Chapter 27
It Is Almost the Year Two Thousand

(originally posted January 5, 2010)
2nd Jixaversary

December 22, 1999

 “TEN or twelve?” Trixie asked, notebook in hand, as Honey took inventory in the kitchen of her parents’ penthouse apartment.

“Ten, I think,” Honey responded, shifting Matthew from one shoulder to the other so she could check the silverware drawer.  “I invited Hallie, of course, but she said she already had plans.  Do you know what she’s doing?”

“No, but if you told her Simon was coming that would explain why ‘something suddenly came up,’” Trixie answered, accompanying her air quotes with a decidedly sarcastic tone.

Honey gave her best friend a light smack on the arm before shifting Matthew back to the other shoulder.

“Do you want me to take him?” Trixie asked.  “You know better than I do what we need and what’s missing.”

She laid the notebook on the counter and held out her arms and Honey gratefully turned her son over to his favorite aunt.

“I wish I could lay him down but he’s been so fussy lately.  I’m sure he’d just wake back up and start screaming again.”

“Ugh,” Trixie sympathized.  “I love sweet, adorable Matthew, not exorcist baby Matthew.”

“He’s probably going to cry when you and Dan babysit next week,” Honey warned.

“Well, Dan can take care of crying, barfing, and poopy diapers.  I’ll be in charge of cuddling, feeding, and taking pictures.”

Honey chuckled as she returned to her task.

“So, seven Bob-Whites, Tad, Sally, and ... Simon?” Trixie asked.

“No, Simon’s working.  I guess I just thought Jim might bring a date.”

“Is he seeing anybody?”

“Not that I know of.”

Trixie leaned back against the counter and gently patted Matthew on his back to keep him in his peaceful slumber.  She watched Honey checking cabinets and drawers and periodically scribbling reminders in the notebook.  Finally, she asked, “Are you worried about him?”

“He’s my brother.  Of course, I worry about him.  But you don’t have to have a partner to be happy.  He’s very wrapped up in the school and I don’t think he’s unhappy, per se.”

“Per se?  Now I know something’s wrong.”

“Trixie,” Honey scolded.  “He’s 24.  It’s not like he’s a washed up old maid.”

“I know.  It’s just that...”

Honey stopped what she was doing and turned to stare curiously at her friend.  “What?”

“I guess I always figured Jim would be the one most likely to settle down with a family first.”  She shrugged and added, “Maybe that’s why we didn’t stay together.”

“You’re married now.”

“Yeah, but Dan and I are both very firm on no kids for several years.  I bet that wouldn’t have gone over well with Jim.”

“Brian and I got married first and had kids first.  I’ve always wanted a family.  Why Jim and not me?”

Trixie gave her an exasperated look.  “Not the point, Hon.”

“Then what is the point?”

“You and Brian are married and have started a family.  Dan and I are married.  Mart and Sally are promised, whatever the heck that means.  Why doesn’t he just ask her to marry him, already?  And Di and Tad are living together.  Why hasn’t Jim settled down yet?”

Without stopping to think before she spoke, Honey said blithely, “Because he hasn’t found anybody he loves as much as you.”

Trixie stopped patting Matthew’s back and almost instantly he began fidgeting in her arms.  Trixie was oblivious, still processing what her best friend had just said.  Honey’s face grew pink and she dropped to her knees on the pretext of looking into the lower cabinets, half wishing she could crawl into one and close the door behind her.

“What do you mean?” Trixie demanded.

There was a clattering of pots and pans under the counter, which only made Matthew fuss louder.  Trixie instinctively shifted him and resumed her patting, pacing in the large kitchen while keeping a wary eye on the back half of her best friend as she dug around in the cabinets.

“Honey?”

“Do you think we should do a sit-down brunch or a buffet?  We’re just doing finger foods New Year’s Eve, buffet style, so maybe for brunch we should all sit down at the table.  What do you think?”

“Honey, what do you mean?”

There was no way out of this mess and Honey knew it.  With a sigh, she extracted herself from the cabinet and stood up to face her sister-in-law.

“If you don’t know how much Jim loves you, you’re blind.”

“Loved me,” Trixie said adamantly.  “He’s the one who broke up with me, remember?  And that was years and years ago.”

“Just five years,” Honey said.  She paused and added, “And you didn’t hear it from me but I’m pretty sure he regrets it.”

Trixie stopped her pacing.  Matthew started crying again.

“He regrets it?  What does that mean?”  Trixie’s voice pitched higher with every question.  “He’s going to pine after me for the rest of his life?  He’s never going to fall in love again?  Does he think I’ll divorce Dan and come running back to him because he still loves me?”

Matthew’s fussing turned into full-fledged wailing and Honey took him from Trixie’s arms and began rocking him.  “Of course not,” she answered patiently, trying not to roll her eyes.

“Of course not what?” Trixie retorted.  “Of course he’ll never fall in love again?”

“No, no.  He doesn’t think you’ll leave Dan.  He won’t pine away forever.  He will fall in love again.  He just hasn’t yet.  And he doesn’t want to fall in love with just anybody because they’ll have to match up to you.”

Trixie sank to the floor and put her head in her hands.  “I don’t need this kind of turmoil in my life right now.”

“Stop being so melodramatic,” Honey sighed.

“Well, what did you expect when you just told me my ex is carrying a torch for me four months after I married another man?”

“One year and four months.”

“Honey!”

With Matthew still crying plaintively, Honey carefully sat down on the floor next to her best friend and quieted her son the only way she could think of, by opening her blouse and bra and letting him start nursing.  After he was settled, she softly said, “Jim is not carrying a torch.  All I’m saying is that he loves you very much—yes, loves,” she said firmly, stressing the present tense before Trixie could object.  “And it’ll take somebody really special to win his heart that way.  He’s not regretting you and Dan falling in love.  He’s just regretting you and he falling out of love.”

“How can you say we fell out of love and in the same breath swear he still loves me?  I didn’t break up with him.  I didn’t fall out of love with him.  And now I’m going to have Fraynesque guilt because I married Dan.”

Calmly, Honey asked, “So you don’t really love Dan?”

