Preparing for a wedding, Trixie thought, ought to be a perfectly good way to ruin Christmas. Instead, it was turning out to be the most fun she'd had in years. Honey and Brian had considered telling Mr. and Mrs. Belden of their plans, but decided to keep them uninformed so that they would be able to claim plausible deniability in the case that Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler took the news even more poorly than anticipated.

"You really don't think your father will be angry with you?" Trixie whispered as she and Honey changed into nightclothes and turned back the covers on the twin beds in Trixie's room. She gnawed her lip anxiously, thinking of Matthew Wheeler's temper.

"Oh, I've no doubt Father will be furious in the beginning," Honey answered cheerfully. "But he'll come around. Especially if the marriage is fait accompli."

"You're certain?" Trixie asked doubtfully. After all, this was the man who had forbidden Honey to marry a doctor of no particular standing. Why Honey thought that he would change his mind was beyond Trixie.

"He wants me to marry well," Honey continued, her tone matter of fact. "But what he really wants is for me to be happy. Once he sees how happy I am with Brian, he'll come around."

"If you're so certain," Trixie said slowly, "why didn’t you…" Her voice trailed off. She and Honey had grown remarkably close over the last week, but it was still probably beyond the bounds of propriety why to ask why she hadn't eloped with Brian earlier.

"I wasn't entirely certain of how Brian felt," Honey admitted, ducking her head shyly. "He was always wonderful to me, and I thought he had feelings for me, but just because he had feelings for me didn't necessarily mean that he was willing to risk my father's wrath." She bit her lip. "Did that make sense?"

"Brian's not a coward," Trixie said firmly.

"I never said he was!" Honey protested, sitting up and clutching a pillow to her stomach. "A brave man doesn't fight every battle he comes across, you know. At least, a smart brave man doesn't."

"That's true," Trixie admitted reluctantly. "So… What happened in the kitchen that made both of you willing to take the risk?"

A flush crept up Honey's face. "Oh, Trixie," she breathed, biting her lip. "It was so romantic!"

"Crabapple Farm kitchen? Romantic?" Trixie scoffed.

"Well, it might not be as romantic as a snow bank," Honey teased.

Trixie's face flamed. Brian had told her about the snow bank?

Taking pity on her friend, Honey leaned back against the simple pine headboard of the twin bed. "I don't know if it was seeing Brian again after being separated for so long, or if it was the strangeness of seeing him in such a different setting, but…" She looked away, her expression dreamy. "I didn't have any doubts," she finally said. "It was as if I suddenly knew exactly how I felt, and how he felt, too." Her wistful smile was enough to make Trixie wonder if falling in love and getting married wouldn't really be such a terrible idea. Maybe with the right person…

"Trixie, he said the most beautiful things," Honey continued, eyes shining. "The first words out of his mouth were to tell me how healthy I looked, and how relieved he was."

Trixie frowned. Being complimented on her health was about the least romantic thing she could think of.

"I told him it was all due to spending time at Crabapple Farm, and he told me that if that was the case, he wanted me to stay here forever."

Well, that was a bit better, Trixie decided. Still, the more she heard, the more she thought Brian had been awfully lucky to get Honey to agree to marry him.

"I said I couldn't possibly; that my family would be returning to New York in a few weeks, and from there that we would probably sail for Europe."

Trixie's eyes widened. Europe?

"Mother likes to go to Paris every few years," Honey explained. "To stay in touch with the latest fashions."

"You can't!" Trixie exclaimed, surprising both Honey and herself by how violently she protested. "It's so far," she explained. "I'd miss you."

"And I'd miss you!" Honey exclaimed, impulsively leaving her bed to throw her arms around Trixie in a hug. "You have no idea how wonderful it's been for me to spend time at Crabapple Farm." She looked around the room wistfully. "This is all I've ever wanted, you know."

"A cramped room with hand-sewn quilts?" Trixie asked doubtfully.

"No," she replied softly. "A home."

    

Christmas morning dawned cold and crisp, but Trixie shot from her bed as if propelled from a canon. A quick glance at the twin bed beside her told her that Honey was already awake and most likely below stairs, helping Mrs. Belden and Mrs. Vanderpoel with the myriad of dishes they'd be eating throughout the day.

And really, what bride slept late on her wedding day?

She arrived in the kitchen to find the three women hard at work rolling out dough, browning meat, and other tasks that Trixie couldn't properly identify.

"Isn't it a glorious day?" Honey sang, beaming, when Trixie mumbled a sleepy "good morning".

