“Six to seven cups,” he muttered as he studied the faded cookbook. “That’s not very much. I’d have to double or triple it at least.” He continued reading. “I’m not so sure about this … hmmm.” He stopped and looked toward the doorway.

The wizened old man heard the truck coming long before the door slammed shut. He might be getting old and finding it increasingly difficult to get around, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing. The firm, crisp steps were as familiar to him as his own were. It didn’t matter that it had been almost six months since he’d heard them.

He pulled the door open. “Dan, my boy!” He grinned and embraced the fit young man in welcome. “It’s good to have you home.” He peered around the boy, expecting to see a familiar blonde with him. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

“She won’t be here until Thanksgiving afternoon,” the newcomer reminded Ira Maypenny. “She wanted to make sure she spent some time with her family first. What are you up to?”

“Nothing, nothing, just studying on some old recipes I’ve had.”

“Recipes? I didn’t think you used recipes.”

“Not for my stews and such, no, no, they don’t need a recipe. But, well … you see, um –“ He hemmed and hawed for a moment, while Dan looked on, amused.

“There’s no getting around it my boy, I was thinking about making something new.”

“Something new? Like what?”

“Waffles,” he mumbled. “I’ve got my eye on this fancy new waffle iron. It’s been years since I tried my hand at making something new, but this one caught my eye.”

“Waffles are good.” Dan grinned. It had been a while since the man had found something to interest him besides his garden and traps. It was good to see him take an interest in something new.

“Where did you see this waffle iron? Do we need to go pick it up?”

“No, I’m going to do some experimenting first, make sure it’s what I want, might try my hand at some pancakes first. Maybe you and some of your crowd could stop by one morning and test them for me. That Mart Belden, isn’t he going to be home for Thanksgiving? He’d be a good one.”

Dan looked around the cozy cabin. It had been several years since the homey place had been filled with Bob-Whites. “Yeah, Mart will be here. All of the Bob-Whites will be here for Thanksgiving. I think Brian’s leaving on Saturday, but we’ll all be home for Christmas. You know how we are; we don’t need much of an excuse to get together.”

“It’s been a while since everyone’s been home at the same time.” The old man grinned as he thought back fifteen years earlier to a Thanksgiving he’d never forget. The first Thanksgiving he’d met Honey Wheeler and Trixie Belden. A few months after that meeting, Dan came along. “What better reason is there to celebrate?”

Dan pulled a small blue box from his pocket and held it out for the old man’s inspection. “I was thinking of celebrating an engagement.”

 

 

“Don’t eat that pie!”

Jim jumped as sturdy fingers grasped his arm. The familiar voice was low but urgent, and he looked over at sparkling china-blue eyes. Suddenly, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He was unsure exactly what was causing the reaction, but he certainly hadn’t expected that feeling.

“What’s wrong with the pie?” he managed to get out.

“It’s disgusting,” Trixie replied as her eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone who might overhear her comments. “I’ve already thrown away three plates that had only one bite missing from the slice. I’m telling you; don’t let that almost-empty pie plate fool you. That is one terrible pie.”

“Did you make it?” he inquired, as he discreetly set the pie server down and turned towards the petite blonde.

Trixie snorted. “Heavens, no! I just hope Moms didn’t make that one either. I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings when I’ve only been back home a few days. She doesn’t always make every one of the desserts, you know. Other people help out.”

“But no one we know is a bad cook,” Jim pointed out. “Except that my mother can’t …”

Trixie rolled her eyes and interrupted. “Excuse me for being blunt, but it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce this. There is no way your mother made that pie.”

Jim laughed. It was good to be home. He stopped as the thought occurred to him. He’d lived in Sleepyside for only two years before leaving for college. Probably the shortest amount of time he’d lived anywhere, including the first twelve years of his life with his biological parents. But still, he thought of Sleepyside as home. So does she. Jim started as the thought popped into his head. “You said you’d only been home a few days,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Come on, get moving. Mr. Lytell’s heading this way. We haven’t even talked.”

“But I haven’t eaten anything!” he protested.

“You sound like Mart!” Trixie groaned. “Follow me into the kitchen. That’s where all the food is, anyway.” She tugged his arm, willing him to follow her.

Jim smiled. Neither of them had any way of knowing, but the second arm tug was the beginning of Jim’s realization of exactly what was meant to be. He looked at his arm in surprise. The odd tingle traveled in mere nanoseconds up his arm and to his chest. What was that? He wondered as he followed her willingly into the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

“Something strange is going on around here,” Trixie remarked as she heaped candied sweet potatoes onto Jim’s plate.

“Uh, Trixie …”Jim stared at the heaping plate of food in Trixie’s hand, cringing as she added another spoonful of green bean casserole.

“Seriously, that was an eggnog pie. Eggnog! Monday night, Mom served us this eggnog cake. It was like a pound cake, but it was nothing like a pound cake. Rascal wouldn’t even eat it! I went by Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house on Tuesday and instead of windmill cookies, she gave me some kind of eggnog cookie.” Trixie made a face that told exactly how she felt about the eggnog cookies.

“That’s really enough food …” Jim tried again as she added another slice of turkey to the plate.

“Mrs. Lynch had us all over last night for dinner to make things easier for Moms and she had eggnog pudding.” Trixie shuddered. “It was disgusting.”

Jim watched in horror as Trixie turned toward the plate of deviled eggs. She knew deviled eggs were one of the few foods he actively disliked. Moving quickly, he took the plate from her just in time. “There’s enough food on this plate for me and Mart,” he grinned. “And if you’re planning to give me deviled eggs, you need to be prepared to eat them.”

Trixie grinned. “Sorry, I forgot,” she replied sheepishly. Her hand waved toward the scarred but scrupulously clean kitchen table. “Sit. I’ll get you some tea.”

Within minutes, he was digging in to Helen Belden’s delicious turkey and stuffing, candied sweet potatoes and creamy, yet flavorful green bean casserole. Trixie placed a tall glass of iced tea in front of him to help wash it down before plopping down in the chair next to him.

“It feels funny to eat like this in front of you,” Jim complained. “Help me out here.”

Trixie reached for a piece of the moist turkey. “It always seems to taste better when you pick at the food,” she admitted. “I’ve been picking at the food since one o’clock this afternoon. Let’s just say that I feel more stuffed than Moms’ turkey.”

“Then tell me about your job,” Jim suggested, as he picked up his fork to dig in. “I need some clever conversation to go with this meal.”

