Night before Thanksgiving,
9:36pm
“Oh, Trixie,” Helen called, suppressing a yawn. “Could you answer the phone, please?”
“Sure, Moms.” She jogged into the kitchen and snatched it up. “Belden residence.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Frayne,” Honey greeted.
“Mrs. Belden,” her best friend answered. Her tone turned more serious. “Hon, why are you calling this late? What’s wrong?”
Honey sighed. “I’m really sorry to bother everyone so late, but something’s just come up and we won’t be able to be there tomorrow and I wanted to apologise to your mother.”
“She was just going to bed. But I’ll give her the message.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to go.”
Trixie frowned at the receiver. From the sound of things, Honey had just dumped her end onto a table. She hastily put it back to her ear as she heard someone speaking.
“Are you there?” Brian asked, apparently for the second time.
“Yes. What’s going on?”
Her brother cleared his throat. “Honey isn’t feeling very well.”
“And that’s why you’re not coming? You know you’re going to miss the meeting, don’t you?”
For years, now, the Bob-Whites had met after the Beldens’ Thanksgiving Open House to decide the theme for that year’s combined Christmas celebration between all of their families. At first, they had chosen simple things, like Red or Home-made, but the ideas had become more elaborate as they went along. Most years, none dared to miss the meeting because that meant forfeiting their vote – and their chance to veto anything too outlandish.
“Yes, I understand that,” Brian replied, sounding weary, “but I can’t do anything about it. Honey’s caught some kind of bug, which is why she isn’t coming. Most unfortunately, I had it first – and half of my colleagues have it right now. I’m just leaving for work now to fill in and I’ll be lucky to get out of there before the weekend.”
“Oh, no!” She frowned. “Is Honey going to be okay all by herself?”
“She’ll be fine, so long as she keeps up her fluids.”
Trixie grimaced. “Well, tell her I hope she’s better soon. I’ll let you know what the meeting decides.”
“Thanks, Trixie. Good night.”
Thanksgiving morning,
7:12am
“Belden residence,” Trixie greeted, after snatching up the phone.
“Oh, Trix I thought I’d get Moms.” Mart’s voice showed his consternation. “Is she there?”
“She’s getting cleaned up after a small kitchen disaster,” Trixie explained. “Can I get her to call you back? Or can I take a message?”
He sighed. “Tell her I’m really, really sorry, but Di and I won’t be there today.”
“What? Why?”
“Now, don’t panic, because everyone’s okay, but we’ve had a minor accident.”
“Oh, no! Where are you? Do you need some help?”
“We’re fine – but it happened late last night, only an hour and a half from home. We’ve found a motel room for the night and, hopefully, we’ll be able to continue on in the morning and still spend the weekend. But we’re going to miss the Open House.”
“And the meeting,” she pointed out. “You do understand that you’ll forfeit your votes?”
“I’ll trust Brian to be the voice of reason. Sorry, but I’ve got to go. Tell Moms I’m sorry and hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He hung up before she could correct him.
Thanksgiving morning,
11:42am
“Trixie, please pick that up,” Helen asked, her hands full with two large platters of food.
Her daughter nodded and headed for the kitchen.
“Belden residence.”
“Trixie. It’s Dan.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve known you for eleven years. I know what your voice sounds like. Where are you? I thought you would be here by now.”
“Sorry. Something’s come up.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she muttered.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. What’s the problem?”
“Uncle Bill’s broken his leg.”
“He’s what? How did he do that?”
“He made me swear not to tell.” He went on before she could comment. “Anyway, I need to sort some things out for him and I don’t think I’m going to make it there in time. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
“You’ll forfeit your vote if you miss the meeting,” she reminded him.
“I’ll do whatever the majority decides. I’ve got to go, okay? See you later.”
“Bye.”
She put the phone down and frowned.
Thanksgiving evening,
6:57pm
“Shall I get that?” Jim asked his mother-in-law, as the phone rang again.
“Please,” she answered. “I can’t move a step.”
“Belden residence,” Jim greeted, then paused to listen. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”
Putting down the phone, he turned to his wife. “I need to go and help Dan and Regan. I’ll be back by about nine.”
“Do you want me to come along?” she asked. “We could have the meeting while we’re there.”
He shook his head. “I know you want to help, but I think Regan would be more comfortable with just Dan and me.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “And what about the meeting?”
“We’ll have it tomorrow, when more people can be there,” he suggested.
Trixie shook her head. “It’s traditional. And you know that if you don’t turn up, you forfeit your vote.”
“Fine. I forfeit my vote.” He leaned down to kiss her. “But I don’t see why we can’t just do it tomorrow or the next day.”
“Well, I don’t see why I can’t know what’s happening with Regan,” she countered.
“He won’t thank you for interfering,” Jim answered. “I’ve got to go. Be good.”
