Chapter 10: Double Hockey Sticks

"Oh, double hockey sticks!" Mrs. Belden exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth. "She's going to take out one of the crabapple trees!"

"Forget about the crabapple trees," Mart whooped. "She's headed straight for the chicken coop!"

As Aunt Alicia continued to barrel down the driveway at breakneck speed, Trixie gripped the porch railing in horror. Thankfully, the oversized vehicle negotiated the first turn, but it wasn't out of the woods yet.

Now, fishtailing back and forth, the luxury vehicle seemed out of control. Someone had to stop it! So Mr. Belden and Brian ran into the road, waving frantically to slow it down. But the car only seemed to go faster.

Trixie's father and brother jumped out of its way just in the nick of time, and the young girl gulped.

But the whizzing auto was now only a few feet away from the garage. And growing ever closer, Aunt Alicia finally slammed on the breaks. Only as she did, the car's right rear end went careening off the driveway.

Suddenly, the whole event seemed to switch into slow motion. As the champagne Mercury spiraled around once, and then once again, mare's tails of snow shot into the air. But it didn't stop there. Now, sliding sideways, the automobile inched closer and closer to the old jalopy, which was parked on the pad nearby.

Trixie knew the end result was inevitable. She covered her eyes and listened for the impact. Aunt Alicia was going to hit Brian's car!

As Mr. Belden and Brian rushed down the sidewalk toward the accident scene, Mrs. Belden and her other children flew from the porch to join them.

Aunt Alicia, seeming no worse for wear, opened the car door and climbed out.

"Now that's what I call a grand entrance!" she laughed, beaming at her startled family.

"Oh Alicia, are you sure you haven't twisted something?" Mrs. Belden cried. She helped the protesting woman wade through the deep snowdrifts and then added, "You came to such a sudden stop, why you're lucky you didn't break your neck."

"Goodness, Helen, stop being such a worry-wort," Aunt Alicia replied. "The airbag didn't even deploy. I'm fit as a fiddle. But I must admit, your dear auntie probably should have flown."

Mr. Belden chuckled and hugged Aunt Alicia. "From my vantage point, I'd say you were flying," he laughed. "May I ask why you were going so fast?"

Aunt Alicia clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes as if she shouldn't have to explain. "Fifteen minutes late is fashionable, Peter. But a half-hour is simply unheard of."

Trixie shook her head at the ridiculous answer. She was used to her aunt's warped sense of etiquette, but that didn't mean she wasn't surprised by it. You never knew what was going to come out of Aunt Alicia's mouth. But you could always count on it being a doozy.

With Aunt Alicia unharmed, Brian went to inspect the damage to the two cars. Following him, Trixie asked, "How bad is it?"

"The Mercury just looks a little scratched," he replied. "A bottle of touch up paint should do the trick. But the Jalopy's seen better days. I guess I know what Bobby and Mikey will be 'holping' me with next week."

As Brian lovingly ran his hand across his car's dented rear bumper, Aunt Alicia came up tsk-tsking. Reaching into the oversized satchel she called a purse, the older lady pulled out her checkbook. "Dear me," she clucked, "it seems I ruined your hotrod thingie. Do let Aunt Alicia buy you a new one, won't you, dear?"

Trixie grinned, as Brian told Aunt Alicia to put her checkbook away. He assured his concerned relative he could repair the damage to the Jalopy himself. And Trixie had no doubt Brian could.

But she also did not doubt that Aunt Alicia's offer had been sincere. Few people in the Belden family had the kind of money Aunt Alicia did. She sold high-end real-estate back home in North Carolina, and Trixie's father said she was known to be a shrewd negotiator. Only when Aunt Alicia spoke of her success, she owed her small fortune to her more feminine charms.

Sadly, however, her aunt's "charms" weren't going to get her car out of the snowbank. So, Mr. Belden asked the well-to-do woman for her set of keys. Next, he started up the lodged monster and then instructed his sons to give the vehicle a push from behind.