“What?  Yes, I love Dan!  I love him, I love him, I love him!  I married him, didn’t I?  Twice!”

“You still love Jim, don’t you?”

“No,” Trixie avowed.  “I love Dan.”

“So you don’t love Jim?”

“No.  I mean ... yes, of course I do.  It’s just … different now.”

“Okay.  So why are you freaking out because I said Jim still loves you?”

Trixie opened her mouth then quickly shut it again, taking a moment this time to think through the convoluted exchange before responding.  She exhaled in loud frustration, setting the curls on her forehead bouncing.  Finally, she turned to her best friend and grinned.  “Do you think anybody but you and I would’ve understood this conversation?”

“We’re better than Abbott and Costello,” Honey agreed with a smile.

“No wonder Matthew was screaming,” Trixie teased.

“Yeah, but I shut him up the way you can shut up all men when they’re upset.”  She nodded pointedly toward her partially exposed breast and waggled her eyebrows at Trixie, who promptly burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry I freaked out.  I do love Jim and I just want him to be happy.  I worry about him when he’s not happy.”

“He is happy.  He’s just not in love ... yet.”

“New Year’s Resolution?” Trixie asked, holding out her right pinkie finger to seal the deal with her best friend.

Honey nodded, twisting her pinkie with Trixie’s enthusiastically.  “To the new millennium of matchmaking.”

“Which will be all up to you, because I’ll be in Washington.”

Honey made a face but Trixie’s impish expression had them both giggling like teenagers within seconds.

 

December 23, 1999

 “NINE months away, Mom,” India said gently.  “Please let’s not argue about it now.”

“You’ve missed three years of school,” her mother replied.  “You’re not going to make it all up and graduate by next spring so you can go to college next fall.”

“I can take the GED when I’m 18.  You said it was okay if I didn’t want to go back to school.  You said you’d get private tutors for me.  So, you can teach me the science and math and a tutor can prep me for the writing, reading, and history tests.  If I work hard, I can get my GED next spring and go to NYU in the fall.”

“You spent three years of hell there.  I just don’t understand why you’d want to go back.”

“NYU is a good school.”

Her mother’s face was etched with worry.  In fact, she looked very much like the Basset hound she was currently examining.  “There are good schools around here or in Albany.”

India sighed.  She wasn’t sure she could quite explain why she felt the need to go back to the city that had brought her so much unhappiness the past few years.  It seemed easier to try to rationalize it than explain it.

“Dan said nobody’s seen any trace of L.J.  He’s probably long gone.  Anyway, do you think he’d recognize me even if he did see me?”

Bronwyn Meyrick raised her eyes.  In just the month she’d been home, her daughter’s transformation had been significant.  She had put on much needed weight.  Her face had filled out and had a healthy glow to it.  She had insisted her mother take her to the beauty salon so she could get the platinum blond washed out, and her natural red-gold hair fell in soft waves around her face.  Even her eyes seemed brighter, more confident and secure, though the sadness hadn’t completely vanished.

“Dan and Brian will watch out for me, you know that,” India continued.  “And I won’t go anywhere near that part of town.  I’ll be staying in the dorms and I won’t go anywhere by myself.  I promise.”

Her mother returned the hound to his cage with a gentle pat on his rear.  She carefully latched the door and stood up slowly.  Buying time, India thought, before she’d have to answer.

“Mom, I want to be a social worker.  I want to be where I can help others.  I don’t want other girls to end up like me.”

Her voice was soft and shy.  Neither of them liked to talk about what had happened the last few years.

Her mother lost the haunted look on her face, replacing it with a determination matched in her firm tone.  “You haven’t ‘ended up’ anywhere, India.  You’re only 17.  You have a lifetime ahead of you.  You got out of a bad situation.  You’re going to get your GED next spring … and you’re going to college.”

India hesitated, studying her mother’s face carefully before speaking.  “At NYU?”

Her mother pursed her lips, struggling to contain another protest, or maybe just a sigh of resignation.  Finally, she nodded.  “If that’s where you want to go.”

India threw her arms around her mother’s neck and kissed her cheek.  “Thank you, Mom.”

As she pulled away, her mother reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a small, white box with a gold bow on top.  “Here,” she said, without preamble or explanation.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” India said in puzzlement as she took the box from her mother’s hand.

“It’s not really a Christmas present,” Bronwyn hedged.  “It belongs to you.  I’m just giving it back.”

India opened the box and pulled out a delicate gold bracelet.  Her name was engraved in a flowing script on the front.  She swallowed hard.

“That’s the first time it’s left my possession since…”  Her mother trailed off.

India choked back a sob.  “I’m sorry I sold it, Mom.”

“You did what you had to do.”  She placed her hand over India’s shaking one and squeezed.  “I’m just glad it ended up back in my hands.  It gave me the strength to go on.  I thought it was all I had left of you.  And I’m so glad I can give it back to you now.”

India nodded, too overcome for words.

Her mother gently put her fingers on the bracelet and turned it over so they could see the reverse side.  “If you’re going to go off to New York again without me, I want you to remember how important this is, how much these words mean to me.”

The back of the bracelet, in a small, plain font, read: You will always be in my heart.  Love, Mama.

“Please don’t forget it this time.  I will always be here for you.”

India embraced her again and let the tears flow.  “I’ll always be here for you, too, Mom.  I promise.”

 

December 24, 1999

 “EIGHT places at the table, please, Bobby,” Helen Belden requested as her youngest child obediently opened the china cabinet in the dining room to pull out his mother’s good dinnerware.

He paused, furrowed his brow and made a mental count.  Unconvinced he was doing the arithmetic properly—and silently cursing his sister’s math ineptitude, which she’d obviously passed along to him—he paused before pulling out the china to count on his fingers.

“Moms?” he asked, poking his head back into the kitchen.  “Eight?”

“Yes, Bobby.”  Her back was to him as she continued preparing the evening’s meal.

“But I only count seven,” Bobby insisted, tapping each finger as he called out their names.  “You, me, and Dad is three.  Mart and Sally make five.  Brian and Honey make seven.  Matthew’s not sitting at the table.  He’s not sitting, period.  Dan and Trixie are still in New York because Dan’s working tonight.  Even if they came, that’d make nine, not eight.”

