Standard disclaimers apply: I don't own the characters, I only take them out to play with them occasionally and I don't make any money off them. A book is never really happy unless it has been read and re-read until the cover falls off and you need to buy a second copy. This is how I pay loving homage to my childhood favorites.

 

 

December 23^rd was Hallie Belden’s favorite day of the year. Not quite Christmas, but close enough for the magic to surround the snug farmhouse in the hollow. She laced up her brogans and pulled a little black T-shirt over her pleated plaid skirt before glossing her lips with a dark red lipstick.

 

It was as Christmas-y as she got.

 

She was just descending the stairs when she heard a knock at the door.

 

“Knock, knock!” Honey said, as she opened the door.  

 

“Let me put your coat upstairs,” Hallie said, briefly embracing her neighbor and soon to be in-law.

 

“Does Moms need any help?” Honey asked.

 

“I think she and Uncle Dads are carving up the ham.”

 

“Oh, I love Moms’ cooking. You’re so lucky to still live here in Sleepyside, Hallie.”

 

“You could move home, you know.”

 

Honey sighed. “Maybe after Brian is done with the Navy we’ll come home. Then we can all be neighbors again.”

 

“That would be wonderful,” Hallie said, impulsively hugging Honey again.

 

“Who all is coming to the Secret Santa?” Jim asked as he and Trixie arrived, hand in hand a few minutes later.

 

“No!” Honey yelled.

 

“We don’t call it that anymore,” Trixie said, a little calmer than her best friend. She fussed with the navy blue sweater dress she wore. “I don’t know how I let you talk me into wearing a dress, Honey Wheeler-Almost-Belden,” Trixie grumbled good-naturedly.

 

“You look beautiful, Trix,” Jim said, toying with one of her curls.

 

Hallie rolled her eyes at his love-sick expression.

 

“You do look beautiful, Trix. You totally rock that shade of blue,” Honey said with loyal admiration.

 

“So why can’t we call it a Secret Santa?” Jim asked, raising his hand to indicate the bright red gift bag.

 

“We haven’t called it that since The Secret Santa Debacle the year Bob turned seven,” Hallie said with a shudder as she rejoined the group.

 

Jim turned to look at Bob for explanation.

 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Bob said.

 

“So, what do we call it?” Jim asked, moving towards the fireplace and poking it, settling the embers before adding another log.

 

“We simply refer to it as Christmas Eve’s Eve celebration,” Honey said, rejoining the group with a platter of meat.

 

“Do we play games or anything?” Jim asked.

 

“Not since the Pictionary Incident,” Cap said with a smirk. His hands were also full as each Belden began setting up the buffet. He nodded his greeting to Jim, his tawny brown hair catching on his stubble. “You can put your gifts under the tree,” he said Jim and Honey. “We’ll open everything after we eat.”

 

“There was no ‘Pictionary Incident’,” Trixie denied, hotly. “Is it my fault you guys can’t recognize my artistic genius.”

 

Her brother Mart snorted. “If by ‘artistic genius’ you mean the scribbling of an adolescent chimpanzee, you’re right. We didn’t recognize it.”

 

Trixie sniffed, tossed her curls, and went into the kitchen to fetch more food.

 

Brian, the oldest of the Belden siblings and cousins, joined the room. “Did you tell Jim about the Secret Santa Debacle?”

 

“No!” Bob said. “But we can always bring up the Great Silly String Episode,” he said, smiling as his oldest brother squirmed.

 

“I’d really rather not,” Brian said. “Besides, it was only a small fire.”

 

Jim choked on the soda he was drinking. “Fire?”

 

Honey patted Jim’s shoulder. “It was easily put out.”

 

The back door opened and Dan poked his head in. “Did I miss anything good?” he asked.

 

“Dan! I’m so glad you made it,” Helen Belden said, rising from her seat to brush a gentle motherly kiss across the young man’s cheek. “And no, it’s been quiet so far this year.”

 

“Whew!” Dan said with a laugh, closing the door behind him. He shrugged out of his wool coat and Cap rose to take it from him. “I didn’t want another incident like last year’s Amish Fiasco.”

 

Everyone turned to look at Cap.

 

“What? Why is everyone looking at me?” he asked.

 

Jim laughed. “Does every year have an event?”

 

Helen nodded. “Pretty much. Dig in, everyone. There’s plenty of food.” She smiled as her husband handed her the customary first plate. “There was the year Trixie baked chocolate chip blondie brownie bars for the boys.”

 

“Oh, that was a horrible year,” Trixie said, refreshing Jim’s soda while he piled their plates with the delicious, aromatic fare.