Trixie blinked the remaining sleep from her eyes and took a closer look at her sister-in-law-to-be. Honey's hair was escaping from the loose bun she'd swept it into, flour dotted her apron and practically covered her hands and arms, her face was flushed from working so close to the cook stove, and she looked happier than Trixie had ever seen her.

"Of course it's a glorious day," Trixie said, starting to feel a little more alert. "It's Christmas, isn't it?" she said, winking in Honey's direction.

Honey flushed further, and Trixie knew that Christmas had very little to do with Honey's good spirits.

The morning passed in a flurry of stockings, breakfast, presents, and liveliness. Tad had gone to Sleepyside to be with his parents and siblings, but Mrs. Vanderpoel had no family in the immediate area and was happy to share the day with the Beldens. At precisely two o'clock, a smart tap at the door announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler. Honey hurried to the door and greeted her parents with a mixture of relief and nervousness.

"Mother, Father," Honey said, when everyone had found a place in the sitting room. "Before we go in to dinner, there's one more present."

Mr. Wheeler looked at her in surprise. "But we already opened our gift from you," he reminded her. "The scarves you knit us are beautiful."

Honey smiled nervously. "I'm very glad that you like them," she said. "But this present is actually from you to me."

Her father raised an eyebrow, obviously intrigued. "Oh?" he questioned, smiling indulgently. "Did you dip into my savings to buy a little something extra for yourself this year?"

Honey's nerves seemed to dissipate a little and she swatted at his arm good-naturedly. "No," she scolded. "You know I wouldn't do that."

"I know," he replied, smiling indulgently as he caught her hand and kept it in place on his forearm. "Now," he said, giving her hand a pat. "Why don't you tell me about this marvelous present I've given you?"

Honey darted a look toward Mr. Frayne, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "What have you always wanted most for me, Father?"

Mr. Wheeler cocked his head to the side, taken aback by her question. "Honey?" he said, bewildered. "I'm not sure I—" He stopped. "Your happiness," he said, his tone firm and soft. "Your happiness and your health. Always. Even when you may not have thought so."

Honey sighed in relief, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "What if I told you that you could grant both? Easily?"

"Honey," he said, his tone serious. "I think you'd better explain."

"You've seen how much healthier I've been, staying at Crabapple Farm," she began, moving to sit between her mother and father. Mr. Wheeler nodded while Mrs. Wheeler merely waited for Honey to elaborate. "Except for the day I arrived here," Honey continued, "I've been strong and healthy. Why, you should see how much I've eaten!"

Trixie elbowed Mart before he could make the comment so obviously on the tip of his tongue.

"That's wonderful," Mr. Wheeler said. "I'm sure that we're all very grateful to the Beldens."

"Yes," Honey said, biting her lip. "All of the Beldens. Father, one of the reasons I've been so healthy and strong here is…"

She rose from her seat on the couch between her parents and gestured to the doorway. Brian, who had hidden himself upstairs when the Wheelers arrived, entered the room and immediately took the hand that Honey extended toward him.

Matthew Wheeler bolted to his feet, but Mr. Frayne was beside him in an instant, firmly preventing him from approaching the young man Mr. Wheeler had hoped to banish from his daughter's life.

"You needn't bother," Mr. Frayne said softly. "I've already hit him. And apologized for it."

Mr. Wheeler shook off Mr. Frayne's arm and glared at Brian. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"It wasn't planned," Honey insisted, standing between her father and her fiancé. "You thought Brian was from Philadelphia. I had no idea that his family lived in Westchester County, and that he was even acquainted with these Beldens."

"I'm Trixie's brother," Brian said, looking Mr. Wheeler in the eye. He didn't offer to shake hands, accurately judging that Mr. Wheeler wasn't quite ready to accept the civility.

Mr. Wheeler crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. "And you knew about this?" he demanded of Mr. Frayne.

He nodded, refusing to be cowed by the other man's bristling rage. "Yes, sir, I did." He waited until Mr. Wheeler tamped down his anger. "And I also knew about how much happier Honey was when she saw him." He waited for his words to sink in. "And I also saw how Brian would do anything to make her happy." He paused. "I think that you and I might have been wrong about Brian Belden."

"Wrong about Brian?" Helen Belden asked. "Whatever do you mean? It was obvious that Brian and Honey knew each other from New York and that Brian had been her doctor, but is there more to it than that?" she asked, eyeing her eldest son sternly.