Trixie snorted. “I could go find Mart,” she offered.

Jim shook his head. “Just talk to me, Trix,” he pleaded. “It’s been over a year since it’s just been you and me sitting and talking. Whatever happened to that guy, Frodo?”

Trixie groaned and playfully punched his arm. “For the last time, his name was not Frodo. Brody can’t help his real name. I never should have told you and Dan his real name.”

“It’s your own fault. You asked us for help getting him to notice you. Besides, he even looked like a hobbit.” He grabbed her hand to fend off another playful punch. “Just teasing, Beatrix.” He placed emphasis on her real name. “What happened? He’s not here, is he?”

Trixie glared. “You already know he’s not here. I told you and everyone else in an email it was a bust.”

Jim just managed to hide a grin. “Yeah, okay. So it didn’t go anywhere. What happened?”

Trixie heaved a mocking sigh of annoyance. Before answering, she picked a tidbit of turkey breast off Jim’s plate to nibble. “We were working a case together. Brody and Amy were the leads. Sean and I were to support them. It blew up, and the suspect managed to take Amy out and made a run for it. We both gave chase, and I managed to take the dirt bag down.”

“Okay, so how did that ruin things?”

“Brody, he, well, he, uh …” Trixie flushed and then looked up. “He got a stitch in his side after about a tenth of a mile. I finally caught the suspect a few blocks later. There was no chance for us after that. Brody couldn’t take it. Sean told me that Brody felt like I’d managed to emasculate him.” She shook her head with a rueful laugh. “It’s just a job, for Pete’s sake. I wasn’t trying to emasculate him. For what it’s worth, Sean didn’t like him either, but what exactly was I supposed to do, let the man escape?”

Jim snorted derisively. “What a jerk! A tenth of a mile! Don’t you guys have fitness requirements for the job?” He didn’t pause to allow her a chance to respond. “And you get on to us for calling him Frodo! You showed him up and he couldn’t handle it.” Jim beamed with pride at Trixie. “He’s just lucky you got your man!”

Trixie giggled. “I got his man anyway! It never even really started before it was over. It’s just as well; it doesn’t pay to get involved with someone at the Bureau, but what about you? What’s up with Sondra?” As always, Trixie managed to drag out the two syllables of her name to where it was more like four syllables. Sondra always became “Saaauunnndrah” with Trixie.

Jim shook his head. “She moved back to California.”

“Permanently?” Trixie asked.

“Yeah, I think so. And before you say anything else, she was just a friend. I was never interested in her in that way, even if she did like hiking, boating, and the great outdoors.”

“Why not?” Trixie was surprised. She’d expected Jim had found his life’s mate with the tall, elegant brunette who gave up a career as a model to teach school.

Jim took a deep breath. “There was no spark.”

“Spark? What do you mean?” Trixie frowned.

Jim leaned closer. “Spark?” he repeated. He hesitated as he recalled the prickling from earlier, when Trixie had tugged on his arm. He’d never felt that particular sensation before when Trixie touched him. “You know, we had more passion for sports than we did for each other.”

Trixie felt her breath hitch as Jim leaned even closer.

“You know, kissing Sondra was like kissing a Wookie.”

“What … what do you mean?” Trixie stammered. Jim’s face was so close to her she couldn’t focus.

“Nothing I’d want to ever do again,” he replied.

And then he kissed her.

 

 

 

 

Honey quietly eased the door shut before turning around to observe who might have witnessed her action. There was no way she was going to let anyone into the kitchen through that door. Certainly at one time, several of the Bob-Whites had been paired up. She’d crushed madly on Brian back in the day, while Mart had been wild about Diana. But different colleges, different needs, and growing up had changed them all. Except those two, she mused. They belong together. Her eyes lit upon Dan. He was practically engaged to his own girlfriend and she knew he’d help. She finally managed to catch his eye and by a quick emphatic head nod and a small smile, she managed to convey that she needed him to come to her.

“What’s up?” he asked, casually biting into a warm buttered roll as he arrived within a few feet. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Mrs. B certainly outdid herself this year.”

“All you guys think about is food,” Honey teased. “It’s just that you haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever.”

“Food’s not all we think about,” Dan replied with a false innocence. “Should I elaborate on some of the other things we think about?”

Honey punched him as her hazel eyes glared at him mockingly. “Stop it right there, Dan Mangan. I need your help.”

“Natch. Whatcha need?” he asked laconically.

“Just push that door a tiny crack and peek at the table,” Honey whispered. “Tell me what you see.”

Dan moved to one side and peeked through the smallest opening in the swinging door he could make.

“Whoooooo, buddy,” he whistled softly after allowing the door to close completely. “It’s about time!”

Honey grinned. “We need to keep them from being interrupted.”

“Dream on,” Dan answered. “It won’t be long before they’re both missed. Heck, Jim hasn’t even been here, what?” He paused, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and glanced at the time displayed. “Not even an hour.” He looked back at the kitchen door and laughed. “Jim didn’t waste much time this trip. Wonder what finally lit a fire under him?”

Honey couldn’t help but join in the laughter. The two of them made enough noise to catch the attention of Diana Lynch who meandered over.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” she asked. “Bob-Whites stick together.”

“Some of us stick together closer than others,” Honey giggled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Di asked.

Dan nodded over one shoulder towards the kitchen door. “Quiet now. Just peek in there, towards the table.” He moved to one side to allow Diana free access to the door. Unfortunately, for the three of them, Mart had noticed the goings-on and while Diana’s discreet peeking distracted Honey and Dan, he joined the group, unaware of the need for silence.

A hearty slap on the buttocks was all it took for Diana to squeal and jump, loud enough that both Jim and Trixie jumped apart with a guilty start as they looked towards the swinging door.

Diana was halfway through the door but glaring over her shoulder at her first boyfriend. “Mart Belden! I swear before everyone here, if you ever dare to smack me like that again, I’ll … I’ll …”

Trixie jumped up and quickly moved to the sink, suddenly intent on filling the sink with hot, soapy water. Jim just as quickly turned his attention back to the plate of food in front of him.

“Oh, come on, Diana, you never used to mind a little horseplay,” Mart said, his tone apologetic.

She rubbed her bottom, and attempted an evil glare, but failed miserably. Her heart was pounding like it hadn’t pounded in years. Not since …. She stopped. She was not going there. Not now. She was practically engaged to one of New York State’s most eligible bachelors. Winston Jackson Thornberry the fourth was a catch. Yeah, so why do you have to keep reminding yourself that he’s a catch, she wondered. It took some deep breaths, but Di managed to compose herself.

