AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey all! I have decided to go with a combination for a nickname. ShiningStarr recommended 'Ren' and Wishta recommended 'Rini' and I have concluded with 'Reni'. Although I think Alice may use .xlol's suggestion of 'May' just cause she's, you know, Alice. Can you guys please spread the word of this story and review, not just alert? Three reviews makes me feel sad…

DISCLAIMER: The other day I was sitting on top of the Opera House singing I Remember by Kate Cabrano in perfect tune while snow fell from the sky and froze the water of the Harbour. People then began to ice skate on the glistening, white-blue surface while worshipping me for writing the Twilight Saga. Then I woke up and cried because none of it could come true. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and any traits these characters possess that are similar to hers.

FRIEND QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Can we do something on these days?" "No." "Why not?" "Ah, it's Christmas Eve and Day, and you're out of the country." –Kayla and Me.

And I forgot to say in the previous chapter that although I will be dedicating each chapter to someone different, this entire story is dedicated to my three best friends; Chandy, Kayla, and Elissa. Their names will be sprinkled through the story, although it won't be so subtle now that you know.

This chapter is dedicated to ShiningStarr for being my first reviewer and writing a very enjoyable and helpful reviewer.

CHAPTER ONE:I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

13TH December 2009

"So Bella; how is New York?"

I turned too looked at Alice sitting next to me. Everyone, every Cullen, Swan, Hale, and Whitlock was sitting at the long table enjoying the last of Rosalie's Pavlova. She'd decorated the top of the ballerina meringue with raspberries and shaved chocolate, remembering that to be my favourite sweet combination. I slowly chewed on a dark red berry as Alice looked at me expectantly for an answer.

"New York's great, a real change of scenery from L.A. You'd love it; there's so many little designers breaking out in tiny rental shops on the sidewalk." I smiled when I saw Alice's hazel eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. She was still the same, which I guess shouldn't have surprised as her e-mails had been as bubbly as ever. Clearly she still enjoyed hunting for unique pieces created by little known designers or ones that go by foreign names that no one had even heard of, let alone pronounce.

"Sure, but what's it like living in a big city?"

"You live in the city Alice; it's very similar. Only bigger…and a prominent lack of sleep and focus. The only real difference is the time zone and the wacked out reversal of the seasons." Alice chuckled and held little Tyler closer to her chest wear he was eating. She was still fairly covered so no one was seemed uncomfortable.

"You must be exhausted from traveling across time zones."

I turned my head so I could face Esme sitting down the far end of the table. How she had heard our conversation I had no idea. She was still the same as ever, though her caramel curls had been cropped into a very ladylike bob that suited her round face. Her warm, green eyes, much like her son's, lit up with the ever present smile on her cupid's bow lips.

"No, we slept on the plane. Besides, I never completely adjusted to the American time zone; I was always more awake during the Australian day."

"But won't you miss a White Christmas?" I glanced at Rosalie sitting across from me and tilted my head to the side.

"Didn't I answer that question earlier today?" Renee told me upon my arrival that they had all watched the questions being thrown at me outside the airport when it was broadcasted online about ten minutes after I had driven away. This announcement had obviously caused a familiar blushed to rise in my cheeks, but I still laughed at the ridiculousness of it with everyone else.

"No. You were asked about how Mike Newton felt about you being in Australia during this jolly season. And besides, this is family not the paparazzi. You can't keep secrets from us," Rosalie winked one pale blue eye at me and brushed her golden hair away from her face.

"Screw Mike," I muttered under my breath. A sharp intake of breath was taken in to my left, which caused a sigh to escape my lips. It seemed a little pair of eyes had caught my expletive. Reaching into the bag that was now at my feet, I pulled a dollar coin out of my wallet and held up for Renesmee to see. "Sorry sweetie, mummy shouldn't have said that. Do you want to hold onto this and put it in the jar when we get home?" She just grinned up at me and nodded, meringue and cream smothered around her mouth. "

"Sugar honey ice-tea," I muttered as I reached for a napkin and wiped the gooey mess from around her mouth. She giggled and protested, but let me get the dessert off her face.

