Author’s notes: This story was written for the annual Jix author Secret Santa. The original recipient, who chose the criteria, was Trish. Merry Christmas, Trish! I hope you enjoyed the story. Mary N. (Dianafan) very kindly edited. Thank you, Mary! I really appreciate your help and encouragement. I couldn't use all of your wonderful suggestions as the graphics were already done and I had no time to alter them. Merry Christmas, everyone!

“We've got to tell them,” Di asserted. Her chin rested on her entwined hands, which rested in turn on the conference table of the Bob-White clubhouse. “It's not as if they wouldn't notice if we didn't.”

“They're never going to believe it was an accident.” Trixie dropped her chin onto her hands to match Diana's pose. “It looks so deliberate.”

Di tapped a finger against her chin, thinking about what had happened. “I'm not so sure, now, that it was a good idea to spread it into a rectangular shape, but it looked so awful as a splodge.”

“At least you didn't get any on your fingers.” Trixie raised her chin far enough to waggle her reddened hands at the others before dropping it back into place. “And I've got some in my hair.”

“They're not going to be happy about it,” Honey pointed out, not for the first time. “I really don't want to be there when they find out.”

Trixie let out a groan. “You're the tactful one. You should be the one breaking the news. Just imagine what would happen if I told them!”

“Exactly the same thing as if any of us told them.” Honey leant her chin on her hands, just like her friends. “They're going to be furious. Why did I ever volunteer to sew Santa decorations at the last minute, when, really, there were enough decorations for the benefit without them?”

“Why did we think it was a good idea to borrow the Bob-White station wagon is more to the point,” Di corrected.

“If they weren't so particular about it, it wouldn't be such a problem.” Trixie directed a fierce glare at the absent members of their club.

“Maybe we could write them a note.” Di cast a glance at the ceiling, as if looking for inspiration. “A text message would do. Anything to put some distance between us and them when they first know what we've done.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “I bet they'd find out for themselves before they even got it and then they'd be even madder. Let's face it: we've got to tell them and we've got to do it real soon, and if we're going to tell them soon, we need to decide who's going to do the telling, and it had better not be me.”

Di scratched around in her pocket, pulled out a quarter and began to idly flip it. “If only someone had bothered to invent a three-sided coin, we could have tossed for it.”

“That's a great idea!” said Honey. “Not the three-sided coin, I mean, but the idea of tossing a coin to decide, only not one coin, but two, if you see what I mean, because then there'd be three possible combinations, just like there are three of us and we wouldn't have to actually choose, since it would be pure luck, so I'll just go and get another one from the temper box.” A short time later, Honey returned to the table with a dime. “So, who'll take two heads, who'll take two tails and who'll have one of each?”

“Two tails,” Trixie called.

Di hesitated before choosing two heads. With a nervous smile, Honey blew on the coins in her hand for luck, and sent them spinning in the air. The quarter came down on the table with a thump, then rolled right off the edge and across the floor. The dime spun for a moment and rattled to a stop almost in the middle of the table.

“Yes!” cried Di, seeing the tail-side of the coin uppermost and engaging in a little celebratory dance.

“Is it me, or you?” Trixie wondered, giving her best friend a commiserative look as the suspense drew out.

Honey peered down at the floor, looking for the lost coin. “Uh, I don't know. I can't see the quarter.”

Heaving a sigh, Di bent down to help. “I see it – over there by the wall. It's a head. Honey's legendary tact to the rescue!”

“Phew!” Trixie dashed a hand across her brow in a gesture of exaggerated relief. “I'm so glad I don't have to tell them. Brian is going to be absolutely wild with me anyway, without making it worse by having to explain it.”

“I just knew I shouldn't have let you two call,” Honey grumbled good-naturedly. “If Jim, Brian, Mart and Dan eat me alive, you'll know who to blame – yourselves!”

“They won't eat you,” Di scoffed. “It's only a car, after all, and it's not like the damage is anywhere really important, like the engine, or the outside metal-y bits, or the wheels, and it doesn't affect how it runs or anything, and since nothing we've tried has made it even look like it might come off, it's not going to stain anything else, so I don't see what the problem is. It's quite minor, really.”

Trixie covered her eyes. “Just trying telling that to those four manly men when they find out we turned half of the back seat of their pride and joy pink.”