“Need any help, Trixie?” she asked brightly.

Trixie shook her head. “Everything’s under control here. Jim and I were just catching up.”

“Is that what they call it in Utah?” Dan wondered aloud.

Jim flushed a deep red, and Trixie shrugged without turning around from the sink. She was so intent on the task, anyone would have thought she’d undergone a conversion to a religious order for the sacred washing of dishes.

“We all need to catch up,” Honey spoke up, attempting to soothe the situation. “I’m going back to Boston on Sunday. What about the rest of you?”

“Liz is coming later today,” Dan offered. “Then we’ll head back to the city sometime Sunday as well. We have plans tomorrow, but Mr. Maypenny wants everyone to come for breakfast on Saturday. He’s taking a turn at making pancakes.” Dan laughed as he remembered their conversation the day he arrived in Sleepyside. “It almost sounded as if the old guy was hinting for me to buy him a waffle iron for Christmas!”

“Yes!” Mart pumped his fist in triumph. “Pancakes! I’ll bet he’ll serve some of that great venison sausage with them.”

“Pancakes sound yummy!” Diana agreed. “There’s nothing wrong with waffles, either. That’ll work for me. I’ve got to fly out Sunday night to Detroit,” Di explained. “I’ve accepted an assignment with the Detroit Institute of Arts to redesign their prints, photographs, and drawings collection. They want to start construction at the first of the year, so I’ll be in Detroit until Christmas.”

“I’m heading back early Sunday. That’s not going to be a lot of time for us to do something,” Honey worried. “Maybe we should just plan an afternoon ride and a movie night.”

Dan groaned. “We’re not watching one of those sappy holiday movies. If you do a movie night, do that tomorrow when Liz and I will be busy.”

“When’s Brian going to be here?” Jim interjected, attempting to head off what he knew would be Honey’s vehement defense of one of the many sappy Christmas movies she watched every holiday season. “Everyone was giving me grief for being late -- doesn’t the eldest of our gang get his share? Especially if time is of the essence as my full-blooded, adopted sister has pointed out.”

“Brian is here,” Mart informed him. “He’s asleep. He didn’t get any sleep for the last 36 hours, so he’s, quote, napping, unquote. I’m sure if he doesn’t make an appearance soon our maternal unit will take more draconian measures to assure his presence at these festivities.”

“I took the red-eye,” Jim offered a good-natured protest. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

Before anyone could answer, the kitchen door opened. “So this is where you’re all hiding!” Helen Belden smiled as she pretended to scold the assembled Bob-Whites. “I know you want to talk and catch up, but there will be plenty of time for that when the open house is over. Right now, your friends and neighbors, as well as your family, would like to visit with you.” She sat the pie plate she was carrying on the counter and motioned them all towards the door with her now-empty hands. “Go on! You can talk out there where others can see you.” She looked at Jim’s empty plate. “Did you get any of the eggnog pie, Jim? I just noticed it was all gone.”

Jim’s eyes darted toward Trixie, who was standing behind her mother grinning wildly.

“No ma’am. I didn’t have any pie,” Jim answered truthfully.

“That’s just as well,” Helen replied. “That pie was terrible. I hope none of you had to choke it down.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a triple-layer pumpkin pie. “This one is excellent. Try not to miss any of it.” She crossed to the door, turning to look at them before pushing through the swinging door. “All of you, out there. Move along.”

“Are you really leaving Sunday morning?” Trixie asked Honey as they made their way towards the door.

“Yes, I had to make this one quick to get the two weeks I wanted at Christmas,” she answered. “What about you?”

Trixie sighed. She had planned on some major one-on-one time with her best friend. There were things she just didn’t want to put in an email or talk about on the phone. She wanted to see Honey when she talked to her about their future. “I guess I’m the only one here until after New Year’s. I had leave to use or lose.”

Honey turned her hazel eyes on innocently on Trixie, unsure if she should tell her that Jim didn’t have any plans to leave Sleepyside either. In the end, she opted for silence. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty to keep you busy. Besides, I’ll be back in three weeks.”

 

 

 

 

“Something mysterious is going on!” Trixie commented as she slid the saddle onto Susie. Mart groaned loudly. “Not the ‘M’ word! Please, not the ‘M’ word. Can’t we all get together one time without there being something that starts with the letter ‘M’ going on around here?”

Trixie glared at her almost-twin, and Diana just managed to stifle a giggle.

Honey, always tactful, quickly interjected herself into the discussion. “What’s so mysterious, Trixie? I haven’t seen anything strange.”

“First, Dan is acting strange. He left at five last night to pick Liz up at the train station but swore it would be too late for her to stop by our house and visit. He tried to pretend that he’d be spending the rest of Thanksgiving with Regan and Mr. Maypenny, but they were both at our house until well after seven.”

“Maybe he just wanted some time alone with his girlfriend,” Diana offered. “They don’t get to see each other every day. Dan’s working upstate, and Liz is in the city.”

“They see each other every weekend,” Trixie grumbled. “That’s more than I get to see Liz. And besides, she was my friend first!”

“Yeah, well, Jim was your friend first, but that doesn’t keep him from being my best friend, does it?” Brian spoke mildly from the doorway of the Wheeler Stables. He was completely unaware of the impact of this innocent comment on this particular group, all of whom were aware that Brian’s best friend had kissed his sister only the evening before.

“What else is mysterious?” Honey asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Eggnog!”

“Eggnog?” Diana frowned. “You can’t be serious!”

“But I am serious!” Trixie nodded her head, setting off a riotous bouncing of curls. “Everywhere I go around Sleepyside these days, there is something eggnog related.”

“Did you just say eggnog?” Jim asked. He was less than a minute behind Brian but it was enough to miss the awkward moment Brian had unconsciously created.

“Yes, eggnog pie, eggnog cake, eggnog cookies, eggnog pudding -- you name it, eggnog is everywhere!”

“You mentioned something like that last night,” he recalled. “Hey, that pie last night. The second one your Moms pulled out of the refrigerator. It was a triple layer pumpkin, but one of the layers was definitely eggnog.”

A tall black horse seemed to sense Jim’s presence in the stable, or else he’d recognized his voice. Jupiter began to paw and snort, tossing his head towards Jim. Jim quickly crossed to his favorite mount, and pulled a carrot out of his pocket, as he crooned at the large horse and stroked its neck.

