Lending a Hand for Christmas

A/N: As some of you might have read in my reviews of other wonderful 2018 Christmas Challenge stories, one of our kids sustained 3 torn ankle ligaments just before Christmas, throwing a monkey wrench into my best intentions to acknowledge individually each reader's kind thoughtful comments about my drabble chapters here. So please know that each review has warmed my Christmas-loving heart, and made my days. Since my mom was born Dec. 25th, like Booth, this has always been my favorite time of year.

To augment their parents' Christmas ornament collection, Christine and Hank had scheduled a Saturday morning trip to the Rockville Town Square the weekend before Thanksgiving. If they didn't find suitable gift items there, they planned to check out Montrose Crossing as well. The siblings hoped their purchases would convey how blessed and grateful they felt to have such wonderful parents. Getting to know Tyler, Isaiah, and Jordan Vaziri had made them all the more aware of that serendipity. After some serious discussion of caution and traffic laws, Booth and Brennan had granted Christine's request to drive there with her brother as 'precious cargo'.

She had earned her provisional driver's license six weeks earlier under Maryland's Rookie Driver Program, passing the test with 'a lot of color' as her parents declared with wide smiles at each other. That comment had greatly confused Christine until they explained the history of Brennan's long-ago comment about Gemma Arrington. The teenager had let it go as part of her parents' complex relationship, too pleased with her momentous success to care about ancient history.

The siblings started their quest at First Watch, discussing ideas over waffles and orange juice. No one could top their dad's chocolate chip pancakes, but the blueberry waffles were wonderful. It had been 'years' since both Booth kids had enjoyed grade school birthday parties at Color Me Mine Ceramics, but their fond memories surfaced today as gift inspiration. Thanking their waitress with an appropriate tip, the pair headed down the sidewalk, entered the studio, and perused the shelves of greenware. A flat rectangular plaque titled "Mistle-Toes" caught Christine's attention. She picked up the plaque and approached the store owner. Angela had helped create childhood foot and handprints in clay several times in the past, but their appendages were much larger now.

"Could you help my brother and me make Mistle-Toes plaques for our folks that wouldn't be gigantic?" she asked?

Hallie Ferguson considered her question. "Your hands and feet are obviously larger than these were designed for, but that's a lovely idea. Can you give me a few minutes to mull this through? Maybe consider what colors you'd like to use for your plaques."

A puzzled Hank stood watching his sister's conversation. When Mrs. Ferguson stepped away, he looked at her quizzically.

"Whatcha thinkin', Chris?"

"A plaque like those Auntie A used to make with us," Christine replied.

"How? We're so much bigger now!"

"That's what the owner is trying to figure out."

Mrs. Ferguson stood up from her small reception desk, and motioned them over.

"Instead of my Mistle-Toes plaque, what do you think of this design?" she asked, turning her computer monitor so they could view its screen display.

"This lady, Anita Harris, is a college classmate of mine; we both majored in art and roomed together. You wouldn't be able to leave my shop today with a finished product, but I believe her design would accomplish what you are wanting better than I could."

The 'RememberClay' website she had pulled up described the product. Customers make a mold of their hand or footprint, mail it back, and the artist transfers it to clay, kiln-fires and glazes the final creation which is shipped to their homes.

"Since Anita happens to live in Bethesda, you could bypass the shipping times if you delivered your molds and picked up the plaque when it's ready," Hallie Ferguson explained.

The siblings grinned at each other. "That's perfect!" Hank declared.

Christine's face fell. "But Mom and Dad will never let me drive that far, Hank! How do we keep it a secret?"

"Oh, good point," Hank agreed. "Bummer, Sis!"

"Anita and I have lunch quite often. I could play go-fer if you'll cover my gasoline," Hallie offered.

"Hank, what about Parker? Shouldn't we include him?" Christine asked suddenly.

"Parker?"

"Our older brother, well, half-brother, but we love each other just as much," Hank clarified.

"Does Parker live in the D.C. area?" Mrs. Ferguson asked.

Christine thought quickly, "Not usually, but Mom said he's delivering a speech at Walter Reed next week, and staying with us a few days. But how will we get the mold kits?"