The only sound was the steady chopping of vegetables as his mother remained silent.

“Moms?  Who’s number eight?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Bobby grinned broadly.  Like every other blue-eyed blond in the family, the fifteen-year-old loved surprises.  Even more than that, however, he liked trying to guess surprises before they actually arrived.

“Is it Regan?”

“No.  Regan went up to Indian Lake to spend Christmas with the boys at Jim’s school.”

“Mr. Maypenny?

“No.  Edwin is having Christmas Eve dinner with Mrs. Vanderpoel and Brom.”

Bobby had the Johnson curiosity gene and the Belden gift for logical thinking.  But he also had his sister’s impatience.  “Moms!  Who’s coming to dinner?”

“Sidney Poitier,” she quipped.

“Who?”

“Never mind,” she replied with as sigh.  She glanced out the kitchen window then turned to smile at her son.  “Why don’t you go help our surprise guest with her bags?”

Bobby bounded over to the back door, his eyes lighting up as he recognized the car pulling up the driveway.  He grabbed his coat and was out the door as he put it on.  “Trixie!” he shouted.

He jogged beside the car, impatiently waiting for her to park it, then yanked open the door and practically pulled her out of the car and into a bear hug.

“You act like you haven’t seen me in months,” Trixie giggled, her voice muffled against his coat.

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Dan insisted.  He said there was no reason for me to spend Christmas Eve alone in our apartment just because he was working.”  Bobby opened the back door and grabbed her overnight bag.  “Let me get that.  You can get the box of presents.”

Bobby pawed through the gifts on top.  “Matthew.  Matthew.  Matthew.  Matthew.  Gleeps!  Did I get any presents this year?”

“You’re not the baby in the family anymore, Uncle Bobby,” Trixie teased, taking the opportunity while he was hunched over the box to ruffle his blond curls.  “And yes, of course, I bought you presents.”

“Matthew can’t open his presents.  He can’t hold his presents.  He won’t even remember this Christmas,” Bobby groused good-naturedly.  “I think I deserve a few more years of being the spoiled baby before my nephew takes over.”

“In a few more years, Brian and Honey might be ready for their second.”

Bobby groaned and rolled his eyes.  He started toward the house with Trixie close behind him, still taunting him.

“In a few more years, Mart and Sally might be married and starting their family.”

“In a few more years, you and Dan might be having kids.”

Trixie made a face and said, “Make that a few more, few more years.”

They came up the porch steps and Trixie laid a hand on Reddy’s graying head and scratched him between the ears.  “All the Beldens home for Christmas again,” she murmured.

“Yeah, Moms is pretty happy to have all her chicks back in the nest.”

“Pretty soon you’ll be gone, too.”

“Nope.  I’m living here forever.  I like being the spoiled only child.”

Trixie laughed as she followed him into the house she would always call home.

 

December 25, 1999

 “SEVEN more days until I’m off to Washington.”

Dan heard the quiet sigh from behind him and felt a soft hand slide across his shoulder and around his chest.

“I thought I sent you to Sleepyside,” he mumbled drowsily.

“You did,” his wife replied.  “Christmas Eve dinner was wonderful.  The family was wonderful.  The baby was wonderful.  Christmas morning with all the Beldens was wonderful.”  Her lips found the back of his neck.  “But I missed you.”

“I’m glad you came back.”

“You are?  We already did our Christmas.  We got the ugly fake tree, thanks to our stupid lease.  We opened our presents and our cards.  We took our picture under the tree.  What's left?”

“I’m always happy to see you, Trix.  But I’m especially glad because I have another present for you.  I didn’t get it until after you’d already left for home yesterday.”

Trixie snorted.  “And you’re always giving me grief for shopping at the last minute.”

“I didn’t shop at the last minute.  I ordered it a few weeks ago.  It just arrived last night.”

“Well, I came back because I’ve got another present for you, too.”

Her hand slid southward, leaving little doubt what that gift would be.

Dan let out a low chuckle but made no move to thwart her intentions.  She’d stop soon enough.  “If you distract me, you might not get another gift.”

Abruptly, her hand pulled away and came back to rest on his hip.  “Gimme!”

This time, he laughed out loud.  “You’re so greedy!”

“Only because you always give the best gifts,” she rationalized.

He gave in quickly because the truth was he loved buying her gifts.  Or more accurately, he loved watching her reaction to the gifts he gave her.  Reaching down, he pulled a large white box out from under the bed and sat up, grinning as she bounced on the bed like a little girl and held out her hands for the box.

“I haven’t wrapped it yet,” he hedged, holding onto the box as she tried to pull it away.

“Like I care,” she sniffed.  “It’s in a box, isn’t it?  That’s good enough for me.”

He released the box and watched her blue eyes sparkle as she pulled the lid off.  She hastily shoved aside the tissue paper and breathlessly gasped, “Dan!”

He pulled the box away as she pulled the black leather coat out.  “Expressly made for Special Agent Beatrix Mangan,” he said.

Trixie had her suits and outerwear custom made, as did all agents, to accommodate her weapons and communications gear.  As it was important that she blend in on campus at Georgetown University as part of Zoey Bartlet’s protective detail, she would be dressing more casually than the black-suited agents in their dark sunglasses that the public was most familiar with.

She stood up, right on the bed, and put it on.  Despite the bulk of weaponry and communication gear that would be underneath it, it lay sleekly on her petite figure, coming just past her hips and flaring out slightly.

“I love it!” she shouted, dropping to her knees and giving her husband a quick peck on the lips.

“That’s it?  I thought I was the world’s greatest gift giver?”

“You are,” Trixie affirmed.  “I love it.”

“I was expecting a little more gratitude,” Dan answered, affecting a disgruntled expression.

Trixie didn’t answer, though her eyes gleamed impishly.  She simply got off the bed, still fondling the soft leather, and disappeared into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

“Uh ... Trix?”

There was a rustling noise outside the door and Dan grinned tentatively.  He loved to surprise his wife with gifts.  She loved to surprise him in a multitude of strange ways.  He was pretty sure nothing could surprise him more than the tattoo, but still...