“See what I mean!” Trixie cried triumphantly. “Eggnog is everywhere! And since when does Moms make eggnog pie? On Monday night, she had this huge, beautiful cake for dessert. It looked like one of her pound cakes, but it was eggnog. It was terrible!”

“Your moms made a terrible cake?” Diana gasped. “That’s … that’s … “”

Trixie smiled smugly. “Exactly. It’s mysterious. And that first pie, the plain eggnog custard, was disgusting. Not even Rascal would eat it.”

“How is the new dog?” Jim asked. “I never saw him last night.”

“Rascal is working out pretty good. I never thought my dad would get a new dog, once Reddy was gone, but I guess after he rescued Rascal, there was a new bond.”

“Even though Rascal is a different breed, he’s just like Reddy,” Mart said. “He’ll eat almost anything!”

“Except eggnog pie,” Brian chuckled.

“Are you guys going to ride this morning, or just talk?” Regan demanded, as he entered the stable area. “I thought we were going to ride, not create some mystery out of the pie the dog wouldn’t eat!”

 

 

 

“I smell sausage!” Mart was almost giddy with excitement as the three Beldens approached Mr. Maypenny’s cabin. “I’ll bet those pancakes are going to be delicious.”

“Dan Mangan just better get out of my way,” Trixie grumbled. “I still haven’t seen Liz and we have tons to catch up on. I’m hoping she’ll have time to help me figure out what’s going on with all the eggnog around here.”

“Methinks someone stayed up too late giggling with the other girls,” Brian observed. “Come on, Trix. It’s not like you to be grumpy first thing in the morning.”

“Did you taste that coffee Moms made?” Trixie demanded.

Mart and Brian exchanged puzzled looks. They had both had a cup while waiting on Trixie, but had elected to wait for Mr. Maypenny’s strong brew instead of more of their mother’s flavored coffee.

“Eggnog! It was eggnog flavored!”

Mart burst out laughing. “That was the cream, you big silly! Brian and I both had the coffee and it was fine. Hazelnut or something. You know how Moms has started using all those flavored coffees since we all left home.”

“It wasn’t the cream!” Trixie glared. “It was the coffee. She even asked me about it. She made it herself! You two were outside taking care of the trash and stuff. Besides, since when do either of you drink flavored coffee?”

Brian and Mart exchanged puzzled looks. “Maybe you’re right, Trix,” Brian spoke. “But it is the holiday season, and people associate eggnog with the holidays. Maybe you’re just looking for a mystery.”

Trixie sniffed and tossed her head. She knew she was right about the eggnog, but there was no point in pursuing it now that they were at the cabin. Once inside, Trixie forgot all about informing her former college roommate of her suspicions regarding eggnog. The mystery of the missing friend was solved almost immediately when Liz and Dan announced their engagement to the group.

The Bob-Whites excitement led to a rising buzz of chatter as the ring was admired by the females and the males teased Dan in the typical ritual that always followed one of their kind making a public commitment. Mr. Maypenny beamed proudly at the couple, almost as if he were the father of the soon-to-be groom, and not even Mart complained about the delay in breakfast while the details were discussed and debated.

Once Mr. Maypenny realized he needed to heat the griddle and moved to start breakfast preparations, the large group began to break into smaller ones. Diana and Honey had cornered Liz about wedding plans, causing Trixie to seek refuge from the talk. She plopped down on the sofa next to Jim and smiled. “Isn’t that great? The first Bob-White wedding!”

“Aren’t you forgetting about Di?” Jim reminded her gently.

Trixie wrinkled her nose and gave a guilty flush. She lowered her voice. “That was a slip, wasn’t it? Speaking of Winnie the Whiner, where is he this weekend?”

“I figured she would’ve told you and Honey last night,” Jim admitted. “She hasn’t even mentioned him.”

“Well, she’s still wearing the Harry Winston,” Trixie replied thoughtfully. “But I have to admit, I sure wish she picked someone a little less ….” She waved her hand in the air struggling to come up with a semi-tactful word.

“Pompous?” Jim grinned

“Exactly!” She leaned back and smiled.

“Have you managed to learn anything else about your eggnog mystery?” Jim teased

“Not you, too!” Trixie groaned. “I’m telling you, it’s for real.” She looked around to check the location of her brothers, and was relieved to find they were both out of earshot. “I had eggnog flavored coffee this morning.”

Jim guffawed. “You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!” Trixie insisted. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to convince you, that there is something going on around this town with eggnog.”

At that point, Mr. Maypenny announced that everyone should find a seat around the makeshift table he had set up. “I hope everyone is hungry. This is an old family recipe for pancakes that I changed up a little bit.”

The crowd moved quickly, the excitement and early hour combining to whet their appetites for a delicious pancake breakfast. The fullness of the Thanksgiving feast a couple of days earlier was long gone, and they all were ready for hot pancakes when Mr. Maypenny placed the steaming platter on the table.

It didn’t take long for the realization to sink in. Trixie stared in horror at the healthy stack on her plate after she swallowed the first bite. She looked across the table at Mart as he spoke up.

“Um, will you pass the plate of sausage, Dan?” Mart croaked.

The same look she was trying to hide was on Mart’s face. She felt a nudge from the right and looked at Jim who had sat next to her.

“You’ve convinced me,” he murmured. “I never imagined we’d be eating eggnog pancakes.”

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately for Trixie, there was no time on Saturday to investigate the explosion of eggnog-related foods. The Bob-Whites, sans Dan and Liz, met at Wimpy’s on Saturday evening for dinner, where none of them were surprised to find eggnog shakes were offered on the menu.

Trixie, upon seeing the sign advertising the festive treat, immediately approached the counter and pointedly asked what was up with the latest addition to the menu.

“Dunno,” the pierced teenage girl replied with a shrug. “Mike sets the menu and he won’t be back from visiting relatives until next week. You’ll have to ask him.”

Frustrated with the lack of information she flounced back to where the other four Bob-Whites had commandeered a large booth. Brian had returned to the city for his evening shift at Beth Israel hospital.

“Any luck?” Honey queried.

Trixie shook her head. “Mike won’t be back until next week.”

“Did you ask your Mom?”

“I couldn’t,” Trixie said with a sigh. “She and Dad decided to drive Bobby back to Syracuse early this morning. Dad’s going to take her to a couple of bed and breakfasts on the way back and let her sample the different menus they offer.”