 

“Why?” Jim asked.

 

“I had this harebrained idea the boys could share a single gift,” Trixie said.

 

Mart smiled. “Ahh. The Bloody Blondie Brownie Battle. Good times.” He laughed as his mother good naturedly threw a pillow at him.

 

“Hey, Trix, I noticed you upgraded the computer system at work. It looks great and is so much faster!” Cap said, filling is own plate and grabbing a soda from the cooler.

 

“We did what?” Trixie asked, looking at Bob. “When did this happen? How did we get the money for that?”

 

Bob shrugged. “I did a thing,” he said.

 

“A thing?”

 

“Let’s not talk about the thing,” Bob deflected.

 

“Oh, I think we will most certainly talk about the thing,” Trixie said.

 

“After Christmas,” Helen said, soothingly. “No fighting today.”

 

Trixie sniffed but found a spot next to Jim on the couch.

 

Mart jumped when a knock sounded on the kitchen door. “It’s Diana,” he said, in explanation.

 

“Figures,” Hallie said with a snort. “I don’t think I’ve seen him move that fast since…”

 

“The Great Jenga Tantrum?” Cap supplied.

 

Hallie shuddered. “Poor Mart. His eyebrows didn’t grow back for a month.”

 

“Another fire?” Jim whispered.

 

“Don’t ask,” Trixie said.

 

“Oh, Diana, you look beautiful,” Honey exclaimed as Mart escorted Diana into the living room.  Her snug pencil skirt and pin-up style purple sweater emphasized her delicate curves.

 

Diana smiled her greetings to everyone and hugged Mrs. Belden. Mart settled her into an overstuffed chair while he took up a protective perch on the ottoman.

 

“Thank you,” Di said shyly. “I love that shade of gold on you, Honey.” She accepted a glass of cola from Brian and relaxed into the chair by the warm fire.

 

“Honey, you’re the very pineapple of politeness,” Cap said as he found a spot on the carpet.

 

Mart sighed. “Don’t you mean pinnacle of politeness?”

 

“Don’t you two start, again,” Helen said with a stern look at Mart and Cap. Cap smiled innocently until he was Gibbs’ slapped by Mart from his spot on the ottoman.

 

“Hey! What was that for?” Cap asked, rubbing the back of his head to everyone’s amusement.

 

“How’s work been?” Diana asked, trying to diffuse the developing argument between Cap and Mart. She turned to Hallie. “You’re working at Crimper’s this year, aren’t you? Taking pictures for Santa?”

 

Hallie nodded. “Yep. I know it seems like a monkey could do my job, but it couldn’t. True story,” she said with a wink, earning another round of laughter from family and friends gathered in the cozy living room. “Tomorrow at noon, I’m officially laid off. But The Sun hired me to do a freelance project, taking pictures at the Country Club on New Year’s Eve.”

 

“That sounds great, Hallie,” Dan said with a smile. “I’m glad your photography is taking off.”

 

“And you?” Diana turned to Bob. “Have you been up to anything, recently? My brothers and sisters keep asking for updates.”

 

Bob shrugged and swallowed. “I was bored while Jim and Trix were tracking down a jump and Cap was out of the area. I hacked the White House email. No real buzz but we are up to some hinky business in Ontario. Really hinky.”

 

Diana paused for a moment, unsure if Bob was teasing or telling the truth. Finally, she turned to Cap. “Where did you go?”

 

“Ontario,” Cap said with a grin.

 

“How are the wedding plans going?” Helen asked Honey, as eager to change the subject as she was to have the young woman as her daughter-in-law.

 

Honey shrugged. “My wedding planner isn’t really doing her job. I swear, I could do it better. And I’ve been having a hard time finding the right wedding gown. I’m thinking of sewing it myself.”

 

Helen blanched and drew in a shocked breath. “Oh, no, you don’t want to do that,” Helen said. “I know you’re an excellent sewer, Honey, but your wedding isn’t where you debut your first wedding gown!”

 

“How hard could it be?” Honey asked, her hazel eyes growing wide. Her eyes lit with mischief and she winked at Cap. “I always try to look on the bright side. I’m an internal optometrist.”

 

Mart groaned as if in pain. “Capelton Belden, I think I hate you.”

 

Cap laughed, a deep hearty chuckle that rose from his belly. “Oh, Mart. I wish I could take credit for that one. Unfortunately, my affluence over Honey is very small.”

 

 Everyone held their breath, waiting for Mart’s reaction. “Oh, fine,” he finally said with a laughing groan. “It’s ‘eternal optimist’ and ‘influence.”

 

“I’ve heard it both ways,” Peter Belden said, teasing his middle son.