He cocked his head curiously, looking not unlike his beagle, as he heard what he thought were ... sleigh bells?

After a few minutes, the bedroom door cracked open and Trixie stuck her head in, her face almost as red as the Santa hat that sat jauntily on her curly head, the bell sewn to the top still jingling merrily.  “Honey and Sally talked me into this, so don’t laugh, okay?”

He nodded his head in promise as he moved to sit on the corner of the bed, feeling just a tad bit excited at the possibilities behind that door.

The door opened and he got a good look at his wife’s Christmas present to him.

He was definitely more than “a tad bit” excited and he actually felt the urge to put his hand under his jaw to keep it from dropping to the floor.  Trixie was wearing lingerie that would almost make a string bikini look modest by comparison.  And the fact that she was wearing her new coat on top of it only made it that much sexier.  The top was a bright holiday red but very sheer.  Two sparkly silver snowflakes were strategically placed to affect a modicum of modesty.  The bottom piece flared out like a skirt but didn’t look much bigger than a kitchen towel.  A shock of white fur fringed the bottom of it.

“Merry Christmas … baby,” Trixie said, stumbling awkwardly over the last word.

Dan couldn’t manage to withhold a small chuckle.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!  I told Honey I couldn’t pull this off!”

“No … no … no!  I love it and you most definitely can pull it off.  I know I’m looking forward to pulling it off!  I’m just laughing over—”

Trixie groaned.  “Baby, right?”

Dan nodded, grinning at the frustrated expression on her face.  Trixie had been tirelessly trying out pet names for her husband with little success.  Nothing sounded natural coming from her lips.  She had gone through Love, Cutie, Darling, Cowboy, Tiger, Ace, Hot Stuff, and others without finding a winner.  Even Stud Muffin had failed to stick, much to Dan’s dismay.  And now Baby was taking a nosedive.

“Babe, you don’t need to call me any nicknames.”

She didn’t look convinced, so Dan reached out and slid his arm inside the coat and around her bare waist.  He pulled her closer until she was standing between his legs.

“I know you love me, sweetie.  Pet names aren’t necessary.”

She sighed, her eyes not meeting his as she carelessly traced the tattoo on his arm.

“Come on, Freckles, cheer up.  It’s Christmas!”

Trixie groaned again.  “You just called me three nicknames in three sentences and I can’t even come up with one for you!”

Dan laughed, falling backward onto the bed and pulling his wife down on top of him.  “You’re insane, you know that?”

Grinning in spite of herself, she replied saucily, “I’m really not.  I passed all those psychological profile tests with flying colors.”

She quickly forgot her disappointment as two pairs of hands quickly went to work and the new leather jacket was dumped unceremoniously to the floor.

 

December 26, 1999

 “SIX months is a long time,” Diana said, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

“Diana, it’s National Geographic!” Tad practically shouted.  “You can’t pass up this opportunity!”

“It’s in New York.”

“So?”

“So, we live in Chicago,” she reminded him.  “And this is a non-paying position.”

“Listen.  I know you want to pull yourself up by your cute little patent leather go-go bootstraps, but this is the perfect opportunity to exploit your father’s riches.”

Diana giggled and elbowed him in the ribs.  She had been accepted to a six-month internship in the photography department of National Geographic.  But their home office was in New York.  Tad had moved to Chicago to be with her.  He had purposely started his job search here so that he could be with her.  She couldn’t ask him to pack up and go back to New York a year and a half after he had moved here.

“There’s no guarantee I’ll get a position there at the end of the internship,” she pointed out.  “It’s extremely competitive.”

“You’ll go to New York.  You’ll live with your family.  You’ll do the internship.  Even if you don’t get a job there, the experience will probably allow you to get a job anywhere you want—New York, Chicago, wherever.  We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.  Dan and Trixie are going to do the long-distance thing.  And she might be in Washington for three or four years.  If they can do that, we can hack six months.”

Her childhood insecurities seemed to be fighting with her on this.  “I got a job offer here,” she said weakly.  “With paychecks and everything.”

“At some rinky-dink local paper,” Tad scoffed.  “You think anybody really reads the Daily Herald when they’ve got the Sun-Times and the Tribune to choose from?  National Geographic!  It’s … it’s national!”

“International, actually,” Diana replied absently as she flipped through the materials they had sent her on the internship.  “Six and a half million readers worldwide, five million in the U.S.”

“And you want to turn that down in favor of the Daily Herald’s dozens of readers?”

“The Herald is a pretty good paper considering it’s in competition with the big two.  It’s got almost 150,000 subscribers.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Tad responded in disbelief.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” she countered, her violet eyes welling with tears of frustration.  She hated being indecisive but love and security were as important to her as having a successful career.

As if reading her mind, Tad pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the temple.  “Kitten, I will never, ever try to get rid of you.  I just want you to be happy.  You struggled for so long to know what you wanted to do, and it made you feel bad that all your friends were so motivated.  You’re a talented photographer and I know you love it.  You should take the internship.”

“I should make a list,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him.  “Trixie always does pros and cons when she’s trying to make a decision.”

As she tried to pull free of Tad’s embrace, he squeezed her tighter and said, “Trixie is Trixie.  Diana is Diana.  You don’t make lists.  You’re creative and artsy and you think with your heart, your very big, generous, tender heart.  What is it telling you?”

Very quietly, so that he had to lean closer to hear her, she whispered, “That I love you.”

“Besides that,” he prodded gently.

After a long moment of silence, she said, “That this is not only a great opportunity but that I would totally and completely love it.  And I’d be close to my family and close to Honey and Brian and that gorgeous baby of theirs.  And that Dan and I can commiserate over being far away from the one we love most.”

“Yeah, well, don’t commiserate too much,” Tad grunted and tilted his head down to kiss Diana through her laughter.

 

December 27, 1999

 “FIVE minutes, that’s all I ask,” Simon said as soon as Hallie opened her front door.  He held his hand up in a peaceful gesture.

He couldn’t read her expression but that was probably a good thing.  At least she didn’t seem angry or unhappy to see him.

She gave a short nod and stepped back, opening the door wider and gesturing him inside.

Her living room looked exactly the same as the last time he had seen it, back in September.