Trixie frowned. “Be good,” she repeated, under her breath. “I’ll show him good.”
Thanksgiving evening,
7:26pm
Trixie stomped her way up the path to the clubhouse and let herself in. She considered, for a moment, turning on the heater but decided that it wasn’t worth it for just her.
“It won’t be a long meeting,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t think there’ll be much discussion at all.”
Four minutes later, she checked her watch and cleared her throat.
“I call the Thanksgiving meeting of the Bob-Whites of the Glen to order. There’s only one item of business, of course. So, does anyone have any ideas for the Christmas theme this year?”
She looked around the empty table.
“No one has any suggestions? Well, my idea is that each person or couple who gave an excuse not to be here should contribute part of the theme. Let’s see. Honey and Brian aren’t here because of illness; Mart and Di because of an accident; Dan because of a rather mysterious injury; Jim because of men’s business that I’m apparently not even allowed to know about.” She frowned, thinking. “Illness. Sick. Vomiting. Spewing. Spewing lava. Volcanoes. Hawaii. Beaches and palm trees. Sun, sand, water. That beautiful blue water. Okay, that can be the first part: blue.”
She wrote that down on the paper she had brought.
“Now, the next part. Accident. Mistake. Error. Wrong. Bad. Hmm, this isn’t going anywhere. Accident. Surprise. Oh, I like that better. Happy. Cuddles. Puppies! Or, maybe animals in general. Zoos! Blue zoo. That’s great.”
She made the addition on her note.
“Mysterious. Secret. Exciting. Adventure. Travel. Istanbul. Wait, no one will let me get away with that. They need something more conventional. London? Paris? Germany? Finland? Italy!”
She jotted that down.
“Last, secret men’s business.” She frowned. “Separated. Apart. Alone. Or, how about together? Bunch. Bunch of grapes. Fruit. Pear. Pair? No, fruit. What’s a fruit that rhymes with Italy?”
She scribbled the words in various orders.
“I’ve got it! Italian Blue Fruity Zoo!”
Satisfied with her evening’s work, she closed up the clubhouse and returned to her parents’ home.
Saturday,
7:41pm
“Our theme is what?” Di demanded, as the group gathered together at last.
“Italian Blue Fruity Zoo,” Trixie repeated. “Each of your excuses contributed a part.”
“Which part is ours?” Di asked, faintly.
“Zoo, of course.” Trixie shook her head. “You all agreed that if you didn’t come to the meeting, according to the rules that we’ve been using for years and years, that your votes were forfeited.”
“Exactly how many people attended this meeting, Trixie?” Brian asked.
“That’s beside the point.” She frowned at him. “Those were the rules.”
Mart laughed and settled back in his chair. “She’s got us there. I think it will be fun. And I’m looking forward to some Italian food. Lasagna, for example.”
“Just so long as we don’t end up with blue lasagna,” Dan added, with a smirk.
Mart shrugged. “Blue lasagna will taste just as good. And if others are unwilling to partake, I will make the ultimate sacrifice and eat their share.”
Dan snickered. “I dare someone to make lasagna out of fruit and weird animals and make it blue.”
“This is going to be an interesting Christmas, to say the least,” Brian noted.
“Nominations for someone to break the news to all our parents?” Jim asked, eyes twinkling.
Di nodded at once. “I nominate Trixie.”
“Seconded!” cried Honey. “I know I don’t want to have to – especially since it’s my family’s turn to host.”
“All in favour?” Jim glanced around. “That’s carried.”
“You want me to tell all the parents?” Trixie shook her head. “We always tell our own parents.”
“But the Bob-Whites have voted and made this decision,” Di told her, with great seriousness. “It’s the rules.”
Trixie laughed and gave in with good grace.
Christmas morning,
11:26am
Trixie could not help but smile as they approached Manor House. Her mother-in-law, while reluctant at first, had certainly risen to the occasion. Swathes of branches hung between the verandah columns, entwined with blue velvet ribbons. The posts were decorated with alternating arrangements of gold fruit and gold zoo animals. The overall effect was both elegant and quirky.
“I’m not sure she’s managed to work in ‘Italian’ anywhere,” Jim noted, amused, “but the rest is there all right.”
Once they reached the door, Trixie pointed to the wreath. “Here’s the Italian element.”
Jim pressed the bell and leaned in to examine the unexpectedly blue and gold holly berries, which turned out to be millefiori glass beads.
The door opened, so that Jim was left leaning into nowhere and Honey urged them to come in out of the cold.
“Are you really sure about this theme you chose, Trixie?” she asked, her face twitching with the effort not to grin.
“It’s a little late to back out now,” Jim pointed out, after giving his sister a kiss on the cheek. “The food is prepared, the gifts are bought and the decorating is done.”