“Do not use the 'P' word.” Di covered her eyes with her hand. “Not even when it's just us. We did not turn it pink; we turned it a kind of pale red. And it wasn't half the seat, it was more like… three-sevenths, maybe? That would be our share of the seat, I guess, so it shouldn't matter all that much. And anyway, we're the ones who usually drive it now, since they're all in college.”

Honey groaned and rested her chin on her hands once more. “Who would've thought that tan car seats turned pink when you spill red dye all over them?”

“Honey! I mean it about the 'P' word.”

“Sorry.” She gave a shrug. “They're never going to let us drive it again.”

“They're never going to let us sit in it again,” Trixie corrected.

Di groaned. “If we want any chance of going within ten feet of it again, you'd better hurry up and break the news, Honey, before they find out for themselves.”

Her friend sighed unhappily. “I guess so. Wish me luck!”

The snow crunched under Honey's feet as she wandered toward Manor House, half hoping to meet one of the male Bob-Whites and half-hoping to avoid all of them completely. She had almost reached the house when she saw Jim approaching from the direction of the stables and stopped to wait for him.

“How was your shopping trip?” he asked.

She gave a non-committal shrug. “They didn't have the red fabric I needed. We didn't think we had time to keep shopping around, with only one more day until the benefit, so we bought plain white cotton and some red fabric dye. I'm not so sure it was a good idea, though.”

“I'm sure it will be fine,” he answered, running lightly up the front stairs. “By the way, where is the Bob-White station wagon? Brian and I need to pick up some things tonight to save time tomorrow.”

“Oh, it's around somewhere.” Honey could feel her brother's disbelief at that vague statement, but her nerve failed her when she thought of confessing the truth.

“Well, do you have the keys?”

“No.”

Jim stopped and cast a questioning glance in her direction. “Honey, when I gave you the keys this morning, I distinctly remember telling you I'd like them back.”

“Sorry. I forgot.” She tried to affect an air of casual unconcern, but did not feel as if she had pulled it off.

“Where are they?” His temper began to flare.

“You could ask Di,” Honey suggested, glancing at her watch and exclaiming at it in an entirely artificial manner. “She'll be here any minute, I think, and I've got to run.”

Without waiting for an answer, she darted upstairs to her room. Closing the door, she leaned her head against it. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she muttered. “I should have just told him. Now he's mad and suspicious and how will I get out of here without him catching me?”

Frowning to herself, she picked up the phone and dialled Di's cell phone. Without so much as a greeting, her friend asked, “Have you told them?”

Honey sighed. “No. I chickened out at the last moment, and now I'm trapped in my room and I can't get out and Jim wants the keys and everything's gone wrong, so can you and Trix meet me here so we can make a new plan?”

“We'll be right there,” Di answered, ending the call.

Honey paced back and forth and berated herself for her cowardly actions. The time dragged as she waited and her dismal mood became even darker, even as she heard her friends’ footsteps in the hall. After a quiet knock, the door opened to reveal a pair of violet eyes and a mischievous grin.

“Get in here quickly,” Honey cried softly, rushing over to pull her friend by the arm. “We don't want Jim to see you.”

Di shrugged and Trixie shut and locked the door behind herself. “We've already seen Jim. He asked me for the keys, only I told him there was something I wanted to take out first.”

“Which is strictly true,” Trixie continued, though her cheeks flushed a little. “We really would like to take the stain out, only it doesn't want to be taken.”

“So, he scowled at us and said we had half an hour,” Di finished, dropping onto the bed. “After that, he's coming after us.”

Honey covered her face in her hands. “Oh, what are we going to do? I just can't stand to tell them, only now we've got a definite deadline and we're going to be in so-o-o-o-o much trouble before it’s all over!”

“If it was only Jim, we wouldn't have any problems,” Di mused. “Trixie could just seduce him.”

Honey was sincerely glad that she had not given her friends anything to drink. If Trixie's mouth had been full when Di made her statement, the whole room would have been spluttered upon. As it was, Trixie could barely speak.

“What? You can't mean that! I mean – How would that help?” Flushing a bright red, she took a calming breath and continued in a stern voice. “That sort of suggestion does not help. We have a charity benefit to prepare for, all those children depending on us to make their Christmas brighter, and lots of work still to do. Whether Jim and I are, or aren't, well – you know – has nothing to do with it. And I'm still not telling, Di, so stop trying to make me!”