He frowned.  Exactly the same.  There was no Christmas tree, no lights hung up in the window, no wreath on the door or pine boughs artfully arranged on the mantle.  The only sign that the holiday had passed by was a small basket on the table near the door that had Christmas cards in it.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” he asked, trying to keep the rampant curiosity out of his voice.

Her striking black eyes studied him, waiting for the punchline, trying to seek out his motive.  Finally, she spoke.  “Yes, thank you.  And you?”

He nodded and smiled.  “First Christmas I’ve had off in about three years.  It was nice to be home with the family.  It always makes me feel like a kid again.  Did you go home?  Idaho, right?”

She stared at him a moment before answering.  “Yes.  I just got back last night.”

Okay, the small talk isn’t thawing anything.  Better get on with it, he thought.  “I brought you a Christmas present.”  He held up the small gift bag in his hand.  “I was going to ask Sally to bring it to you when school started up again but she told me you were back in Indian Lake already.  So,” he paused and offered a glimpse of his devilish smile.  “I thought I’d take the chance that the holiday spirit would keep you from scratching my eyes out and bring it to you personally.”

“You bought me a gift?”

Her voice wasn’t irritable or defensive.  She sounded genuinely puzzled.  Simon felt a small measure of triumph that he had managed to catch her off guard.

“Yes.  It wasn’t expensive but it was extremely difficult to find.”

He held out the bag to her and she took it into her hands with about as much enthusiasm as if he had offered her a stocking full of slugs.

She stared at the rosy-cheeked Santa on the side of the bag, the shimmering red and silver tissue paper poking out the top, the green and gold ribbon tied in a bow around the handles.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he prodded.

She gestured him into the sitting area and he took a seat in the chair-and-a-half near the window.  He hadn’t been in it long last fall but it had made an impression.  He had gone home to New York and purchased one for himself.  It was the first time he truly felt he had a comfortable fit in a chair.

Hallie sat on the couch and tentatively pulled the ribbon loose from the bag.  Shooting him a wary glance, she pulled out the tissue paper and peeked inside before pulling out a plain, white box.

She turned it around as if looking for clues to what was inside.  Simon wondered if that was her normal method for unwrapping gifts or if she was convinced he was about to spring something awful on her.

Finally, she pulled the top off and looked inside.  Taking the tissue-wrapped object out, she set the box aside and began tearing off the protective covering.

The anxious thumping of his heart in his chest startled him.  It’s just a gift, he chided himself.

The teacup in Hallie’s hand was white with broad bands of cotton candy pink that made it look somewhat like a circus tent.  Gold filigree edged the rim and trailed off in ragged vines and leaves down the sides of the cup.

It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

She didn’t say anything, but he saw her blink rapidly and swallow hard as she stared at the cup in her hands.

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out the shard of china he had taken from the house in September.  He laid it on the coffee table between them.  “Do you know how hard it is to find a teacup when all you have is a two-inch wedge to match it by?”

He thought he heard her sniffle but decided to keep his eyes averted so as not to embarrass her.

“Do you have any idea how awful it is for a man to spend two months in every antique store between New York and Rochester asking to see dainty little tea sets?  I feel rather emasculated by the whole experience.”

She turned to look at him and for a brief moment he thought he saw a flash of mischief in her dark eyes.

He smiled amiably at her.  She almost returned the gesture before dropping her eyes to the cup again.

“Is it at least a close match?”

He knew it was, of course.  She wouldn’t be so emotional if he hadn’t gotten a fairly reasonable replica.

She nodded.  “Yes, it is.  Thank you.”

“Well, you were pretty upset, so I figured it had some sentimental value.  I know this isn’t the same cup but I did my best.  I didn’t want you to think I was a complete s.o.b.”

The tears shimmering in her eyes almost hid the teasing glint—but not quite.  “Not completely,” she stressed.

They stared at one another for a hushed moment.  Finally, Simon slapped his palms against his legs to conclude the conversation and stood.  Hallie quickly rose to her feet as well and he could almost swear he saw a flash of yearning in her dark eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to stay?”  She cleared her throat nervously.  “Long enough for a cup of tea, anyway?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

His piercing blue eyes met her soulful dark ones for a few heartbeats before she turned and escaped to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

December 28, 1999

 “FOUR months since you’ve had a date, Frayne,” Jo chastised.

They were having lunch at Wally’s and Jim shot a guilty look around the diner, making certain Renee was not working before he answered his straight-shooting friend.

“So?”

It was concise.  It was suitably snide.  It was totally lame.

“Oh, the wit of the Frayne,” Jo commented dryly, stuffing a couple of French fries in her mouth.  “I take it that means you have no excuses.  Well, at least no good ones, anyway.  I’m sure you’ll give me some pretty sorry ones.”

“Four months of school,” Jim said pointedly.  “Not to mention all the hard work it takes to be the greatest uncle and godfather in the world.”

“That was only two months ago,” Jo responded, clearly unimpressed with his jam-packed professional and personal schedule.  “I’m plenty busy and I still manage to find time for dates—lots of them!”

Jim rolled his eyes and put down his burger.  “The thing is, Joey, you want to go out on dates.  You’re sowing your wild oats and looking for a good time.  You’re not looking for a commitment.  I want more than a couple of dates.  I’m looking for—”  He shrugged, picked up his burger again and contemplated it for a moment before taking a bite.

Jo’s stern expression softened.  “I know you are.”  In a gently chiding tone, she added, “But she’s not going to drop out of the sky onto your doorstep.  You’ve got to actually go out in order to find her.”

“I’m going to a New Year’s Eve party.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Are there going to be women there?”

Jim nodded, trying to keep the teasing glint out of his eyes.

“Available women?”

“Not exactly.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit.  “This is a Bob-White party, isn’t it?”

Jim hesitated and then answered, “Yes.”

“You know that doesn’t count.  All the women there will either be taken or related to you.”

“The only woman who’s related to me is taken,” Jim pointed out.

“What’re you saying?  If she wasn’t married you’d go for it?”

Jim rolled his eyes in response.  “It’s New Year’s Eve with my best friends.  I’m going.  I don’t want to be the only single guy there and I don’t want to call up some random woman just so I have a date.  So, would you like to be my date?”

