Lee, Amanda, and all their friends and family belong to Shoot the Moon Enterprises and Warner Brothers, not me.

FIRST THERE WERE TWO

"Man, it's quiet." Lee Stetson dipped a chip into a bowl of guacamole and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. He leaned back against the sofa cushions, stretching his long legs out under the coffee table, and took a swig of beer.

"Mm," Amanda murmured, from her spot beside him. She was pretending to read the new book she'd unwrapped that morning — a gift from Phillip — but he knew her attention was drifting. In fact, she looked as if she were half-asleep, her head tipped back against the cushions and her feet tucked under his thigh. Her toes were cold, in spite of the bright wool socks she wore — a gift from Jamie — and she was snuggled into an old sweatshirt, once a cheery red, now faded to a much softer hue.

"Is that a good 'mm' or a bad 'mm'?" he asked.

"It's nice," she said, lifting her head to smile at him. "And probably exactly what I needed."

"Yeah?"

He knew she liked peace and quiet now and then, but Christmas Day was the one time she wanted the house packed to the rafters, full of squabbling relatives and laughing kids. She liked big Christmases, the Norman Rockwell, Very-Special-Episode kind, with caroling and sugar cookies and rustling wrapping paper. So making peace with the idea that this year's celebration was going to be pared way down was not something that came easily.

Dotty was supposed to be there with Jack, someone Lee struggled to put a label on (boyfriend seemed wrong, he was sixty-something; companion didn't fit, either; he refused to entertain the word 'lover' in relation to his mother-in-law or anyone outside of a soap opera). They'd been in Montreal, visiting Jack's daughter, and they'd planned to fly back the afternoon before and join Lee and Amanda for a quiet dinner with good wine and adult conversation. But Dotty had called at three-thirty to tell them their flight had been canceled. "Snow. So much snow. I'm so sorry," she'd said. "Jack's trying to make other arrangements but it's not looking good. I mean it's Christmas."

"Well," Amanda had said, and Lee knew she was trying to sound positive, "I guess we all get a turn missing Christmas Eve once in a while."

Dotty had called again that night to say there were still no flights, but the connection had been terrible and Amanda had barely been able to hear what she was saying. So if she and Jack had a plan B, they didn't know what it was. When she'd hung up, Amanda had opened the refrigerator and looked at the roast sitting there.

"We can save it for when they get back," Lee had said.

"And have what instead? Guacamole?" She nudged an avocado, waiting patiently on the shelf, with one fingertip.

"Fine by me," he'd said, slipping his arms around her and drawing her away from the fridge. "Bacon and eggs, sugar cookies, a can of tomato soup. Leftover Chinese food. I don't care. It's just you and me. We can do whatever we want."

She'd laughed then, exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. "That's a good point, Stetson," she'd said, pushing the refrigerator door closed and snaking her arms around his neck. "What do we do now?"

They'd opened a bottle of wine and sat in front of the Christmas tree until late, listening to music and talking about nothing much. And then they'd gone up to bed, without stuffing any stockings or having to coax any youngsters up the stairs.

That morning they'd slept late and stayed in bed until almost eleven, something they'd managed to do at home approximately three times since they'd been married. When they'd finally gone downstairs, after a long, luxurious shower, Amanda had made pancakes and bacon. "Snowman pancakes," she said, "I'm keeping one tradition alive."

"Guess that takes care of bacon and eggs for dinner," Lee had said, drowning his snowmen in maple syrup and cutting one of their heads off.

"Leftovers it is," Amanda had agreed, settling in across from him.

And now here they were, at just after one o'clock, working their way through Lee's traditional chips and guacamole, the football game on in the background. "I wonder how the boys are doing," Amanda said after a minute, when there was a commercial break in the game.

"I thought they'd have called by now," Lee admitted, circling her ankle with his forefinger and thumb. He rubbed his thumb over her ankle bone. The socks were luxuriously soft, and he'd done it often enough that day that she'd suggested she try to find him a pair, too.

"Joe's mother probably has it scheduled," Amanda said, a little wryly. "Christmas at that King household follows a pretty strict agenda."

Lee cocked a brow, curious, but she simply laughed and sat up to take a sip of his beer.

Phillip and Jamie were spending Christmas with Joe, Carrie, and his parents. They'd left the morning before, a little put out about the massive change in their holiday schedules but, for a change, excited to spend some time with their father. Joe hadn't been planning to be back for the holidays — he'd come for a month in the fall, but then the EAO had sent him back to do some liaison work with the US government, so he was in town until the middle of January. Excited with the prospect of having his kids so close during the holidays, he'd asked Amanda if she'd mind if he took them to visit his side of the family. Of course, she couldn't say no — not even if she wanted to, though she had fretted about it to Lee a little.

"Hey." He reached to catch the bottle out of her hand. "Get your own."

She made a face at him and moved to get up off the couch, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her back, almost into his lap. Amanda laughed, leaning in for a kiss.

"And get me another while you're at it," he said, his mouth against hers.

"Chauvinist," she said, pushing up from the couch. "Good thing the boys aren't here to see this."

He laughed. "I didn't say it because you're a woman, I said it because you're getting up."

The doorbell rang just as Amanda dug out the bottle opener. She frowned at Lee as he turned to look at her in surprise. "Maybe it's Mother after all." He waited as she disappeared into the entryway, and then he heard a low, familiar voice. A moment later, Amanda was back in the family room, and she had his uncle with her.

Lee sprang up from the couch, nearly upending the bowl of guacamole as he did. Colonel Robert Clayton chuckled, rocking on his feet a little. "Uncle Robert," he said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Skip," Robert said dryly, but his eyes were twinkling.

"I thought you weren't coming," Lee said, his cheeks coloring at how rude he'd just sounded. "I mean, we invited you in November and you said you'd be away."

"I know, and I'm sorry, I should've called when my plans changed at the last minute. But at the time Amanda said you never stand on ceremony during the holidays, and so I figured it'd be okay to stop by and say hello."

"It is," Amanda said. "I mean, of course it is!"

"It's pretty quiet around here," Robert said. "Where are the boys?"

"They're with their father," Amanda explained. "It's all been kind of last minute. And Mother was supposed to be here with someone, but their flight was canceled last night because of a storm."

"So it's just the two of you?" Robert's forehead wrinkled as he looked at the chips, the guacamole, and the football game. He was acquainted with Lee's unorthodox approach to Christmas and was probably surprised to find Amanda indulging it.

"Uh, yeah. That's how it turned out."

"Well, I won't stay," Robert said. "I'm sure your time alone is at a premium and I don't want to —"

"Oh, don't run off," Amanda said. "We hardly ever see you. Sit down and have a drink with us, at least."

"Yeah," Lee echoed, finding his feet — and his manners. "Would you like a beer? A glass of wine?"

"A beer would be great," Robert said, settling in a chair near the tree. Amanda, meanwhile, had moved into the kitchen and scooped up the two bottles she'd just opened. She handed one to Robert, and one to Lee, and then went back into the kitchen. Lee heard her rooting around in a cupboard, opening Tupperware containers and pouring something. A moment later she reappeared carrying one plate loaded with sweets and another with crackers and cheese.

"Robert, will you stay for dinner?"

"That would be lovely, Amanda, but like I said, I don't want to get in the way."

"Oh, you aren't. I was going to make a roast anyway." She retrieved the glass of wine she'd poured herself and sat down on the couch again. "Tell us what you've been up to."