Honey's nose screwed up in distaste. “And I don't want to know, so please stop trying to make her tell you in front of me! And, I'm with Trixie: that sort of suggestion doesn't help.”

“It sure would distract him, though,” Di answered, sinking down among the pillows with a theatrical sigh.

“We can't seduce all of them, can we?” Honey added, trying very hard to be reasonable.

As a meditative look settled on Di's face, the other two both cried, “No!”

“But it's such a good idea.” Di's eyes were wide and her expression impossibly innocent. “Just think how–”

“Di!” her friends interrupted.

“Okay, so I wasn't thinking of actual seduction,” she admitted, “but more like… softening the blow, if you see what I mean? We'll just have to think of something nice we can do for each one so they'll be more likely to be lenient.”

“And not throw us out of the club,” Trixie added in a dismal voice.

“And we've only got half an hour to do all of these good deeds?” Honey's brow creased into a worried frown. “That's a lot to fit in, especially since we haven't thought of them yet.”

Di shrugged. “It won't be so hard. Mart's easy; we only need to give him something he likes to eat. I think I heard Brian say earlier that his shoulders were hurting from all the lifting he's been doing, so he'd probably like a massage – or even the promise of one later.” Di raised an eyebrow at Honey, who promptly blushed. “Dan would probably like some help with wrapping his Christmas gifts – he always complains about having to do that. So, is that settled? I'll find something in the kitchen; Honey, you can promise Brian a massage and whichever of us two sees Dan first can offer to help with his Christmas gift wrapping.”

Trixie frowned, knowing that she was about to be teased some more, but unable to avoid it. “What about Jim?”

“Oh, that's even easier than Mart. You just kiss him for half an hour and he won't remember his own name, let alone the existence of the Bob-White station wagon.”

“Hardy-har-har.” Trixie shot her friend a scowl. “What will we really do for Jim?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something, Trix,” Di assured her with a comforting pat. “Now, Honey, we've got to run if we're going to be ready. Let's go.”

“Just great,” Trixie muttered, as the door closed behind the other two. “Now what will I do?”

At around the same time, Mart and Dan were crossing the Frayne property after collecting evergreen branches to be used for decorations, when they noticed something strange between the trees. Down near the bottom of the drive was a vehicle of some sort. Without having to discuss the matter, they went to investigate.

“Isn't that the Bob-White station wagon?” Dan asked, as they approached. “What's it doing here?”

Mart frowned. “I thought the girls were doing some shopping and then Jim was going to run some errands. I didn't think any of those errands would bring him here…”

“So, what have those girls done to it?” Dan finished, dumping the load of greenery he carried onto the ground and striding over to peer in the windows. “I don't really see anything wrong… oh, that'll be the problem. They've turned the seat pink.”

“Here, let me look,” Mart demanded, pushing his friend aside. “That's pink, all right. I wonder how they did it?”

Dan gave the question a casual shrug of dismissal and went to pick up his bundle. “Let's get back and get rid of this stuff. I've still got a few things to do before it gets dark tonight.”

Casting a thoughtful glance over his shoulder at the station wagon, Mart followed along. “Of course, we can't let them think we don't mind,” he added, slowly. “This sort of thing just screams out for retribution.”

“What does it matter?” Dan asked. “So what if it's pink?”

“It's the principle of the thing,” Mart sniffed.

“Whatever,” Dan replied.

Fifteen minutes later, they met Jim and Brian in the Manor House drive. A vast pile of goods on the nearby verandah awaited the arrival of the station wagon to take them to the Country Club, where the charity benefit was to be held.

“You haven't seen the girls, have you?” Brian asked, rather irritably. “They're acting in a very suspicious manner. Honey just offered to give my shoulders a massage.”

Enlightenment suddenly dawning, Mart began to laugh. “I haven't seen them,” he managed to reply, “but I think I know what their problem is.” With an economy of words that would have seemed impossible just a few years earlier, he described the large pink section of seat they had seen.

“Honey did say something about red dye,” Jim remembered. “Maybe it spilled. I guess that would probably turn the seat pink.”

“That doesn't explain how they made it look like it was meant to be,” Mart added with a frown. “Straight edges, I said – well, reasonably straight.”