“Are they looking for ones that specialize in eggnog waffles?” Jim joked.

Trixie and the group laughed. Jim’s small joke managed to relieve the tension that was threatening their enjoyment of the evening at Wimpy’s. “You’re right, Jim. Eggnog is Sleepyside’s flavor of the month, but there really can’t be very much of a mystery about it, right?”

“Right,” Di agreed. “What’s mysterious about eggnog? Mummy’s eggnog pudding was pretty good. It’s not criminal.”

“Says you!” Mart protested. “Don’t forget, I had one of those pieces of Moms’ pie that was so terrible and it was all I could do to choke down the first stack of pancakes Mr. Maypenny made. The second was pure sacrifice on behalf of the rest of you.”

Diana smiled and patted his hand. “We appreciate you taking one for the team, Mart. I promise we do. What on earth do you suppose made Mr. Maypenny want to make eggnog pancakes?”

“Liz said she’d ask him at the first opportunity,” Honey reminded them. “Now is anyone planning to order an eggnog shake?” The hazel eyes twinkled as everyone smiled.

“Nothing but strawberry for me!” Trixie grinned and opened up her menu. “At least I’ve got one up on the rest of you.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Mart asked.

“I’m not leaving tomorrow,” she answered smugly. “I’ll have some time to investigate the great eggnog mystery of 2010.”

“If you need any help --” Honey smiled as she noticed her full-blooded adopted brother grab a menu himself. “Jim’s not leaving tomorrow either.”

 

 

 

 

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Trixie was eager to begin her pursuit of any and all things related to eggnog. Sunday had left no time for investigations. Between taking Honey and Mart to the train station, helping with laundry and making plans for Christmas, Trixie was forced to employ some of the patience quotient she despised using. But now the day was open, and she had no obligations to anyone. She scrounged through her mother’s cabinet in search of plain, black coffee, relieved when she found a can.

As the coffee maker sputtered and spewed, she stared at the machine, wondering why coffee took so long to brew. The ringing telephone startled her from her pondering.

“Trixie? It’s Diana!” The voice on the phone was breathless. “Listen, I’ve got to get to the art institute this morning, but I had to call and tell you. Just try and guess what my mother packed for me!”

“Eggnog coffee?” Trixie guessed, looking longingly at the coffee maker.

“No, but you’re heading in the right direction. A box of truffles. Eggnog flavored.”

“Oh, no!” Trixie breathed. “Are they totally disgusting?”

“Actually, they’re pretty good,” Di admitted. “I only ate one, but I just called mother and asked her where she got them. She made them.”

“Did you ask her why?”

“I did, and she just laughed and said that sometimes you have to try something new.”

“Oh, Diana, is that all you could get out of her?” Trixie asked in dismay.

“Yes. Maybe if we hadn’t been on the phone I could’ve gotten more. Mummy can’t keep a secret very well, and she was clearly hiding something. She kept asking me if I liked the truffles.”

“Maybe she’ll tell me if I go see her,” Trixie suggested.

“Not this week,” Di answered. “She’s going to the city for her annual holiday shopping trip. She’ll be gone all week. You know how Mummy is; she likes to be done with her shopping early.”

“I’m beginning to think they planned this mystery,” Trixie grumbled. “Thanks for letting me know, Di.”

“At least you’ve got Jim there to help,” Diana giggled. Before Trixie could reply, Diana ended the call. “I’ve gotta dash! Later, Trix!”

Trixie groaned and hung the phone up. The coffee finally sputtered to let her know it was finished and she gratefully poured a cup of the fragrant brew, sighing as the caffeine hit her system. The phone interrupted her morning fix on her third sip.

“Crabapple Farm,” she said, recognizing the Manor House number on the phone’s Caller ID display.

“Did you break the case overnight or are we going sleuthing this morning?” Jim asked.

“Not last night, but I do have another clue,” Trixie laughed. She relayed her conversation with Diana.

“Is there anything you can’t use with eggnog?” Jim wondered.

“It sure doesn’t sound like it. Last night there was a commercial on television for the local gift shop, for eggnog scented candles,” Trixie told him. “Honestly, I’m thinking of getting one for all the Bob-Whites for Christmas.”

Jim laughed. “I’m gonna hold out for eggnog bath salts, myself,” he teased. “But why don’t we go downtown and poke around this morning? Who knows what we might find?”

“Sounds good to me,” Trixie replied. “We might as well start somewhere.”

After agreeing on the time, Trixie finished her coffee before heading upstairs. She was ready when Jim pulled into the driveway and ran out to meet him, excited at the prospect of solving the mystery.

Settling herself in the seat of Jim’s dark green Jeep, she asked him the question that had been bothering her since her conversation with Diana. “You don’t think our families conspired to plant this mystery, do you?” she asked.

Jim gave the question serious thought, before answering. “No, I don’t. Not that they probably don’t know the answer, but they probably would get a kick out of us wondering what the deal is.”

Trixie smiled and leaned back. “What do you say we start at the gift shop?”

The doorbell tinkled, signaling their arrival to the ladies working in the Lantern Gift Shop and Tearoom in downtown Sleepyside. After declining the usual offers of assistance, Trixie and Jim browsed the aisles, and quickly located the eggnog-scented candles. Trixie picked one up and approached the counter.

“Do you have any other eggnog scented items?” she asked innocently. “My mom is crazy about this scent.”

“Yes, or course. Did you see the cut bar soaps in the back? There are also bath and shower gels, shampoo and bubble bath.”

Trixie managed to choke back a laugh, knowing that she would buy the bubble bath for Jim as a gag gift. After being shown the products, she and Jim conferred and agreed that each of the Bob-Whites, plus Liz, would receive one of them for Christmas. They loaded their basket and proceeded to checkout.

“There certainly seems to be a plethora of eggnog related items available this holiday season,” Jim attempted to engage the clerk in seemingly casual conversation.

“Yes, we were certainly lucky to locate these for the shop, especially since we didn’t have a lot of notice.”

“Notice?” Trixie asked. “What do you mean, notice?”

“The contest being sponsored by The Sleepyside Sun.” She wrapped the candles carefully in paper as she bagged up their items. “For the most creative use of eggnog. There’s a merchant category, and individual categories as well. Most of those will probably be recipes. They have some nice prizes. We’ve donated a gift basket ourselves for one of the individual prizes.”