"So how old's Reni then?" I winced at Emmet's nickname for Renesmee, but she clapped her hands; she never been able to pronounce her full name, always calling herself 'Reni' or 'May'. I had stead fast called her 'Renesmee', 'Sweetie', or 'Honey'. Occasionally I relented and called her 'May'. But 'Reni'? Really? I frowned at Emmet before I spoke.

"She's seven on the twenty-first. Come one Emmet, you're an accountant! I've been away for eight years-the maths is simple!"

"Yeah, but you must have been pretty quick when you arrived in Hollywood."

I flinched at how crass it sounded. Rosalie smacked him over the back of the head and Renee chastised my cousin, who was still naïve about what he had just said. Emmet wasn't slow or lacking in intelligence, he was just totally oblivious to the awkwardness he tended to create in conversation.

"As I said before; scr-" I saw Renesmee looking at me hopefully, "forget Mike." Renesmee tapped the coin on the table, waiting for me (or someone else) to slip up.

"So how about Jacob Black then, huh Bella? He's a real looker." Both Emmet and I raised our eyebrows at Rosalie. "What?! He seems like a nice guy!"

"Which he's. A nice friend," I emphasized the word, hoping to get it through the romantic shroud that seemed to be covering a few people's brains at the table. "Besides, I don't think you would really appreciate meeting him; he's knows way too many blonde jokes."

"Still, couldn't hurt right?"

I stared blankly at Rosalie for another second before turning to Renee. I heard Rosalie huff quietly behind me. I blatantly attempted to change the subject.

"So, why isn't the Christmas Tree up yet, Mum? You've got all the other Chrissy decorations in place," I asked, eyeing the Christmas mugs and card on the cabinet behind her.

"Actually, we were waiting for you to get here to do it this year. We wanted you and Renesmee to help decorate it."

"Oh," was all I could manage. I was touched. "When do you want us?"

"Tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure." I smiled warmly at the mother I missed.

"Which reminds me; you have no Christmas decorations in you house…" Alice left off suggestively, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Everyone around the table laughed as they recognised the expression on Alice's face.

"Let the girl breath Alice," Jasper murmured to his wife. "She hasn't even been home a day yet and already you are planning on torturing her."

"Oh, don't worry about that Jasper; she's already filled up both mine and Renesmee's wardrobes," I assured him. He gave me a look that clearly read you really think that's going to stop her? I just shrugged.

"Sure Alice, but I'm bringing Renesmee and Rose has to endure it with me." Rosalie winked at me again, knowing full well that this kind of shopping wasn't going to be a pain. She was just as nutty about Christmas as I am, only she went for the more classic, fairytale Winter Wonderland scheme, where as I preferred and Aussie style Christmas.

"Actually Bella, Renee and I were wondering whether we could steal Renesmee for tomorrow? Maybe we could take her to the Aquarium and the Wild Life Park…" Phil was being cautious. Although I now loved him like a second father, I was not always open to the idea of him becoming my step-father. It was more the idea of any man being a part of the cozy life my mother and I had created, but eventually I warmed up to the idea, thanks to a large part of Rosalie becoming my step-sister. I had been the Maid-of-Honour twice.

"That's okay with me and Renesmee sure seems excited," I allowed after a glance at Renesmee's excited face.

"Been in hospital recently Bella?" Another ripple of laughter ran around the table at Carlisle's query. I smiled with the rest other them, thinking briefly back to the days when I could barely walk straight. Okay, slight exaggeration.

"No," I said proudly, "I haven't been to the emergency room for two years now."

"And what was that for?" Emmet sat up straighter, eager for any story that involved endangering clumsy me.

I blushed at the memory. "That information I shall not disclose," I claimed, pronouncing every word the way I would to a nosy reporter. I say his brown eyes zero in on Renesmee (or as he would have said, 'Reni') but before he could open his mouth I cut across him. "She doesn't know the story Emmet, so don't even try to get it out of her." He looked from me to her and back again.

