A/N: I'm sorry about the delay with this fic. I had several ideas, but wanted to incorporate Christmas into this somehow, without destroying the timeline. Flashback ensues…

I realized I never actually described Chelsie getting engaged in "Managing Love".

I hope you enjoy this! Merry Christmas to all, enjoy your friends and family.

Early November 2016

The sound of laughter rang from the kitchen when Charles came in. He set the umbrella in the stand quickly so as not to drip water onto the floor. Pepper ambled into the hallway and he picked her up, giving her a cuddle. The air was heavy with the scent of cinnamon and sugar.

"What have we here?" He asked, coming into the warm room. He exaggerated his tone only slightly. The two women looked up, bent over the floured dough on the table. Pepper jumped from his arms and plopped under the table. He suspected she'd been there all morning.

"Hi, Charlie!" Becky said brightly. "We're making cookies!"

"That's wonderful!" he said. "May I have one? They smell delicious."

"Nuh uh….." Becky shook her head. "First, kiss."

Charles shook his head, smiling. "Oh, all right." Every time he saw Becky, it was the same ritual. He leaned over and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek. He rubbed her face lightly with his thumb. "You've got flour on your face, missy." Reaching over her shoulder, he picked up a warm, frosted cookie. "I love fresh cookies-"

"No COOKIE!" Becky shouted, insisting, grabbing his wrist. "KISS ESSIE FIRST!"

He reluctantly let go of the cookie and stood up, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I forgot! Thank you for reminding me!"

Elsie laughed, leaning against a chair. He pulled her to him by her shoulders and kissed her gently. "Someone else has flour on her face," he murmured. His wife blushed and wiped her hands on her apron. The sight of her rattled made him kiss her again, lingering on her lips. "Mmm, and you've had a few cookies as well."

"Well, of course," she said, turning a bit quickly to roll the dough. "They are good, Becky is quite the baker!"

Charles put a hand on Becky's shoulder. "Of course! I would never forget that. May I have my cookie now?" he asked the younger woman, who hummed as she pressed shapes into the dough. "Please?"

"Okay, yeah," she sighed.

He picked up the one he'd dropped and ate it. "Oh, this is marvelous! Thank you!" He brushed the crumbs off of his hands. Glancing at the many racks cooling on the counter, he raised his eyebrows. "Christmas trees? Gingerbread men? It's too early to make Christmas cookies."

"No, it's not," Elsie argued, grabbing a towel and opening the oven. She rolled her eyes. "Halloween is over-"

"And Thanksgiving is weeks away," he reminded her, groaning. "It's bad enough the stores start setting out holiday things in September, but my own wife-"

"Loves Christmas, as does Becky," Elsie said brightly. "When she woke up this morning, I asked her what she wanted to do, and she said bake. So that's what we did." She set the hot tray gingerly on an empty rack. "All of your girls have enjoyed it today. And Becky's been making other shapes as well. We have over a dozen hearts in the box over there."

"Very well," he half-grumbled, "But you know how I like to enjoy the seasons as they come, and not skip ahead to the next one."

"I do know," she kissed him on the cheek, her eyes twinkling. "Now, are you going to help us, or are you going to be an old curmudgeon?"

Becky giggled.

Later that afternoon, before they took her back home, Charles took a selfie with the three of them in their aprons.

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"It was a good day," he said, drying the last baking sheet. He put it away. Elsie sighed from the couch, sipping her wine.

"A very good day," she agreed. "I'm glad you were home for the afternoon. Becky was disappointed at breakfast when you weren't there. I think," she mused, "she likes you better than me."

"Never," he joined her. "I'm still a novelty."

"I was surprised you got home before lunch. I thought you and Alfred would work until three at least."

He put an arm around her. "I have a confession to make."

"Oh?" she handed him her glass, and he sipped the Pinot Noir.

"I told him and Matthew I had to leave early. That my sister had stayed overnight, and I wanted to spend some time with her before she had to go home."

"Charles Carson," she said, her eyebrows raised, "are you telling me you left associates working on trial prep, on a Saturday no less? You're losing your work ethic. For shame," the barb of the comment was dissipated by her smile.

"I think of it as I gained a family, and they are more important," he replied.

She squeezed his arm, drawing his face down to hers. "I love you," she whispered. For several minutes, there was no conversation between them.

"Oh," he broke away from her lips, "before I forget, I wanted to tell you. Ironically, your insistence on beginning holiday celebrations early reminded me." The corner of his mouth curved into a grin. "I bought one of Becky's Christmas presents. Straight No Chaser concert tickets for the three of us next month."