“Yes, I think Mother actually enjoyed the challenge, when she’d gotten over the shock.”
“The Bob-Whites chose the theme, not just me,” Trixie objected, rather belatedly. “You all contributed.”
Honey shook her head. “Then why can’t you explain how you got it? Let’s face it, Trixie; you just pulled those random words out of the air.”
“It all made perfect sense at the time,” Trixie mumbled.
“Well, as it happens, I’m not sorry,” Honey consoled her. “I stopped being mad right around the time I found out we’re having lasagna alongside the turkey and Italian cookies that Dad brought back from Los Angeles.”
“Mmm-mm.” Jim smiled down at his sister. “If that’s the reward, I vote we let Trixie choose bizarre themes every year.”
His wife swatted at his arm. “The least you could do is pretend to support me.”
The doorbell rang again and Honey left them to answer it, while Jim and Trixie continued on to the living room. Quite a crowd had already gathered and they split up, each greeting different family members or friends.
“Everyone gather around,” Matthew Wheeler called, some time later. “I think we’re all here now, so we might do the first part of the gift exchange.”
Beneath the towering tree, decked in the same blue and gold as the outside decorations, lay mounds of brightly-wrapped gifts. A tradition had developed over the years, of dividing the giving into several parts and all those arriving needed to place their contributions according to when they should be given. Usually, the smaller and more light-hearted gifts were given in the first sitting, before the meal.
Soon, the available chairs were all taken and those younger ones missing out had settled on the floor. Matthew began to distribute the first pile of gifts, starting with a small, red package for Helen Belden and a gaudy green, orange and purple one for Trixie.
She held up the heavy cylinder, frowning. “It looks and feels like a can.”
“Maybe you should open it,” Jim suggested.
Trixie tore off the paper and stared at the can of Italian tomatoes. “Oh. Thanks, Dan.”
“No probs.” He snickered at her frowning face. “It just went with the theme, you know.”
Across the room, Honey unwrapped a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates and Trixie’s scowl deepened.
Minutes later, Matthew handed her another package.
“This is more promising.”
She weighed the cream and gold striped box with the gold ribbon in her hand and shook it a little to hear it rattle. Lifting the lid, however, her face fell.
“Plastic animals? I don’t even have kids!”
“You can save them for when you do,” Mart suggested, grinning.
“Maybe I don’t want kids,” she retorted.
Mart only shrugged. “You can save them for my future kids.”
“Thanks so much, Mart and Di.”
“You’re welcome,” Mart replied, as if the thanks had been genuine.
When a blue and silver gift bag landed in her lap a short time later, Trixie didn’t get her hopes up. She pulled out the sheet of blue tissue paper that hid the contents and stared. Inside was a plastic box holding one single cupcake, topped with a swirl of frosting and shimmering with edible glitter.
“It’s blue.” She lifted it out and gazed at it critically. “Did you bake this, Hon?”
Her best friend nodded. “It’s not quite as blue as I was hoping, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.”
Trixie did not have to force a smile. “This is my best present yet.”
She arranged the three gifts in front of her on the thick carpet. “Okay. I’ve got Italian, and blue, and zoo. So, I guess there’s one left, which should go right here.”
At that moment, Matthew placed another cylinder, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied in a red ribbon, into the space.
“It’s another can,” she noted, picking it up. “And it doesn’t say who it’s from.”
“Open it,” Di urged, while fastening a delicate bracelet consisting of silver animals around her wrist.
Trixie sighed and tore off the paper. “Pears! Canned pears in heavy syrup. I don’t even like fruit in heavy syrup – and neither does Jim.”
Her husband took the can from her, read the label and murmured, “Oops.”
“This was from you? Jim!”
“I meant to buy pears in natural juice. Those must have been in the wrong place,” he explained.
Suddenly, Trixie laughed. “You each contributed your own part of the theme.”
Her friends converged on her, some of them giving her hugs.
“It’s really a great theme and it’s been loads of fun to shop for,” Di told her, “but we never would have agreed if any of us had actually been there.”
“As much fun as it’s been, however,” Brian put in, “you can rest assured that the rules will be revised before next year.”
“And here’s your real present from the rest of the Bob-Whites,” Honey added, handing her a light, squashy parcel, wrapped in silver and blue paper.
Trixie tore open the paper and found a hand-knitted scarf in a delicate blue, with silver threads shining here and there. She wound it around her neck at once, her earlier annoyance completely forgotten.
“Oh, it’s beautiful, and so soft. Did you knit this, Honey?”
Her best friend nodded. “Mart and Di chose the yarn and Dan delivered it to me and Jim and Brian chose the pattern. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Thank you. I will.” She snuggled into it and sighed. “This has got to be the best theme ever. I can’t wait to come up with next year’s!”
The End