"You'd tell me if you knew, wouldn't you Reni?" She just grinned up at her 'new' uncle.

The beginning strain of White Christmas came onto the stereo playing Christmas songs in the background. As conversation was directed away from me I thought back to last Christmas. We had just finished decorating the 'real' fir tree (something I never planned on doing again) and changing our answering machine to Renesmee and me wishing everyone a Merry Christmas after requesting for them to leave a message after. Renesmee wanted to go and meet 'Uncle Jake' in Central Park so they could go sledding, so I rugged her up in warm clothes and walked out of the building. She stopped at a sign on the side of a building that read of saving the dugongs. When she asked me what a dugong was I said they were the closest things people had been able to find to mermaids. Mermaids were her favourite fairytale creature; she was able to quote the entire Little Mermaid without pause. Given she did quote it incorrectly, but it didn't stop it from being cute. I promised her that if we ever went to Australia then I would take her to go see the dugongs. Then we trudged down the grey path toward the pure white snow the blanketed Central Park.

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas…just like the ones in New York…and in Snow Globes…and all I can do is dream about them because I'm in Australia. A wave of euphoria rushed through me at the thought of a snowless Christmas.

"What is a White Christmas in New York like, Bella?" I snapped my head up when he spoke and stared directly into his eyes. He had not spoken with warmth or affection, rather in a hard, challenging sort of tone. As though he was daring me to say that America was better than Australia and that I wished I had never come. I don't know how I read this from one look, one sentence, but I supposed eight years hadn't changed my ability of understanding him.

I noticed that everyone around the table had ceased conversation and had their eyes on me. Jasper was the only one that had experienced a White Christmas, being from the States and all. However, everyone else was always home, in Australia, for Christmas. They knew their places lay with their family, where as I was still trying to find my place.

"It's just like a fairytale, the perfect picture of a fantasyland. The atmosphere is so carefree and happy, filled with forgiveness and joy. Snow glitters on the ground in Central Park, sparkling due to the filtered light falling softly from the pale grey sky." I smiled gently, remember the clichéd images I had seen over the last few years. Icicles glisten crystal-clear from skeletal trees as carolers sing Silent Night to passer-byers. Children stumble in their skates as teenagers' whiz past them in a whir of freedom. Others huddle of mugs of hot chocolate on tables that spill onto the sidewalk from cozy cafes, while watching people walk down the path as they kicked the minimal snow that had not melted upon landing. And at night, the lights from the windows of people's apartments defy the brightness of street lamps to be seen on all their Christmas cheer. The giant Christmas Tree seems to hold a million different fairies, each golden bauble glimmering with the promises of wishes coming true. Then Christmas morning dawns, silver and clear, with hope and magic in the air. It's just as I thought it would be like before I experienced one; unreal, like dream, a fairytale that has been borrowed and in which we can only live in temporarily. But while it lasts…the white and silver everywhere…Santas on every corner…cinnamon and crisp snow on the air...it's enchanting."

Everyone was spellbound once I had finished talking. I could see all of them dreaming of their own White Christmases, adding their own personal touches. Renesmee smiled up at, blissfully unaware of the trance I had put our family under.

Suddenly the spell broke with Emmet's booming laughter.

"I see you can still spin crap into something worth listening to." Renesmee gasped as everyone laughed. She held out her hand expectantly. Emmet looked at me, confused, then back at Renesmee. "What's your hand out for Little Reni?"

"She's expecting a dollar." He looked at me, even more confused. "Every time someone swears they have to put money into the Swear Jar, which ends up going to some charity or other before Christmas. I don't want my daughter to grow up to have the mouth of a sailor." Everyone laughed even harder as they watched Emmet hand the money over into my daughter's waiting hands.

* * * * * *

"So when do you plan on going back to New York?" Rosalie asked, sipping her Chandy. She had decided since she was the only non-mummy of the three of us, it was her duty to drink alcohol. She had chosen her favourite; half beer, half lemonade, although she always asked for them to add a few sprigs of mint. I never understood why, and I never wanted to know.