"Charlie," she threw her arms around him, "she'll love it, Melissa told me she listens to their music all the time. Her favorite song is their cover of "Happy"! And the "Twelve Days of Christmas", of course," she laughed. "And you and I will enjoy it, too. Tom took Sybbie when they were in town last year."

"Well, darling, I was thinking of us when I bought them," he hugged her back, delighted she was so excited. "I've been watching some of their videos on YouTube. They sing my kind of music, classic hits, as well as adaptations of current songs. Including "Marvin Gaye"." He tickled her playfully.

She shrieked with laughter. "Let me guess – is that your favorite song?"

"No," he chortled, trying to hold on to her. "But I have to admit so far my favorite of theirs is "All About That Bass (No Tenors)".

"You're not serious," she gasped, leaning over sideways, escaping from his searching fingers. "I know you, Charlie, you're more likely to listen to "My Girl"." She got up and headed for the bedroom with him in her wake.

"I am serious," he insisted as they got ready for bed. She turned off the lamp over Pepper's bed. Their puppy was snoring. "I like that song."

"No, I don't believe you," she said, climbing under the sheets. "My wee furry one had a few too many sweets today. I should have kept her out of the kitchen, but Becky loves her."

"Of course," he said absent-mindedly, searching on his phone. "Look, watch this." He scooted over so she could see. They watched the video together, laughing at the audience reaction. When it was over, he set the phone on his side table. She snuggled in next to him.

"Maybe I can see your point. About the song."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "What changed your mind?" Resisting the urge to tickle her again, he wound his arms around her waist.

She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "I think it was the line about a low voice whispering in my ear at night," she whispered. She traced two fingers up from his chest, over his collarbone, and wound it up his neck around his ear before traveling down his jawline and stopping, fingering his lips. "It reminded me of someone I know," she purred.

Charles kissed her fingers. He pulled her closer, winding her leg around his.

Yeah, my mama she told me

'Don't worry 'bout those tenor guys'

She said, 'Girls like a low voice

To whisper in their ear at night...'

He sang, his breath along the curve of her neck. "Who did it remind you of?" he breathed, marking every freckle on her shoulder.

She ran her hands into his hair. He moved onto his back, taking her with him. She gasped when she felt his mouth in the hollow of her throat.

"The most seductive man I know," she panted. "It doesn't matter where I hear his voice, whether it's at work, or at-oh, home, or whether he's teasing me about flour on my face, or-"

"Who is it?" he whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand. His other hand stroked down her back. "What does his voice do?" Her lips met his in a fiery kiss, and she hummed into his mouth.

"You, my man," she growled. "Your-oh God, your voice is-yes-it-it, makes me want you," she breathed. "I forget myself, I don't know how I worked beside you for so many years without throwing myself into your arms."

"You are in my arms now," he rumbled against her collarbone, "But what I'm going to do to you now has…nothing to do with my voice."

Moaning, she helped him slip off her nightgown.

Their room echoed with the sound of their voices.

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She lay asleep, sated, her hair splayed across her pillow.

For once he was not tired at all. He watched her deep breathing in the moonlight, thinking of her blessed persistence when it came to Christmas.

Last year was the first time you really saw it. When she got excited at the first frost in October.

Charles gazed at his wife. Sometimes the previous couple of years seemed almost like a dream to him.

He hadn't told Elsie, but since they had married, he had had a recurring nightmare. He didn't know what triggered them-he thought it was probably when he worried about her, or pondered his age.

In the dream (which always felt very real), he would wake up in the bed, in the house. Alone. He would get dressed, and go to the office. Everyone he knew was there. But when he would go to the office to the right of his, Elsie was never there. He would ask someone where she was, and no matter who he asked, everyone would look at him in confusion.

No one had ever heard of her. She never existed.

Then he would wake up.

The first time he had the dream, he literally woke up yelling. He'd woken up Pepper, and when Elsie woke up, he passed it off as their dog being upset. He'd brought their furry child into bed, but it had taken him ages to go back to sleep.

He didn't want to tell his best friend about it, but he knew he should. Soon.

All he knew was he didn't want to have that nightmare anymore. Lying awake, watching his beautiful wife sleep nude in their bed was the best remedy.

Rolling over onto his side, he gently traced a finger down her back so as not to wake her.

I know she'll ask me soon what I want for Christmas. What can I tell her? She is the best gift I ever received.

He smiled, remembering. And you were nervous about proposing on Christmas Eve. You needn't have worried…

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Christmas Eve 2015

"Are you leaving? It's one o'clock," Elsie stood in the doorway to his office, holding her coat. He powered off his laptop and closed it.

"Just finishing now. I'm not staying late, no worries," Charles got up and took his coat off the rack. He glanced past her into the hallway. The only person visible was Phyllis, and she had her back to his office, heading down the stairs. Charles leaned over and kissed the office manager on the lips. "I have plans with a gorgeous woman," he whispered. Her face blushed scarlet.