 

“Et tu, Dad?” Mart said, dramatically placing his hand over his heart in mock horror.

 

“Tell us about the dress story,” Brian said, gently turning until Honey was pressed against him, her head resting over his heart.

 

She sighed and relaxed into his warm embrace.

 

His father laughed. “Oh, dear. Should we tell the children…”

 

“No,” Helen interrupted.

 

“Tell us what?” Trixie demanded.

 

“Nothing,” Helen said, rising to get a second helping of dinner.

 

“Oh, c’mon, Aunt Moms,” Cap said. “You know all our incidents and accidents.”

 

“Please tell us, Moms!” Bob said, blinking his big blue eyes at his mother as though he were a child of six.

 

A small grin played on Diana’s lips. “Did you try to sew your own wedding gown?” she guessed.

 

Helen shuddered. “Oh, it was a debacle of the first water.”

 

Trixie’s mouth dropped. “But Moms, you’re a wonderful sewer.”

 

“I can sew,” Helen agreed. “But I’m not a designer or a seamstress.”

 

“What did you do?” Honey asked, her face pale and her eyes wide.

 

“I’ve seen the pictures,” Mart said with a frown. “You were wearing a dress.”

 

“Well, of course I was in a dress,” Helen said.

 

“But what happened?”

 

“Never you mind what happened,” she scolded her children. Turning to Honey, she continued in a kinder tone, “Just trust me, Honey. Don’t make your own dress.”

 

“I can help,” Diana offered. “Let me know what you’re looking for and we can design it together.”

 

“Oh, Diana, you’re such a peach,” Honey said, rising to give Diana a hug. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

 

Diana returned the hug with a laugh. “Don’t be silly. My design will be on the bride for New York’s Wedding of the Decade. I couldn’t buy that kind of publicity!”

 

Plates were emptied, second helpings were enjoyed until finally even Mart declared he was full.

 

“Is it gift time?” Trixie demanded as she and Hallie cleaned up the plates.

 

“You know we have to clean up first,” Helen said, giving her daughter a stern but loving look.

 

“I’ll start washing,” Hallie offered.

 

“I’ll dry,” Dan offered.

 

Trixie sighed. “I’ll start clearing.”

 

“I’ll help,” Jim said, grabbing some empty plates.

 

“I’ll dig out the storage containers,” Cap said.

 

“Don’t forget to pack up some left overs for us,” Mart called to his cousin and promptly found himself the recipient of several pillows thrown at him. “Fine, I’ll help, too.”

 

Brian placed a small kiss on Honey’s forehead. “I’ll go make the coffee.”

 

Bob rose to his feet. “I’ll get the cups and saucers.”

 

Honey smiled at the Beldens. “Are the desserts in the fridge in the basement?” she asked. “Diana and I can go get them. I’m sure you’ve been on your feet all day, preparing this feast.”

 

“Thank you, girls,” Helen said. “Yes, the cheesecake and ice cream are downstairs. The pies are warming on top of the stove.”

 

“We must have done something right,” Peter remarked as their guests and family began the Herculean task of cleaning after a feast for twelve people. A warm, sexy glint shone in Peter’s eyes as a dreamy Christmas song came on the radio. “Let’s dance?” he asked.

 

Helen rose in his arms, relaxing into him and letting him lead this impromptu dance. As Harry Connick Jr.’s deep raspy voice crooned out the tune, he paused for a moment.

 

Helen raised her head and looked trustingly into her husband’s dark brown eyes.

 

“From fiascos and incidents to debacles and beyond,” Peter said, his eyes filling with tears. “I will love you forever, Helen.”

 

Helen’s own eyes filled with her emotions. “I couldn’t have made it these past thirty years without you by my side, Peter. We’re in this together, forever.” She traced Peter’s beloved face and admired her husband. She was surprised to see how the grey at his temples had spread and silvered through his dark hair. “You’re getting more and more handsome,” she complained, brushing a kiss across his lips.

 

“Ah, Helen, I think you can do better than that, my beautiful sexy wife,” he said with a lascivious nod towards a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the corner of the living room.

 

She smiled, her blue eyes lighting with devilish delight. “Oh, I think we can both do better than that.”

 

Honey and Diana stopped at the stairs, their hands laden with desserts. By mutual unspoken consent, they left the kissing couple undisturbed and walked quietly into the kitchen.

 

The end.

 

 

a/n: Merry Christmas!! I wanted this to be a fun look at family Christmas. I didn’t send it out to be edited because I knew my editors were hard at work on their own Christmas stories. Any mistakes are my own. Brogans are a kind of tie up boot.