“I would guess that they found that it wouldn't come out and used the remaining dye to even it out.” Brian gave a nod, as if to give a seal of approval to his own logic. “At least it wouldn't be unsightly that way.”

“So why haven't they owned up?” Jim wondered. “I've seen all three of them. It's not like they haven't had a chance.”

Dan puffed out his chest a little. “They think we're too manly to drive a car with a pink seat.”

“Yeah, right,” Mart contradicted. “They don't think we're manly enough not to be threatened by a pink seat. They are so going to pay for this!”

“I don't think there's any question of them paying for it.” Brian frowned at his brother. “It's obvious that they've done their best, and they're afraid we'll be angry. We should be reassuring them that we're not mad at them for what must have been purely accidental damage, and not particularly serious at that.”

“Didn't you say that Honey offered you a massage?” Dan asked, a sly smile spreading across his face. “Why demand payment, when they seem to be offering it? I'm going inside to look for the girls and see if they offer one to me. I have lots of aches and pains that could do with some attention.”

“Not from my girlfriend,” Jim called after him, scowling deeply. To the others he added, “Their half-hour is almost up; I'm going to get those keys.”

He stalked inside, almost colliding with Honey as she dashed in the opposite direction. “Oh!” she cried. “Sorry, Jim. Can't stop.”

“The keys?” he demanded, even as she tore down the front steps.

“Trixie has them. In my room, I think.”

Jim barely spared a glance for Di, who passed him carrying an enormous slice of chocolate cake on a paper napkin. His steps were light as he ran up the stairs, but the frown had not been smoothed from his brow. He reached Honey's door and paused to calm himself before knocking and announcing himself.

“Come in,” Trixie replied, her voice sounding rather more muffled than he expected.

He opened the door slowly. Trixie was sitting on the bed, her knees raised and her face pressed against them. She raised her eyes to meet his, a tentative look clouding her expressive face.

“You haven't been offering massages to Dan, have you?” he asked, only half-joking.

Her head jerked up. “What? Of course not! What makes you think… ” The tentative look returned. “Is there a problem?”

“You tell me.”

“There might be a couple of small problems,” she admitted. Her hands emerged from between her knees, displaying their reddish tinge. “We had a little accident with the red dye.”

He nodded and sat down next to her. “I didn't think the red streak in your hair was meant to be a fashion statement.” Shifting backwards until his back was against the wall, Jim pulled her into his lap. “So, are you going to own up to the rest, or are you intending to butter me up first?”

She gave him a momentary deer-caught-in-the-headlights stare before relaxing into his arms. “I couldn't quite think of the right approach.” Her fingers gently stroked the slight roughness at the edge of his jaw. “You know, don't you?”

He nodded, and began to rub her back. “We're not angry – no matter what Mart tries to tell you later.”

A breathy sigh escaped her lips. “I'm so glad. Di's ideas of what I should do to keep your mind off it were a bit… um…”

“I don't want to know, do I?” he asked, giving her a squeeze to mask a slight shift in posture. Their lips met briefly, but Jim could feel the heat rising between them as he imagined what Di might have said. “As much as I'm enjoying this, there's still a lot of work to do this afternoon. Why don't I drive you over to Ten Acres to pick up the station wagon? You've got the keys, haven't you?”

In answer, she pulled them out of her pocket and held them up. She slid off his lap and onto the floor, holding out a hand to help him up. Somehow, in the process, they ended in another embrace. Jim looked down into Trixie's upturned face and mirrored her smile.

“You're really not mad?” she asked.

“Well, I haven't seen the damage for myself, yet,” he admitted, “but I don't feel mad after hearing Mart's description. Did you really expect me to be?”

Her cheeks reddened in what Jim considered to be an adorable manner. “It might have been fun to make it up to you.”

“To everything there is a season,” he whispered. “And am I ever looking forward to that one!”

Merry Christmas, Trish! I hope you enjoyed this little Christmas problem for the Bob-Whites as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. It wasn't exactly what I was aiming for, but I hope you like it anyway. While I remember, I did not do any destructive testing of car seats in research for this story, but do remember once getting red ball point pen on something or other of that nature, and that it turned out really quite violently pink (much brighter than the background of this page). — Janice

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