"Mr. Carson, really," she gave him a wide smile as he helped her into her coat. "That was rather risqué. Especially for you. What if someone had seen you?" She brushed lint off of his sleeve.

They had been dating for almost a year, and virtually none of their friends knew about it. The only person at the firm they thought might know for certain was Beryl. Elsie had told Anna she and the managing partner had gone to dinner once, but had told the younger woman nothing else.

Charles knew kissing Mrs. Hughes at the office was tempting fate. And certainly out of character for him. Both had endeavored to be discreet, not wanting their loving relationship to become public knowledge. They were private people.

But of any day, today is the day to start being more open in public.

By the next day, he prayed, everyone would know. "No one saw us, Mrs. Hughes. We're the last to leave. As usual." They walked down the stairs and out the front doors. Anna had already shut the lights off and locked up.

Elsie laughed at the clock in the lobby. "That must be a record. The office closed at one, and it's seven minutes past now."

"Everyone wanted to go home, start celebrating," he said as they went outside into the cold wind.

"And we are no exception," she replied archly, getting into her own car.

She followed him home.

They spent most of the afternoon cozily ensconced at his house. He woke up around four to find her standing in his bathrobe, peering out the window.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," he murmured. He reached for her. "Come back to bed, love."

"It's snowing," she said gleefully, untying the knot and letting the big garment fall to the floor.

He didn't register a single syllable she said. She climbed onto the bed, and whipped the blankets back. The sight of him so ready for her was something she was still getting used to.

She hoped the feelings she felt for him would never become routine.

He is so lovely, my Charlie, my beautiful man.

She had thought it would have been difficult to reconcile the professional, rather stoic man she had worked with for a quarter-century from this more relaxed, gentle man. But they had been friends for so long the transition had been nearly seamless. Even when they (finally) began their physical relationship, it had been easier than she had dared dream.

We've been friends for such a long time. We already cared for each other deeply, and that was just the next natural step.

Six months we've been making love, and I cannot get enough of him.

I love him.

"Come here," he whispered, taking her hand. He kissed it, turned it over and kissed her palm and her wrist.

With a sigh, she straddled him, sinking onto him. His hands held her hips with the cadence of their movements.

"Yes," she breathed, feeling the familiar pleasure of their bodies moving as one. "Oh-yes, just there, oh-"

Keening, she threw her head back. He came with a roar, spilling into her. He called her name repeatedly as she climaxed. The intensity of the vibrations continued, and he was elated when she spoke Gaelic.

He always knew when she spoke her mother tongue that she had reached her pleasure.

They rocked together until gradually coming to a stop. She kissed his mouth, his neck, his shoulder, then his mouth again. Wildly.

"Thank you," she whispered fervently, resting her head against his. He chuckled, pulling the sheet up around them.

"You're welcome, my love," he kissed her nose. "And thank you."

"Was that my Christmas present?" she asked, her voice muffled against his pounding chest.

"One of them," he stroked her back gently, glancing at the clock. "Oh damn – it's a quarter to five!"

"What!?" she cried, sitting up. "We need to get ready, we don't want to miss dinner!" She leaped out of bed, heading for the master bathroom. "Why don't we shower together? Save time?"

He hadn't moved from the bed. "I don't think us showering together will save time. You go ahead," he threw the sheet off. "I'll use the other one."

After she'd closed the bathroom door, he quickly got up and opened a dresser drawer. He lifted out the box inside, and carried it with his clothes to the bathroom down the hall.

He did not want to risk her finding it, or even worse, him forgetting the ring.

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Dinner was at a family-owned restaurant in the city. The place was closing early for Christmas Eve, and by the time Charles and Elsie left, there were only a few people still inside eating.

Charles worried that there was too much time until church at eleven. He suggested driving around downtown to look at the massive displays of lights everywhere. Happily, Elsie agreed.

"It all looks magical," she commented as they passed the huge Catholic cathedral. "Growing up, Becky and I didn't have elaborate decorations to look at, but there's something about even a few candles in windows and the tree lit up inside." She sighed, snuggling in her coat. They continued down a main avenue, near the park. The streets were almost empty.

"I'm glad it stopped snowing," Charles said, turning onto another street. He glanced at Elsie's outraged expression. "Not that I don't like snow, but otherwise it would be a mess to drive in."

"True," she said. "But it is very pretty. Would you mind if we got out and walked a bit? I'm perfectly warm now," she buttoned up her coat.

"All right, just for a bit," he said, finding a parking space. The huge Christmas tree blinked in the wintry dark. Behind it, the fountain reflected red and green.