Of course, all the while, Aunt Alicia was directing from the sidelines. "No, no, no, Martin. You'll get better leverage if you move to the right, dear. And Peter, luv, don't crank the wheel so tightly. You're only digging in deeper. Maybe you should let Aunt Alicia do it, sweetheart."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Belden was trying unsuccessfully to get the "helpful" woman into the house. It hadn't stopped snowing, and Trixie knew her mother had to be chilled. Neither she nor Moms had thought to put on a coat in their rush out the door.

Deciding it was best to keep out everyone's way, Trixie returned to the porch. She was shivering but couldn't pull herself away from the drama. Di and Honey were not going to believe this!

And then, Trixie felt someone take her hand.

"What's goin' on?" Bobby asked. "Me and Reddy heard all the motion."

Glancing down, his big sister frowned. The little boy had managed to pull on his snowsuit but had been unable to get it zipped. He'd also missed an armhole.

"You were supposed to stay inside," she scolded as she finished getting him dressed. "Aunt Alicia just had a little trouble stopping her car. But she'll be up to see you real soon."

"That's what I told Reddy," Bobby said. "He was pretty 'cerned."

Then Bobby's blue eyes grew wide. "Looks at all the presents!" he exclaimed.

Coming their way, behind Moms and their aunt, the Belden men were heavily loaded with luggage and packages. But it wasn't the number of gifts that amazed Trixie most. No, she was more stunned by the number of suitcases. Aunt Alicia may have been planning to visit for three weeks, but it looked as if she'd packed for three months!

Finally reaching the top of the steps, the overly prepared lady grinned at her youngest nephew.

In reply, Bobby stretched out his hand and said, "Greetings, Aunt 'Licia. I do hope you had a pleasant drive?"

Mart had been coaching Bobby on the proper way to say hello, and the child's formal welcome couldn't have been more perfectly timed.

Everyone in the Belden household broke down in laughter -including their newly arrived member.

"Dids I gets somethin' wrong?" Bobby asked his instructor, wrinkling his forehead.

"Nope," Mart replied, still chuckling. "Your delivery was superb, my boy!"

Inside, Mart set down his burden and was instantly swept up in a great big hug.

"Why Martin, you're as meaty as a football player," Aunt Alicia cried. She planted a kiss firmly on his cheek. And then, noticing she'd left a lipstick stain behind, licked her finger and tried to smudge it off.

Cornering the oldest Belden boy next, the boisterous woman gushed, "And Brian! Just look at you! You are the spitting image of your father."

Trixie, knowing full well that her turn was coming, offered to check on dinner for her mother. But Moms instructed her not to be rude and to stay put. So the yielding teen forced a smile and braced for a squeeze.

Once it was over, and she'd pulled away, Aunt Alicia looked her niece up and down with a discerning eye.

"You look very nice, dear," she said. "I'm so pleased you like your sweater. Aunt Alicia will need to remember pink's your color. But Trixie, dear…"

Trixie had been expecting the "but", and she prepared for the coming jab.

"…aren't you a bit too old for knee-his? Stockings would look best, sweetheart. Though on a day like today, tights would be the more practical choice, I suppose. Helen, hasn't this girl any tights?"

Trixie tried not to smirk as her mother hemmed and hawed. It was going to be a long visit. That was for sure. But she'd have to make the best of it. "

"I have two nice pairs," Trixie replied, letting Moms off the hook. "But I was afraid I'd snag them on my desk at school, Aunt Alicia. But may I say, pink's your color too. That's a lovely scarf you're wearing."

It was all Trixie could do to keep from giggling. Hanging around with Honey was teaching her the art of singing people praises. And she hadn't been fibbing. Aunt Alicia did look nice in pink. In fact, Aunt Alicia looked nice in just about any color.