"No," Honey said, abandoning her position between Mr. Wheeler and Brian. "That is, we…" She blushed. "After a time Father insisted that I see only Dr. Ferris," she said, looking down. "We never…"

"But you fell in love somehow anyway," Mrs. Belden said. Her attention snapped back to Mr. Wheeler. "I assure you that we knew nothing of the matter, and that nothing untoward has happened for the duration of Miss Wheeler's visit with us." Lips pursed, she glanced sideways at her daughter and said under her breath, "After all, it isn't as if Honey and Brian were in the habit of disappearing outside for snowball fights."

Trixie's eyes widened and her gaze went immediately to Mr. Frayne, whose lips were twitching. For a moment she tuned out the conversation dominating the room and remembered the feel of being pressed between James Winthrop Frayne II and a cold, snowy drift. Her face heated, and she had to resist the urge to fan herself. They'd behaved themselves since. Or, rather, Mr. Frayne had. With a little pang, Trixie realized that she would have been more than willing to engage in another snowball fight any time he suggested one. Instead, they had kept a respectable distance, and only the occasional heated look had let Trixie know that he hadn't forgotten the moment they'd shared.

Her attention was drawn back to the scene unfolding before her when Honey grasped Mr. Wheeler's hand. "Father," she said, her voice resolute, "this is what I want. Brian is who I want, and that isn't going to change. If I don't marry Brian, I'll marry no one."

Mr. Wheeler stared down at her, obviously flummoxed by the fact that she was standing up to him. When his gaze moved to Brian, the young man stepped forward.

"Sir, I understand your reservations," he said softly. "I'll never be wealthy; not as you would define it. But I can promise Honey a good home, and I assure you that I will look after her until the day I die." He paused, and though his words were still addressed to Mr. Wheeler, his eyes were on Honey. "I love her."

"Where will you live?" Mr. Wheeler asked, and though his tone was still stern, the atmosphere in the room lightened considerably. "Do you have permanent lodgings in New York?"

"No, sir." He cleared his throat. "In fact, part of why I'm home for the Christmas holidays is because Sleepyside is in need of another physician, and I've been asked to return."

"Oh, Brian!" Mrs. Belden exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "That's wonderful!"

"I had planned to live at Crabapple Farm," he said, his eyes still on Honey. "But I've also been offered a small house in the town. It would be up to Honey where we live."

"Of course you'll live here!" Mrs. Belden exclaimed. "We've been talking about adding a few rooms on to the farmhouse. This way Honey will have privacy when she wants it and company when she's lonely." She stopped, and, realizing that she had spoken out of turn, flashed Honey an apologetic smile. "What I mean is, we'd be delighted if you chose to live at Crabapple Farm."

"Matthew! You aren't going to let them go on about this, are you? It's ridiculous!" Mrs. Wheeler brushed imaginary lint from her skirt.

"Is it?" Mr. Wheeler replied. His earlier anger had disappeared and been replaced by an air of reluctant acceptance. "You know she'll never be happy with any of the young men to whom you've introduced her."

Mrs. Wheeler frowned. "Perhaps she just hasn't met—"

"I have," Honey insisted. "I have met the right man." She squeezed Brian's hand.

"She's happy," Mr. Wheeler said simply. "Does anything else really matter?"

Mrs. Wheeler opened her mouth, but closed it again without voicing what Trixie suspected would have been an unfeeling comment.

"Very well," she said, obviously relegating the business of her only daughter's marriage to the furthest recess of her mind. Not for the first time, Trixie wondered how Honey had managed to come by her sweet disposition. Between her mother's indifference and her father's temper, it was a wonder that she wasn't a petulant, spoiled young lady accustomed to bending others to her will.

And then there was a flurry of activity as Reverend Mundy and his wife arrived, furniture was rearranged, and a wedding was contrived.

Later, Trixie was unable to recall even one word of what the practical, quiet minister had said. She would, however, remember how it felt to sit across the room from James Frayne, unable to keep her eyes from straying to him. And when the Reverend Mundy had pronounced Brian and Honey lawfully wedded and the dancing began, Trixie never recalled anything other than the heady feeling of once more being in the tall redhead's arms.

"It was a lovely ceremony," Trixie said wistfully several hours later as she tossed the last of the brown wrapping paper rubbish into a box. The sitting room was in a most uncommon state of disarray with furniture haphazardly rearranged, Christmas presents strewn on every available surface, and even a few stray plates that Trixie suspected her brother Mart was responsible for.

The only other occupant of the room nodded in agreement.

