy tendrils bounce. Jim’s favorite
curl rested against her forehead, just begging to be tugged. With an inward
groan, he silently admitted defeat. That blasted curl proved to be his
downfall every time. “ ‘The Merry Christmas Polka’,” he reluctantly admitted. “ The Merry Christmas Polka’?” Trixie repeated with an
incredulous giggle. “Strangely enough, I’ve never heard of it.” “It’s by Jim
Reeves,” Jim explained. Trixie wrinkled
her nose and shrugged her shoulders. “Who’s he?” “He was a
country singer back in the sixties. My mom and dad liked him. They played
that album while Christmas dinner was cooking.” “Did your dad
wear his lederhosen?” Trixie inquired with an impish grin. The corners of
Jim’s mouth twitched in stifled amusement, but upon closer inspection, Trixie
could see that his green eyes were a bit misty. “It may sound like a corny
song, but it was special to us. Dad liked to grab Mom and dance with her
around the table.” Trixie placed
her sturdy hand on his arm. “That’s a beautiful memory, Jim. I’m sure it’s a
wonderful song. I’m sorry for teasing you.” Jim placed his
freckled hand on hers. “That’s okay. I know polka isn’t exactly mainstream. I think that’s one reason Dad liked it so
well.” “He sounds like
fun.” “He was,” Jim
told her. “I wish you could’ve met him.” “Me, too.” The
sweet smile on Trixie’s face slowly evolved to a mischievous one. “Why don’t
you sing it for me?” “Sing what?” Jim
questioned, his tone quite defensive. “ ‘The Merry Christmas Polka’,” Trixie answered with an
exhale of impatience. “I want to hear it.” Jim snorted in
response. “Forget it.” “Aw, c’mon,
Jim!” Trixie cajoled. “I wanna hear that song.
There’s nothing more rousing than a good polka.” “Then listen to
the record.” Jim tried to muster a frown; however, his trademarked lopsided
grin refused to budge. “No, I want to
hear you sing it,” Trixie informed
him. “I don’t sing,” Jim insisted, setting his
jaw in finality. “And besides, I’m not wearing my lederhosen.” “Well, fine,”
Trixie said with a pout. With an indignant sniff, she yanked the album away
from him, stood (in quite an ungraceful manner) to her feet, and stomped over
to the old-fashioned record player which was sitting on an ancient dresser.
After spying an unused electric socket, she plugged in the record player,
turned it on, and placed the album on the turntable. “That record
player probably doesn’t even work,” Jim told her. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t work… Much to Trixie’s glee and Jim’s chagrin,
after a bit of scratching and popping, the joyful strains of polka music
echoed through the attic. She whooped in delight as she listened to the first
verse. This
is Christmas season so there isn't any reason Trixie hooted
with laughter as she listened to the song.
During the second verse, she was feeling particularly mischievous.
With an impish grin, she accepted an imaginary dance partner’s invitation and
began polkaing around the room, much to Jim’s amusement. “Okay, okay,” he muttered with a rueful
chuckle. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. “I
think we’ve had enough of the polka.” Breathless from
her dancing, Trixie stopped in front of him. She blew an errant curl out of
her eyes, her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of
pink from her exercise. “Don’t you want to join me?” she asked with a giggle. “I don’t think I
could keep up with you.” “You’ll never
know unless you try,” Trixie challenged. “If you wanted
to dance, we should’ve stayed at the Manor House,” Jim teased. She stuck her
tongue out at him as the song ended. “You’re no fun,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s get this
stuff packed up, and maybe we’ll get back to the Manor House in time for a
dance or two, Shamus.” “I think it’s
time I hung up my dancing shoes for the evening,” she replied with an
exaggerated sigh. “What do you
mean?” Jim looked at her inquisitively. “I thought you wanted to dance?” Trixie merely shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’d rather dance in an attic than in a ballroom.” Ignoring Jim’s gaze, |