Trixie and Jim managed to contain their giggles until they were outside. As soon as the door closed behind them, they both collapsed in a fit of laughter on one of the brightly painted benches provided and maintained by the Sleepyside Chamber of Commerce.

“Can you believe it?” Trixie gasped. “It’s a contest!”

“I guess your Mom and Mr. Maypenny are going for the food category.”

“Yep, so is Mrs. Lynch,” Trixie added. “Oh, gosh, I hope Moms doesn’t enter that first pie recipe.”

“She said herself it was terrible,” Jim reminded her. “Besides, we never found out if she made it or not. What do you say we head over to The Sun? It could be we might want to enter this contest.”

The two were still amused as they pushed their way through the double-glass doors of the main office of The Sleepyside Sun. The festive eggnog decorations that adorned the glass were enough to set off yet another round of laughter between them. It was enough to give Jim pause as he looked more closely at the petite girl who accompanied him on this particular adventure. His eyes brightened in approval at the picture she made in her great red car coat and scarlet scarf. Even her attire seemed in keeping with the festive season. Her eyes were as clear blue as a summer sky, and her cheeks flushed pink with gaiety. He felt his breath hitch, much like it had on Thanksgiving when she’d warned him about the pie. The pie that started this adventure, he reminded himself. She’ll still go anywhere any time and not hold back, as so many girls do, he thought, and then stopped right in the lobby of the Sun. Sondra had been the same way -- full of spirit and ready to go. But he’d never felt anything like this for Sondra and not for a lack of trying either.

“Jim?” The questioning voice brought him back to the present. He stared silently at Trixie long enough that she squirmed and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he answered. “Nothing is wrong. I’ll tell you later.”

Trixie nodded and the two of them approached the counter.

“We’re looking for some information on the contest that the Sun is sponsoring,” Trixie said. “The eggnog competition.”

“Merchant, individual, or group?” the bored receptionist asked.

“Could we just get the information on all three?” Trixie replied.

The lady peered at them more closely over her eyeglasses and silently picked up flyers from three different stacks and handed them to Trixie. “The deadline is the same, the fifteenth.” With an air of boredom, she turned to answer the ringing telephone.

Trixie handed one of the flyers to Jim and turned to leave.

“Let’s review them over lunch?” Jim suggested. She nodded in agreement.

 

 

 

 

The speedy resolution of the case of the mysterious eggnog deflated Jim and Trixie. “It was almost more fun when we didn’t know what was going on,” Trixie stated after their lunch at Manor House. Jim had to agree. Now he was left without an excuse to explore the feelings Trixie had aroused in him. He wished she’d said something, anything, after that kiss in the Crabapple Farm kitchen. When she left the Manor House with the excuse of needing to wrap presents, he kicked himself for not attempting another kiss. His hesitation in speaking up, came back to haunt him when the two of them parted without making further plans.

By Wednesday, Trixie’s parents returned and they regaled her with their stories of the various bed and breakfasts in which they had stayed during their brief getaway. When Helen raved about the food for the fourth or fifth time, Trixie could stand no more.

“Did you manage to find any good eggnog recipes?” she asked sweetly. “You know the deadline for that contest is coming up.”

Helen smiled. “That didn’t take you long to figure out.”

Trixie shook her head. “Jim and I solved it before lunch on Monday,” she admitted. “I think we both wished it could’ve gone on a bit longer.”

“What else have you and Jim been up too?” Helen asked innocently.

“Uh, nothing,” Trixie stammered. “I figured he’d gone back to Utah already.”

Helen shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Hasn’t he called since Monday?”

Trixie shook her head and then made an excuse to leave the room, leaving Helen wondering what was going on with her only daughter.

She didn’t wonder long. Things began to come together the next afternoon at the Sleepyside Women’s Club meeting.

“Absolutely delightful, dear!” Lacey Davenport simpered as she grasped the hand of Grace Wheeler. “Thank you so much for including me in this month’s meeting. The Sleepyside Sun is always looking for material, and we’re very excited to be able to write up the activities of the Sleepyside Women’s Club. I do hope you’ll consider entering the group portion of this year’s Christmas contest.” Lacey’s voice lowered. “We had no idea that this year’s theme of eggnog would be so popular.”

Grace tittered. “My goodness! However did you manage to top last year’s theme? What was it again?”

“Fruitcake,” Helen interjected. “Last year the theme was fruitcake.”

“Suzy Grossman won. Don’t you remember her award winning fruitcake Jell-O recipe?” Carol Lynch piped up.

Lacey Davenport, the society editor of the Sleepyside Sun, beamed. Somehow, she remained oblivious that the three women were less than impressed with her annual holiday recipe contest. “I’ve only been working on it since July. And this year’s top prize is simply divine.” Lacey glanced at her watch and started. “Ta-ta, my dears. I simply must dash. Deadlines you know. But don’t forget about the deadline for the contest. You know we must follow all those pesky little rules.”

Grace smiled the brightest smile she could manage and watched until the door shut behind the insufferable journalist. “Oh! I’d like to show her. I might just crack some eggs on her noggin!”

Carol Lynch laughed. “You’re slipping, Grace. Even I could tell you were egging her on.”

Helen Belden almost choked on her tea. “Don’t you mean eggnogging her on, Carol?” The eyes twinkled mischievously. The three friends exchanged looks and then dissolved into helpless giggles.

“Bless her heart,” Carol finally managed. “She is simply too.”

“Too much?”

“Too everything!” Carol insisted. “Seriously, she’s going to give the award to one of her friends, trust me she will.”

Helen laughed. “At least eggnog isn’t my specialty. It gives me a good excuse to pass on this year’s contest. That first pie I attempted was terrible. Although, from what my kids didn’t say, I think Mr. Maypenny’s eggnog pancakes might have been worse. I asked Trixie this morning if we should have them on Saturday and she assured me she prefers my regular pancakes.”

Grace shook her head. “That’s a shame, because yours is the only fruitcake I’ve ever seen Matthew Donald Wheeler ask for a second helping of. Last year’s contest was a joke. Even Celia said the winning recipe was disgusting.”

“There really isn’t any point in entering the contest,” Carol pointed out. “Helen’s right. One of her friends will win, it doesn’t matter how good a recipe is.”

“Maybe we should pool all our recipes,” Helen mused. “We could enter as a group, the Women’s Club. We could submit for the group prize with a recipe cookbook that features recipes for eggnog items.”