She was really quite attractive if you could overlook her brazen personality. Her hair was upswept and was currently colored a light platinum blonde. Trixie knew women half Aunt Alicia's age would die to have the fashionable lady's figure. And her aunt knew how to dress to make the most of it.

Her wardrobe was tastefully conservative. Yet somehow, she always gave it that womanly touch that caught men's eyes. Usually, she did this by adding pearly jewelry or a floral scarf. But of course, high heels were a must too. Whether they be shoes or boots, they were to be worn with both skirts and slacks. But there was also another requirement. Trixie's aunt's footwear had to match her handbag. Just as her lipstick color had to be the same shade as her nail polish, and both needed to compliment her blouse.

Yes, Aunt Alicia was indeed attractive, but she did tend to overboard on the lipstick and eyeliner, Trixie decided. "Aunt Trixie will need to remember that," she chuckled to her future self.

That evening, Trixie rocked slowly in the chair next to Bobby's bed. The crocheted afghan across her lap had heard many a bedtime story. And though tonight's tale had gone unfinished, few children couldn't recite its end. "…and to all a good night," Trixie said softly.

As she closed the book, the contented young lady fingered the silver medallion hanging around her neck. The little boy she'd been reading to had long since fallen off to sleep. And Trixie gave a peaceful sigh. Crabapple farm was quiet at last.

After clicking off the lamp on the bedside table, she sat back to enjoy the flickering light from the candle sitting on the sill.

The rhythmic sound of shovels scraping snow came from the walkway outside. Trixie's older brothers, hard at work, were clearing away the day's excitement under a star-filled sky.

Aunt Alicia, tired from her journey, had turned in early to get her "beauty rest". And Daddy had decided to catch up on some work in the den.

Moms, Trixie guessed, was on the phone with Mrs. Murphy. As occasionally, a muffled laugh would filter through the floor vent. And she was glad. Her mother seemed so much happier since she'd found someone to talk to.

As Bobby's breathing became heavier, Trixie softly hummed as she rocked. The day she'd been dreading for over a month was reaching a tranquil close.

She wasn't in any hurry to return to her room. Trixie's flannel pajamas were warm and comfortable. And she was tempted to nod off in the chair.

Outside Bob's window, Manor House rose on the hill like a beaconing lighthouse. It was easy to imagine Honey, stretched out on her elegantly canopied bed, leafing through magazines. And Jim, in the stables, with Regan, working on his father's surprise. Only Trixie just couldn't picture the surprise. No matter how hard she tried.

But there was another thing playing on Trixie's mind. Who had sent the Saint Nicholas medal? It wasn't just any gift. The gesture was obviously well-intentioned. And the significance behind it merited deep reflection.

Again, Trixie rubbed the pendant between her fingers. For a reason she couldn't explain, she hadn't taken it off when she'd slipped into her nightclothes. It was almost as if the medallion were charmed. Even now, it was whispering to her that it was important she wear it.

This was illogical, of course. But it didn't matter to Trixie. There was a profound gravity to the gift that gave credence to the compulsion.

Santa Claus now had new meaning to the maturing young lady. No longer was he just a jolly bringer of toys. Santa had become a saint and a protector. And in this case, he was the giver of an extraordinary secret medal.

Moms had said Saint Nicholas of Myra had been generous. And so was Trixie's Secret Santa. She'd also mentioned Nicholas had lost both of his parents and used his entire inheritance to help the less fortunate. The saintly man sounded much like someone Trixie knew. Was Jim behind the present?

He did like silver jewelry. Her I.D. bracelet was proof of that. And Jim kept bringing up the fact that Trixie hadn't had any mysteries to solve lately. Was it possible he cooked one up? Just to keep her occupied and out of the stables?

Trixie shook her head and tried to clear the thought. If Jim had done something like that, he wouldn't have used something as sacred as a holy medal for his game. No, whoever had sent it had done so for more sober reasons. Trixie could feel it in her bones.