She almost choked on her shake and Jim grinned smugly at her.

Trying to regain the upper hand, she asked, “And you think I haven’t already made plans?  You ask a girl out for New Year’s Eve three days before and think she’ll just jump at the chance to go to a party where all the hot guys are already taken?  Well,” she concluded with a dismissive wave of her hand, “except for you, of course.”

“Jo, you’re one of my best friends.  You know my friends.  We’ll have a great time.”

She nonchalantly contemplated the invitation for a moment, but he saw her eyes glinting eagerly.

“Wheeler penthouse?”

Jim chuckled and nodded.

“Casual?  Or do I have an excuse to buy a fabulous new dress?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s casual but if you want to buy a fabulous new dress I’ll take you out for an early dinner before the party.”

He would almost swear he saw her ears perk up in interest like a terrier that had just spotted a squirrel across the lawn.

“Can we take a limo from the airport?”

“Why not?” he answered with a shrug.

“I’m there!”

Jim chuckled.  “You and I are very unlikely friends, you know.”

“Is that your nice way of telling me I’m shallow?”

Jim took a bite of his burger to preclude an answer but his green eyes twinkled wickedly.

“Fine!  I may be shallow but you’re a penny-pinching fun squelcher.”

“Just for that, you can buy your own lunch.”  He paused, then added, “Fun squelcher?”

“It’s a word,” she assured him, jabbing a finger peevishly at the remaining half of her tuna melt.  “Lucky for me, you already said you’d buy me dinner New Year’s Eve and I know you’re too honorable to back out of that commitment.”

Jim sighed loudly and shut his eyes in mock dismay.  “I suppose that’s true.  So go buy your expensive new dress.  We’ll take my father’s private jet to New York and I’ll hire a limousine to drive us to a four-star restaurant for dinner.  But you’ve got to promise me you won’t spend the evening trying to hook me up with my sister.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and sassed back, “Of course not.  I’m sure we can find some empty-headed society girl at the restaurant who’s willing to drink away her trust fund and get hammered enough to be willing to go out with a penny-pinching fun squelcher like—”

She stopped short as Jim blew soda through his straw at her.  The look on her face was priceless and it took all of Jim’s willpower not to burst into laughter.  Instead, he stated coolly, “Fun squelcher, indeed.”

Wiping her face slowly with a napkin, Jo said snidely, “There’s a big difference between fun-loving and immature … jackass.”

Jim pointed his straw at her.  “Listen, Material Girl, just because I believe in fiscal responsibility and being serious about my career doesn’t mean I’m not capable of having a good time.  New Year’s Eve you’ll see Jim Frayne letting loose and having fun.”

“What?” Jo asked, her dark eyes deliberately wide.  “So we’re not going to New York?  We’re going to stay in your office and balance the books instead?”

“Bite me, Darnell.”  And he stole what was left of her sandwich.

 

December 29, 1999

 “THREE years?”  Sally’s voice was a mixture of surprise and wistfulness.

“Is that too long to wait?”  Mart asked anxiously.

“I guess not.”

They were walking gloved hand in gloved hand down one of the riding trails that had been cleared near the school.  It was cold out but the sky was clear.  The moon was waning toward new but countless stars scattered across the inky blackness provided light for the couple.  A fresh snowfall that afternoon completed the winter wonderland picture.  It was a beautiful night for a romantic walk.

“I just want to get my master’s and be firmly settled as a teacher here at Winthrop before we get married and start a family.  Am I crazy?”

“Yes,” Sally answered immediately.  She squeezed his hand and added, “But not for that.”

Mart groaned.  “Guess I left myself open for that one.”

“And this one,” she replied nonchalantly as she stuffed the snowball she’d been holding down the back of his coat.

Mart yelped and began jumping up and down, trying to shake the cold snow loose.  Sally ran behind the nearest tree, laughing merrily.

“You’ll pay for that, Miss Drake!” Mart threatened.  “I grew up on snowball fights and my aim is deadly!”

“Hah!” she retorted from the sanctuary of the massive pine.  “I have four older brothers.  Don’t tell me about the fine art of snowball fights.”

A spirited battle ensued and continued for several minutes until Mart came out from behind a tree and got a snowball right in the face.  He sputtered and wiped the snow out of his eyes, moaning a little as he bent over at the waist.

Sally came running over.  “I’m sorry!  Did I get you in the eye?”  She put one arm on his back and leaned down to check on him.

And in that moment, he grabbed her and pushed her into a nearby snowdrift.

“Never underestimate my battle skills again, Miss Drake,” he stated haughtily.  “I am the master!”  He put his hands on his hips, thrust his chin out and assumed a warrior’s pose.

“I concede, oh great one,” Sally replied dryly.  She took the hand Mart offered but instead of getting to her feet, she pulled him down into the snow with her.

“Isn’t this how we met?” he asked with a chuckle.

“You know, this would be a lot funnier if it wasn’t 120 degrees below zero out here.”  She pulled him close and kissed him soundly.  “I think we should stick close together.  Body heat, you understand.”

“We’re not going to have any body heat if we keep lying here in the cold.”  They got to their feet and brushed off the snow.  “Let’s walk for a little while longer.  That’ll warm us up.”

“We can walk back to the house and get dry clothes and hot cocoa,” Sally suggested with a shiver.

“Not yet.”  He didn’t want to spoil the surprise and he figured his best chance of that was keeping his mouth shut.  He engaged Sally in a warming kiss that kept them both quiet for several seconds, then took her hand and led her up the trail that overlooked the school grounds.

As they walked arm-in-arm, Mart quietly hummed “Winter Wonderland”, inserting lyrics occasionally, his breath puffing out before him.

“In the meadow we can build a snowman…” He finished that verse in a quiet hum, squeezing Sally’s hand and wondering if she had any inkling what he was about to do.  After all, his poker face wasn’t much better than his sister’s and he had pulled all four of the Brothers Grimm into the secret.  Any one of them could’ve spilled the beans … or bought her a one-way ticket to Timbuktu.

“Here’s that little ridge where we can see our house,” he remarked.  They pushed through some trees and looked down on the white farmhouse.  The lights in the family room were on but all else was dark.