“You know, that actually might work,” Carol agreed. “Especially if we get her friends to contribute their recipes to the cookbook.”

Grace straightened. “That’s brilliant, because, if I remember the rules, that would keep them from entering their recipe in the individual contest, or at least being eligible to win.”

“Do you think we can pull it together before the deadline?” Carol asked. “We don’t have much time.”

Helen and Grace spoke at the same time.

“Trixie will help us.”

“Jim’s home, he’ll help us.”

Carol smiled. “Excellent! Now, both of those two are home without any other Bob-Whites, huh?” She turned her head to one side as she contemplated the turn of events. “Have they by any chance … well … are they doing anything together?”

Helen sighed. “Apparently not. I was certain there was something going on between them on Thanksgiving. Peter specifically told me to leave it alone, but I can’t help but wonder. I think perhaps it’s me more than Trixie. I’d like Jim for a son-in-law.”

Grace nodded. “There’s no one I’d rather see Jim with than Trixie. I was so sure he was going to get sucked in by that horrid Sooondra.” She unconsciously mimicked Trixie’s pronunciation of the woman’s name.

“They’re going to have to work together if we’re going to get this cookbook entered in time,” Helen pointed out. “Do you think we could meddle just a little bit, or would they be on to us?”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Carol interjected. “Diana can be so devious. Do you know that I caught her showing Anna and Alice how to make cupcakes with laxatives in them? Seriously, I worry about that girl sometimes.”

“We’re not much better,” Grace pointed out. “Here we are, fifty-plus years old, and all I want to do is plot ways to show up some silly society page writer for a two-bit newspaper. My mother would scold me dreadfully for even worrying over what somebody like Lacey Davenport thought of me and my lack of cooking ability.” Grace sighed.

Helen Belden shook her head and wondered how Madeleine Grace Wheeler could manage to make an exasperated sigh sound elegant. She perked up as Grace continued.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t right. Cooking is not my thing, even if I do have an exceptional eggnog recipe. It was my grandmother’s.”

“Oh! Excellent!” Helen said clapping her hands. “You’ve given me a great idea.”

“What’s that?” Carol inquired leaning forward.

Grace perked up as well. “If it’s anything that will make Jim come to his senses over Trixie, just count me in. Now what exactly is your plan?”

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking … ”

 

 

 

 

“Did you ever imagine that they’d be working on a cookbook?” Trixie complained good-naturedly as she sat with Jim in the library at Manor House. It remained her favorite room at the lovely mansion.

“Did you ever imagine that my mother would volunteer to help test every recipe in the cookbook?” Jim looked at the door of the library as if seeing an alien standing there would be more likely than finding his mother in the kitchen.

“Did you ever imagine that they’d make us taste test for them?” Trixie complained. “At least Moms told me that the awful pie she made is not going in the recipe book. We don’t have to worry about trying that.”

“Yeah, well let’s hope they leave Mr. Maypenny’s pancakes out of it as well,” Jim replied. “Did you get the table of contents and index set up?”

“Yep, all we have to do is type the recipes in. The outline of the thing is done.” Trixie stared at the door. “How long do you think it’s going to take them to start bringing us things to taste?”

“They already brought us eggnog.” Jim looked in his mug and then in Trixie’s, noting it was empty as well.

“Yes, and it was pretty good, Trixie admitted. “Should we go to the kitchen and check on them?”

Before Jim could answer, Helen and Grace came into the study with a tray. “Here’s some more eggnog, and we have the recipe for it. Also, Mrs. Vanderpoel’s cookies.”

Jim deftly took the tray and exchanged the full mugs of eggnog for the empty ones, while Trixie moved the plate of cookies onto the desk. “The eggnog is delicious,” she smiled at the two mothers. “Whose recipe is that?”

“Oh, no, we’re not telling until you tell us if it can go in,” Grace wagged a finger and smiled as she answered. “Does it pass?”

“Yes!” They both chorused together. They turned and smiled as their mugs clicked together as if a toast had been made and took another sip. “It’s very good,” Trixie added as she wiped her mouth. She picked up the card. “Is this the recipe?”

“Yes, dear, and believe it or not, that’s an old Hart family recipe.” Grace clapped her hands together in delight. “When you’re ready, you can go ahead and add it to the cookbook. We’ve also left you Mrs. Vanderpoel’s cookie recipe, since you’ve already had those and mentioned they were good. We’ll be back with more before long.”

The two women turned to leave, and then Helen turned around. “We have more than one traditional eggnog recipe for the book, so drink up. There will be plenty of eggnog for the afternoon!”

Trixie frowned as the women left. “They have no idea how many calories eggnog has in it,” she muttered. “I’m going to have to run extra miles or this will go straight to my butt.”

“Really?” Jim’s eyebrows wagged mischievously. “Do you want to show me where exactly?” He pretended to try and get a glimpse of Trixie’s backside.

She giggled and swatted his hand. “On to the task at hand, James,” she ordered, pointing at the computer. “We have a cookbook to finish.”

For the next hour, the two of them worked steadily. After the first twenty minutes, they began to find more to laugh about while compiling the cookbook than was truly funny. The food and recipes came steadily into the room, each time accompanied by a fresh mug of eggnog. After the fourth mug, Trixie stared dismally at the empty mug and gave a small hiccup. “I don’t think I need any more eggnog,” she mumbled. “Otherwise I’m never going to make it home.”

“Does your flight leave today?” Jim asked, looking up and blinking. He wondered if it was his imagination, but the computer screen was beginning to look fuzzy.

“My flight?” Trixie asked, confused. “I don’t have a flight to get home; I can walk to Crabapple Farm.”

“Home to D.C.” Jim clarified. “I was surprised when mother told me that you hadn’t gone back yet. I didn’t realize you had that much extra time in Sleepyside.”

“I’m not going back to DC until after the first of the year,” Trixie explained. “If it wasn’t for that stupid contest deadline, I’d have between now and New Year’s to get this recipe book finished.”

“Wait!” Jim reached across the desk and grabbed her hand. “Did you say that you’re home until Christmas?”

“Yes …. I …. Well, yes.” Trixie answered slowly, staring down at Jim’s hand on her arm. “Why?”

“Because I’m home until Christmas as well.” He knew he was grinning from ear to ear, but with the next three weeks alone with Trixie in Sleepyside -- without the rest of the Bob-Whites -- he suddenly knew exactly how to handle the feelings she had aroused in him.

“How did you manage to get out of school so early?” she managed, wondering why Jim didn’t move his hand.