"I'd offer you a seat," Trixie laughed, "but there aren't any!" Even the sofas and chairs were piled high with the detritus of the day.

"I've a better idea," Mr. Frayne said, and extended his hand toward her. Trixie took it immediately, feeling suddenly shy. Honey and Brian had taken their leave several hours ago, but only after Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had returned to the Manor. Mr. and Mrs. Belden had retired, leaving Mart, Bobby, Trixie, and Mr. Frayne playing checkers at the kitchen table, but the Belden brothers had reluctantly called it a night, citing morning chores as their reason. Trixie and Mr. Frayne had remained, talking quietly as they made a half-hearted attempt at tidying.

"Any chance you're going to accuse me of losing my temper?" Mr. Frayne asked, causing Trixie to drop the practical shawl that her Aunt Alicia had sent her.

"What?" she asked, feeling tired and stupid from the long, emotionally draining day.

"The last time we played checkers," he said, moving closer and tugging her toward the kitchen, "you accused me of losing my temper, which led to a most invigorating snowball fight."

It was the first time he had referred to their snow caper, even obliquely, and Trixie flushed crimson. Though the day had been almost exclusively focused on Brian and Honey, she'd found her thoughts wandering to Mr. Frayne constantly, and though she'd never admit it, she couldn't stop herself from hoping, however futile it might be, that Mr. Frayne might really be interested in her. They weren't in the same class, not really, but neither were Brian and Honey, and they'd managed to—

She stopped herself. It would do no good to start thinking those kinds of thoughts, she told herself sternly. The odds that— No. It was best not to even consider it.

"You're referring to the snowball fight in which I completely trounced you?" Trixie taunted, determined not to take herself too seriously.

"Odd," he replied with a hint of a smirk. "That's not how I recall it at all. Perhaps a rematch is in order?"

She caught her breath, unable to quell a silly hope that the rematch he was suggesting was for the kiss they had shared, and not the actual snowball fight.

"I could do with a bit of fresh air," he continued. "Would you care to join me on the veranda?"

Heart leaping, she glanced at the back door leading to the veranda. "It's awfully late," she pointed out, more for her benefit than his. "And it's cold."

He raised a ginger eyebrow. "That didn't stop you before," he said, grinning roguishly. "And…" he paused dramatically, "I may have something to help with that. Well, the cold. I can't do much about the lateness of the hour."

Turning to the bank of hooks by the backdoor, Mr. Frayne shuffled coats and capes until he found what he was looking for. Smiling, he offered Trixie a royal blue coat.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, fingering the superfine winter weight wool. She slipped her arms in the sleeves and found that it fit like a dream. It was most certainly a coat that had been made with a woman in mind, and not just another cast off from her brothers.

"Where did you—"

"Sleepyside has a surprisingly talented seamstress," Mr. Frayne said, "who isn't averse to accepting a rush job a few days before Christmas." Leaning down, he plucked a pair of boots from the wooden shelf and extended them to her. These, she suspected, were still men's boots, but they were durable, warm, and best of all, new.

"I can't have you coming down with a cold every time I beat you in a snowball fight," he said lightly, tucking a scarf around her neck and encouraging her to don the boots.

"Who says you'd win?" Trixie demanded, secretly thrilled that he appeared to think that their acquaintance would continue.

"Trixie," he said, using her given name for the first time, "don't you know that just spending time with you means that I win?" He smiled down at her, his crooked grin causing her heart to flutter.

"Yes, Jim," she said, tucking her hand in his and allowing him to lead her out into the cold, starry night. "I know exactly what you mean."

A half hour later, they were still sitting on the wooden chairs, their breath making puffs of air that disappeared into the black night.

"I never dreamed when I met Honey that she would become my sister-in-law in less than two weeks," Trixie said, blowing on her chilly hands. "Do you think she'll be happy living so far from New York City?"

"Are you kidding?" Jim asked, taking her hand and sandwiching it between his. "Mr. Wheeler will have to purchase the Manor if they ever want to see her again." He paused, a small smile on his lips. "She's a country girl at heart, I think."

"And what about you?" Trixie asked, her voice breathless. They were pressed together, shoulder to hip, to conserve warmth, and she felt tingly with the nearness of him.

Jim's green eyes softened. "I'm not a country girl," he teased, his voice low in her ear and causing her to shiver for a reason other than the cold. "But I have a feeling a certain country girl has made her way into my heart. Will that do?"

"Yes, Jim," she said, happier than she even knew she was capable of feeling. "That will do just fine."