Hallie chuckled. "You two must be living right. Anita's idea fascinated me, so I've been experimenting with my children as subjects. She gave me a dozen kits the last time we had lunch a few weeks ago. I'd be happy to sell you three of them today. Hopefully, you can find a time to mold your hand or foot when your parents aren't home."

"Which would work better, hands or feet? How would we arrange the prints?" Hank asked.

"You sound like a future engineer, young man," Hallie commented. "Anita will have some ideas; let me give her a call."

Pulling out her iPhone, the store owner consulted her friend. "She thinks you're on to something. Handprints will be shorter than feet, and could be stacked, if you will. Do you prefer imprints or raised prints?"

"Raised prints, if that works for Ms. Harris," Christine decided. "Let's call Parker and see what he thinks."

In the midst of writing his presentation, the eldest Booth child grinned to himself as he saw the phone number displayed on his computer. Activating its microphone, he answered.

"Hey, Chrissy-cakes, whazzup?"

Blushing a bit at his nickname for her, Christine quickly explained Mrs. Ferguson's proposal.

"Count me in! Dad and Bones will love it! My speech is Thursday evening, and I'm arriving Tuesday morning for some meetings, so we'll have plenty of time. My flight doesn't leave until Sunday; I wanted a few days to spend with you guys, since Meredith and I can't make it for Christmas. We're going to the UK, Boxing Day in Scotland!"

"Sounds cool, Parks!" Hank interjected.

"Tell the store owner "Good show!" and I'll talk to you two soon. Gotta get back to writing this speech; I don't want to be standing in front of Army medical brass with nothing to say! TTFN. TTYL, guys," Parker said before disconnecting the call.

"We can't thank you enough, Mrs. Ferguson. Parker is right, our parents will love this gift. It might be too heavy to hang on our Christmas tree with their ornament collections, but it will mean a lot to them wherever they display it," Christine said.

"I'll ask Anita to suggest some colors when I deliver the molds. If you used neutral shades, your parents could display it all year."

"Mom's favorite color is blue, and Dad is always going mushy over her eyes being a most unusual shade of azure, as Auntie A says," Hank remarked. "Maybe a muted blue, gray, and ivory would work?"

"That sounds appropriate and lovely; if the ivory is on top so it doesn't fade into the background," Hallie said. "Let me get the mold kits and if you'll give me your email, I can convey Anita's response. If you don't mind my sharing it with her, she can ask any questions she has while designing your plaque as well."

The Booth siblings had been so engrossed in their ornament planning, they hadn't looked outside. As they turned to leave the shop, Christine gasped in dismay.

"Oh no, Hank! Look, it's sleeting!"

"Maybe you better call Dad," her brother thought aloud. "But tell him to meet us at First Watch, so we don't give away anything."

"Good call, Hank. Thank you again, Mrs. Ferguson. I think I can drop off the molds after school next week," Christine said.

Relieved that his daughter had the foresight to call before striking out in bad weather, Booth agreed to meet his children at the café. Since Christmas was approaching, he knew better than to ask what their shopping trip had entailed. His wife was upstairs, stripping their master bed linens.

"Bones, it's sleeting. We gotta go get the kids and give Chrissy a slick street driving lesson. If we both go, I can ride with her, and you can bring Hank home."

Brennan descended the stairway, her arms full of Egyptian cotton sheets and pillow cases.

"Dress warmly, Booth. You don't need another URI this season."

"Okay, Mom," he responded, kissing her soundly. "Let's go rescue our kids!"

Bbbbbbbbbbbb

Six weeks later as a Christmas sun set, Booth and Brennan sat in front of their amply- illuminated ornament-laden Noble fir and a dying fire 'amid packages, boxes, and bows' holding the letter-sized porcelain plaque. Parker's hand was gray, Hank's was ivory, and the smallest, Christine's, was light French blue. Her brothers' palms were larger than hers by a third, their fingers longer and stouter.

Brennan looked at her husband with tears sparkling in her eyes, almost the color on the plaque.

"They sure got it right this year, didn't they?" he asked her softly, with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Yes, and their choice of porcelain over greenware will be so much more durable over the years ahead," Brennan replied, kissing him back.