“We should’ve turned the Christmas lights on before we left,” Sally mused.

“Mmm...” was Mart’s only response.  He reached into his pocket for his cell phone.  He had been practicing this blind cue for days now.  Praying he had hit the correct buttons, he took Sally by the shoulders and turned her to face him.  “You’re okay with three years?  Honestly?”

“I’m okay with it,” she replied firmly.  “I guess I’m a little disappointed but that’s just because I’m the youngest in my family and three of my brothers are married and two of them have children, and your brother just had a baby, and...”  She smiled sheepishly.  “...I’ve just got a little baby fever, that’s all.”

Mart pulled her closer into his embrace.  “Just because we aren’t getting married for three years, doesn’t mean we can’t practice starting a family.”

Sally blushed and teasingly pushed him back.  “I think you just want the house all to yourself for a while longer.”

“Well, Jim and I had a talk and I convinced him that it would be all right if we moved in together.  I mean, seeing as how we’re definitely going to get married.  Eventually.”

“Eventually,” she echoed.  “But we’re not married now.  We’re not even engaged.”

“About that, Sal...”  He looked pointedly over her shoulder down the slope toward their house.

Sally turned and gasped.  Carefully laid out in the newly packed snow, in red, yellow, green, blue, and orange Christmas lights that Mart and the Brothers Grimm had painstakingly laid out in a cumbersome, awkward script, was written:

Sally spun around, expecting to look directly into Mart’s blue eyes, only to find him down on one knee with a black velvet box in one hand.

He opened it slowly and presented her with the elegant, princess cut diamond ring.

He didn’t say a word, for his question had already been posed, but it was so unusual for him to be so silent that Sally was momentarily mute herself.

Finally, Mart said, “If you need to think about being engaged to me for three years before we get married, that’s okay.  You can even say no if you want.  But if I don’t have some kind of answer soon, I’m afraid I’m gonna lose a knee to frostbite.”

Sally flung herself into his arms, tumbling them both back into the snow.  Her fervent response of “Yes, yes, yes!” was nearly lost between kisses.

When she finally broke away, eyes bright and face flushed with joy, Mart had only one thing to say.

“Isn’t this how we met?”

 

December 30, 1999

 “TWO years,” Brian said as he snuck up behind his wife and kissed her on the cheek.  “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Do I get two roses?” she asked.  He had given her a solitary white rose on their first anniversary.

“No,” he answered, gently grasping her shoulders and turning her around.  “You get two dozen roses.”

Honey made a sound that was half surprised gasp and half happy sigh as she took in the vases of red and white roses on their kitchen table.  Flashing an enchantingly teasing smile at her husband, she said, “Actually, our anniversary isn’t until tomorrow, you know.  So really, we’ve only been married one year, eleven months, 30 days, 18 hours, and…” she glanced at the clock on the stove. “...approximately 20 minutes.”

“Yes, but it’s very difficult to find a Hallmark card that says that,” Brian teased back.  “And since we’ll be celebrating the exact minute of our marriage with the rest of the Bob-Whites tomorrow night, I figured you wouldn’t mind a private celebration a little early.”

“I’ve got a chicken casserole and some twice-baked potatoes to put in the oven for a late dinner, but we’ve got plenty of time to get that private celebration started before then.”  She leaned her body into his, her hazel eyes brightening as she felt his reaction.  “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

He nodded, his expression solemn as he tried to maintain self-control.

“Brian, doctors recommend six weeks.  It’s been eight.  And we were cut off a long time before Matthew was born.”

“There’s no magic to six weeks,” Doctor Brian insisted.  “You had a difficult delivery and you shouldn’t have sex until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” she answered quickly, almost before he had finished speaking.  She tilted her face up, her expression taut with love and yearning.  She slipped one hand around his waist, the other sliding down the front of his pants, her nails lightly scraping against the zipper, and any hope he had of self-control was gone.

“Where’s the baby?” he asked, mortified to hear his voice squeaking faintly.

“I fed him and got him to sleep and dropped him off at Trixie and Dan’s about an hour ago.  They’ll have him until tomorrow morning ... unless Trixie cracks from the pressure.”

“Matthew’s still colicky?”

Honey nodded, a momentary cloud of worry flashing across her face.  “It’ll go away,” she murmured, not sounding very confident.

“Of course it will,” Brian reassured her.  “Probably in the next month or so.  In the meantime, it’ll be good practice for Trixie.”  He grinned wickedly down at his wife and she couldn’t resist doing the same.

“I did turn off my cell phone, just in case she tries to back out of her babysitting duties.”

Brian’s smile widened.  “You’re very devious, wife.”

“Your sister taught me well.”

“And at long last, after all the worry you two put us through with your devious ways, it’s finally paid off,” Brian chuckled.

“Well, I wanted to make sure our anniversary celebration was uninterrupted.”  She slid her hand behind his neck and drew his mouth down to hers.

“That way...” A gentle kiss.

“...my worrisome husband can be as slow...”  A longer, slower kiss.

“...and methodical as he wishes.”  She began methodically unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy that,” he said, pulling her closer and caressing her bottom.  “I would, however, prefer considerate and thoughtful to worrisome.”

“How about deliciously erotic and sexually gifted?”

His dark eyes brightened lustfully.  “Even better.”

He gave her a long, satisfying kiss that left them both wanting more.  Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her off to the bedroom to celebrate their anniversary in a most deliciously erotic way.

 

December 31, 1999

“ONE minute to midnight ... for real this time!” Trixie shouted, laughing with the rest of the Bob-Whites Plus gathered in the Wheeler penthouse.

Dan slid his arms around her waist and leaned down for his New Year’s kiss.  Trixie pulled back and gave him an impish smile.

“Sure you don’t want me to see if Di is available?”

Dan chuckled under his breath.  “There’s nobody else I want to kiss on New Year’s Eve.  Ever.”

“Well,” Trixie hedged, her dimples puckishly alluring.  “If you’ve made up your mind.”

“I have.” 

They welcomed in the New Year with a tender kiss.

***

“Trying to make up your mind?” Diana asked, slipping an arm around Jim’s waist.