He didn't have any definite plan. That fact scared him. But proposing to Elsie was not something to practice, like the opening statement at a trial. If there was anything he had learned from the months they had been together, it was that she appreciated his sincerity more than anything.

I hope the right words will come to me.

They got out of the car, and headed down the street. His heart danced a tarantella.

Please help me to say what I mean.

"I'm surprised no one is about," she said. "It's rather strange, having this place all to ourselves."

"It's nice, I think," he murmured. The temporary ice-skating rink lay to their left. The white lights were on, but the park was deserted. Except for them.

Please let her say yes. His hands were shaking, so he stuffed them in his pockets. "Have you ever wanted to go ice-skating?" he gestured to the spot behind them as they stopped in front of the tree. She laughed.

"I don't know. I haven't done that since I was a wee girl!" she shook her head. "I was never any good at it, always falling down." She grinned at him. "We'd better not. I'd probably fall and break my neck, and then you'd be stuck with me!"

The words she spoke tumbled around in his brain, not making much sense.

Except three words.

He reached out and took her hand. She looked up at him in curiosity.

"But that's the point. I do want to be stuck with you," he said quietly. He fumbled in his other pocket, thankful he'd removed the ring from the box. He got down on one knee, never mind the cold and snow, and his aching knee. "Elsie Hughes," he held up the ring, never looking away from her face, "will you marry me?"

She was shocked. Shocked.

It was not as if she hadn't thought about it. They had not talked about marriage, not specifically, but their conversations over the last few months about the future had been about them, together. She loved him. She loved him.

He loved her, she knew. Well, he just asked you to marry him, that's a fairly obvious sign…

She had loved him for years without knowing if he felt the same way. Almost a full year had gone by since he had first asked her on a date, and now here he was proposing!

No wonder I'm in shock.

She thought about being married to him. What that would mean. A public affirmation of their very private love.

Most of our friends probably think of us as married already. This will confirm it.

Living together, as well as working together. Creating a home that was for both of them. He, being her husband. She, being his wife.

There was nothing she had ever wanted more.

Nothing.

All of it flashed through her mind in an instant. She was smiling, shaking with the intensity of her joy. Her eyes were alight, like candles glimmering from a window.

"Yes, Charles," she whispered, feeling tears come. "Yes, I will marry you, yes, yes-"

He slipped the ring on her left ring finger, his hands warm. Kissing her, he felt her laugh into his mouth even as he felt the tears on her cheek.

He didn't realize he was crying until she touched his face. He embraced her, tucking her head under his chin. "I love you, Elsie," he whispered. "You have made me so happy."

"You too," she whispered, trying to contain her tears. Giving up, she broke from his embrace and fumbled for a tissue, laughing. "Despite my appearance, I could not be happier!"

He laughed, taking out a handkerchief. "I know what you mean." She wiped her eyes and nose. The ring glittered against the lights on the tree.

"Is this another present, then?" she teased. He nodded, taking her arm and placing it through his. "Then I've had my Christmas," she said softly. "For this year, and for a good ten years to come." She admired the ring. "I don't want anything else."

"All right," he said, feeling rather giddy. "I'll take back the other things I bought for you-"

"No!" she cried, nudging him playfully. He laughed. "Although you will be disappointed. I didn't get you anything to compare to this."

"Yes you did," he said as they walked around the fountain. "You agreeing to be my wife-" his voice wobbled-"is the greatest gift I could ever receive." He held her hand to his lips and fervently kissed it.

"Oh Charles," she whispered, crying. They embraced for a long time. He dipped his head and kissed her again, tasting her, his hands sliding down her back.

The touch of his soft lips on hers made her feel complete. That she was home. She pulled on the lapels of his coat, drawing him closer.

They did not break apart until the bells of the cathedral began to chime. They looked up in wonder.

It was snowing again.

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They made several phone calls. Charles called Robert and John, then Mary. Elsie called Beryl, then Anna. Neither went into a great amount of detail, but just relayed the basics.

There would be time for that later.

Christmas Eve service was suffused with joy. They spent much of the time in church holding hands. Charles was glad the lights were dimmed, because he kept kissing Elsie's hand.

She will be my wife.

Glory to God in the highest.

The choir singing "Angels We Have Heard on High" felt like it was for them.

The music and words of the old story worked their way into Elsie's heart.

Peace on earth, good will toward men.

Thank you, God. For answering my prayer.

He will be my husband.

They kissed again when they got back to Charles's house, despite the late hour and knowing they were expected at Becky's early in the morning.

Finally, Elsie whispered good night one last time. "Merry Christmas," she added, a brilliant smile on her face.

"Merry Christmas," Charles replied. He waited until she had driven down the street and disappeared before going inside.

Neither one of them gave a second thought to what people would say.