“I didn’t get a summer break,” he reminded her. “Besides, I quit.”

Trixie was stunned. “You what?”

“I quit my job,” he repeated with a shrug. “The administration and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on a couple of issues related to the sports program and the boys, and it just wasn’t worth it anymore. I want my own school with my own policies about sports programs and everything else.” He gave Trixie a guilty grin. “Don’t look so surprised. You know it’s time. There’s not much more I can learn working for someone else. It’s time to work for myself.” He paused at her shock. “Dad knows,” he added. “He’s going to help me get started with an architect before Christmas.”

“But where…” Trixie mumbled. “Where are you going to build your school?”

“Not far from here,” Jim replied. “For years I thought about using the land my great-uncle left me, but believe it or not, it’s not enough acreage for the kind of school that I’d like to run. Dad’s been watching for a while. He finally found an old boys camp and horse ranch for sale. It’s perfect. It already has a barn and a stable on the property.”

“Wow!” Trixie leaned back in her seat as she took in the big revelation. “Why didn’t you tell everyone?”

Jim shrugged. “Dan and Liz had bigger news for us, don’t you think? Christmas will be soon enough to share.”

“But Jim … “

He held up a hand and stopped her. “Hey, you didn’t explain how you managed to get such a long vacation.”

Trixie was quiet as she battled inwardly with exactly how much to tell Jim. She hadn’t even told Honey what had transpired before Thanksgiving. She took a deep breath. “I quit, too,” she blurted. It felt good to get it out. “The agency, it was getting more and more routine. The same kind of cases and I didn’t feel like I was learning anything.”

“Wow, what are you going to do?” Jim asked.

Trixie shrugged and bit her lip. “I … to tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I’d like to start the detective agency with Honey, the one we always talked about, but she may not be ready.”

“Do you mean to tell me, Trixie Belden, that you quit your job and you didn’t tell Honey?” Jim was floored. “Why not?”

Trixie finally put her biggest fear into words. “What if she’s changed her mind?” she whispered.

“Then you’ll start your own detective agency,” Jim answered. “Or go to work for one of those big firms like Dad uses for Wheeler International. Once you learn the ropes on how to run things or what you’ll do different, start your own business.”

“But …” Trixie stopped. It was that simple, she realized. A smile broke across her face. She’d been worried over nothing. “You’re right, Jim. Just like always. I was making it something bigger in my mind and worrying over things that might not happen. How could I have been so silly?”

“It’s not hard.” Jim leaned back in his chair and decided to ask what he really needed to know. “You’re not leaving New York?”

“Nope, there’s nothing for me back in Washington,” she answered. “I already notified my landlord. I’m going to look for a place to stay in the city.”

“Nothing, or no one?” Jim asked, his voice quiet but serious.

“Both,” Trixie whispered. “What about you? What does Sondra think about you quitting?”

“It doesn’t matter what Sauuunnnndra thinks.” It was the first time that Jim had ever acknowledged Trixie’s pronunciation of the woman’s name. “What do you think about me and you working and living in the same part of the country for the first time since I left for college?”

“What do I think?” Trixie squeaked.

“What do you think?” Jim echoed. “Especially if us living and working in the same part of the country means that I do more of this.”

He bent his head, and unable to stop, kissed her thoroughly.

Trixie took only the smallest of steps back as the kiss finished. She wasn’t sure if she’d seen rockets streaking across the sky, a white knight riding off in the sunset, or simply a new galaxy of stars and moons. She was certain she wanted to find out. “It’s okay for you to do more of that, so long as I can do it, too.” She pulled his head toward her and kissed him back.

 

 

 

 

“So, he won the contest. He’s now the proud owner of a brand new waffle iron and he insists that the Bob-Whites come over for waffles on New Year’s Day. He’s promised no eggnog will be harmed in the making of any waffles!” Dan stood in the Manor House living room, regaling Honey with the tale of Mr. Maypenny winning the Sleepyside Sun’s eggnog contest..

“I can’t believe it,” Honey marveled. “Mother’s over the moon that their cookbook won the group prize. She actually submitted a recipe for the cookbook. An old family recipe for traditional eggnog.” Honey lowered her voice and looked around. “If you saw how much liquor goes into that recipe, you’d never serve it without a warning label!”

Dan and Liz shared a laugh with her. Liz looked around the room and smiled. “Anyway you cut it, Honey; your parents sure know how to throw a party.”

Dan put his arm around his fiancée as he raised a cup of eggnog toward the festivities. He gave a nod towards Trixie and Jim, who were out on the dance floor, almost oblivious to the rest of the crowd gathered for the Wheelers’ New Year’s Eve party. “Did you ever find out what happened with those two?”

Honey shook her head. She’d had an almost garbled phone call from Trixie a week after Thanksgiving explaining she’d quit her job. The two of them had agreed to discuss the timeline for opening the agency over the Christmas break. But Trixie hadn’t said a word about Jim.

“No, they’re both very closed-mouthed about it. Did you get anything out of Jim?”

Dan shook his head. “Couldn’t Diana get anything out of ‘em?”

Diana and Mart approached the pair in time to hear Dan’s last question.

“No, nothing. And do you want to know what’s worse? I think my mother knows!” Di wailed.

“The parental units know something,” Mart nodded in agreement with Di’s assessment. “But if it’s possible, they’re even more close mouthed than Jim and Trixie.”

“Brian couldn’t get it out of them?” Honey demanded.

“No,” Brian interjected from behind her, handing her a cup of eggnog. “Not even a hint. I even asked Moms again tonight and all she did was hand me a cup of eggnog.”

“How much eggnog have you had tonight?” Honey asked suspiciously.

“This is my first cup, why?” Brian asked.

Honey shook her head. “If you saw the recipe, you wouldn’t wonder. The stuff is definitely high octane!”

Jim glanced over and saw the Bob-Whites chattering amongst themselves. “They’re watching us,” Jim whispered in her ear.

“I know,” she said softly. “They’re talking about us, too. They don’t know what happened.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Jim pointed out. “We were just friends and then …”

“Yeah, something changed. You never kissed me that way before.” Trixie smiled as she recalled the kiss on Thanksgiving and then the one a week later at Manor House.

“Maybe,” Jim acknowledged. “But we agree, don’t we, on the mystery we’re not going to solve?”

“We agree,” Trixie smiled. “We’re not ever going to try and figure out who spiked the eggnog.”