“Make up my mind about what?”

“There are two beautiful women available for kissing at midnight.”

“Unfortunately, you’re not one of them,” he replied with a teasing wink.  “Is there some rule that says I have to kiss someone at midnight?”

“No, but something tells me you’d like to kiss one of them.”

She noticed some color starting to rise in his cheeks.  Was he looking at one of his closest friends in a different light?  Or was he remembering an unexpected kiss on Main Street?

***

Sally’s death grip on his arm was unexpected.  He was guessing a New Year’s kiss was out of the question.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Refilling my plate,” Simon joked, grabbing another hot wing.

She wasn’t amused.  “She’s his best friend!”

“I thought Mart was his best friend?”

“No, Brian’s his best friend.”

“But you just said—”

“Brian’s his best Bob-White friend.  She’s his best non-Bob-White friend.”

He shrugged carelessly and grabbed a handful of chips.  “So what?  She’s a grown-up, isn’t she?  Isn’t she allowed to make her own decisions?”

“He’s going to be mad.  Trust me.”

***

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Trust me.  I’ve done it before.  It’s freakin’ hysterical.”

“Man, if I ever did this to Steve, he’d kick my ass.”

“Yeah,” Mart admitted with a wince.  “That’s the trick.  You’ve got to catch them on a good day.  Tonight’ll be perfect.  We’ll call it the last joke of the year and say we’re planning on giving up practical jokes for 2000.”

Tad snorted.  “And you think anybody’s gonna believe that?”

“Sure.  Why not?”

“I think he’s not going to give up practical jokes for 2000.  He’s going to get revenge on you, brother.”

***

“Are you sure it’s okay with you?” Jo asked.  “I don’t want you seeking revenge or something.”

Hallie shrugged, trying to withhold an accompanying sneer.  “It’s a free country, Joanne.  Why would I care?”

“I don’t know.  But you seem like you’re pissed.”

“Well, I’m not.  I really could care less.”

“Hallie, you and I are friends and if this is going to affect that friendship, then never mind.  It’s just—”

“Yeah.  I get it,” Hallie replied dryly.  “Seriously, whatever.  Enjoy yourself.”

Jo’s eyes were gleaming as she gazed across the room and murmured, “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

***

“I’m sure I will,” Brian promised.  “Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Honey said, purposely making her sigh as dramatic as possible to cloak her disappointment.  It came with the territory, she knew.  But all their friends were here and would be kissing each other within seconds.  She didn’t want to be standing alone.  She smiled and added, “As long as I get my New Year’s kiss first.”

“That I can do.”  Brian pulled her close and as the brightly lit ball on the television slowly descended, he offered her a deeply sensuous kiss.  One kiss to bridge two years.

***

In one voice, the Bob-Whites and their friends shouted, “Happy New Year!” and then they were all hugging and kissing one another.  As Mart and Sally poured champagne for everyone to toast the new year, Trixie and Dan slipped out onto the balcony to try and catch a glimpse of the Times Square celebration.

“What a wonderful place to finish off a great year,” Trixie murmured as she snuggled up against Dan’s chest.

I wonder what new places and mysteries this year will bring.  If it’s anything like last year, what a very happy new year it will be indeed!

 

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Author's Notes

Chapter 27 (9,171 words)  

A Happy New Year to you all and a Happy 2nd Jixaversary to me!  This wasn't actually intended to be my Jixanny story, but I'm glad I have something to offer to my faithful readers.  Originally, today was to be the unveiling of my Trixie Belden/West Wing crossover story.  I knew by mid-November that that wasn't gonna happen.  Then I wrote this story (I figured it was the only chance I'd have on this particular uni's timeline to use this Robert Frost title *g*), with the follow-up to the mysterious final scene to be my Jixanny story.  Well, that story turned out to be a little more involved and complicated than I expected and it's not done either.  But (hopefully!) it won't be long until those mysterious drabbles are made clear!

Thank you to Jix's founder CathyP and the wonderful current owners of Jix for providing a place for fanfic readers and writers to gather.  This truly is one of the very best places on the web and I'm so thankful to have friends as wonderful as the Bob-Whites!

Thanks, as always, to my editors, but a special thanks this go around to Ruth and Heather as they not only found time to edit during the busy holiday season, but got back my edits at the speed of light, meaning I was able to page this up well before I left for my holiday travels and take advantage of Front Page at work.  Thanks, ladies!!  Anything messed up is definitely my fault, especially since I basically rewrote the entire New Year's Eve drabbles after they had finished editing.  Sometimes the follow-up story changes everything. *g*

Abbott and Costello are, of course, the comedy team famous for the convoluted "Who's On First?" routine.

I may be bending the rules slightly as to GED requirements in the State of New York but you can take the test as young as 16 under certain eligibility requirements.

Sidney Poitier was one of the stars of the 1967 film Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?, also starring Katherine Hepburn (who won an Oscar for her performance) and Spencer Tracy (who was nominated for his performance).

Secret Service agents do have their working clothes custom made to accommodate weaponry and—fun fact—if required to work a formal outing, the Secret Service will pay for their formal wear.

National Geographic does offer both paid and unpaid internship programs in a variety of positions, including photographers, but I am using my own literary license as to the specific details on length, payment, opportunity, etc.  Chicago's Daily Herald hit 150,000 subscribers for the first time in late 2002.

The New Year's Eve section is made up of seven "drabbles", a story (or, in this case, scene) consisting of exactly 100 words (no more, no less).  It's meant to be mysterious and confusing...so contemplate away!

And if the very final scene sounds vaguely familiar, it's the final scene from Mead's Mountain, adjusted to fit the current time and place.  My apologies to whichever Kathryn Kenny wrote that one.  No plagiarism or offense is intended, but rather a tribute to the Trixie book that mentions my beloved Robert Frost.

The Wheeler penthouse was stated in Blinking Eye to be on Central Park West.  It could be two to three miles or less from Times Square.  I have no idea if you could see Times Square or not from a penthouse there, but Trixie and Dan "tried". *g*

Background is from Absolute Background Textures Archive and the numbers to start each scene, as well as the closing image are from Microsoft Clip Art.