"Shortly after Christmas, maybe after the New Year." I shrugged, "I'm not sure; everything's kin of slow at the moment so there's no rush back." I took a sip of my lemonade.

"What, you going to runaway again?" asked Alice while she slurped on her ice-chocolate. She always ordered an ice-chocolate. There was just something about them according to her.

I choked on the lemonade in my mouth.

"What makes you think I 'ran away' the first time?"

"Well, there was the small fact that the last time I saw you was at my wedding and you didn't say goodbye to your best friend. You also never told anyone you were leaving; only a measly note that I had to find at you house when I got back from my honeymoon. You left Edward hanging dry, and nine months later my find out from gossip columns that you're dating someone new and have had a baby with him! You hadn't even technically broken up with Edward, Bella! So excuse me for thinking that you ran away, but you did nothing that warrants defense for yourself."

I frowned at the wreath hanging on the door to the café we sat at. I deserved everything Alice had just thrown at me, and I knew it. Was there a way of telling her and Rosalie the truth without Edward finding out?

"Mike Newton is not the father, Alice, as you well know," I looked at her, feeling the sadness settling over my features. "What do you take me for? Some promiscuous little harlot? You know me better than that Alice! Do you really think I would have done that to him?" We both knew the him I was referring to. We stared at each other and I could see her weighing the sincerity of my words.

"Of course we don't believe that Mike is Reni's…May's…what are supposed to call her? Anyway, we believe you. But, you have to admit; the evidence is pretty good." Rosalie looked at me and I understood the look she was giving me. She wanted to prove myself not in the wrong. I dug in my bag and pulled out a photo Mike had given me long ago. It was crushed and crumpled but the four people in the picture were still recognizable.

"My daughter looks nothing like Victoria, nor would I want her to be any relation to Mike or his mother." Alice and Rosalie looked at the photo I had tossed on the table. In the photo Renesmee bore no resemblance to Mike or his mother, as the media had claimed. And thank the Lord for that!

"So who does she look like…" Rosalie frowned and I could see the clogs clinking together in that her mind trying to click everything together.

"Don't hurt your pretty little head, Rosalie," I said in a half-hearted attempt to divert this Nancy Drew moment to another less dangerous topic. She just waved my concerns away with her hand.

"She had your eyes and skin, and I noticed you have the same lips." Alice was muttering under her breath, speaking more to herself than me, also trying to work the baby mystery out. "Her nose is rather straight, not delicate like yours. And she has those unusual bronze curls-"

Just as she said that last sentence, her hazel eyes flew open and Rosalie shrieked an "OH MY GOD!" as the pieces fell into place. I looked at both of them with a pleading look on my face, begging them not to say anything.

"Edward's the father?!"

I nodded reluctantly at their shared conclusion and winced when the childish shrieking started again.

"Please, don't say anything," I begged, "I want to tell him myself."

And when do you plan on doing that, I asked myself as they promised. When do you plan on telling the love of your life the truth?

I loved writing Rosalie saying that Jacob was a 'looker'! Hilarious! What did you think? Can someone tell me a really, really, really good/original blonde jokes? Most of my funny (in my head) jokes fall flat and I have a really good idea for one! Help!

What's the reason for Bella's last trip to the hospital? I don't know so you'll have to tell me! I've given you the ingredients so you need to serve me up some soup!

Did you like her comments of about dreaming of a White Christmas? I just loved it when I came up with it. And please don't knock my description of a New York White Christmas around to much as I have never been to New York, at Christmas or any other time, nor I have I ever seen snow. Please spare me!

Oh, and here's a small plug for the current Twilight podcast I am listening to. Try out 'Twigasm' for size! I love it, but I have to warn you to only listen to it if you have an interest in smut/lemons!

A naïve q: what are flames? When someone totally disses a story?

SUGGESTION, SUGGESTION! IDEAS, IDEAS! HELP, HELP!

Now, press that review button and spread the word!

You know you love me,

Violet.