One of lunar_penguin's prompts was: potato pancakes & Brandi's first Hanukkah. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as she did!

"Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh what fun it is to ride

In a one horse open sleigh!"

Marshall smiled at Brandi's off key singing as he sprinkled salt over the latkes she had just taken out of the pan. Brandi leaned over the food, inhaled deeply and looked up at him with a grin.

"These look wonderful – much better than the first ones I burnt to a crisp!" she laughed.

Marshall opened the oven and slid the dish inside to keep the food warm. "But they still tasted good! You should be very proud of yourself, Brandi. You made these all by yourself with very little help from me." He moved over to the island and began wiping it down.

"But you chopped the onion for me – I'm such a wuss when it comes to onions. My eyes burn and tear so badly I just know I would have chopped off my fingers and I don't think blood was on the recipe!"

Marshall laughed. "Don't worry – I won't tell on you. Besides, Peter will love that you went to the time and trouble to make latkes."

Brandi turned off the burner and swung around to face him. "It's not Peter I'm trying to impress."

Marshall cocked an eyebrow. "His sister?"

"In her eyes I'll never be good enough for Peter."

"Is that why you wanted to make the latkes?"

"Not at first – I wanted to make potato pancakes before met Rachel. They were going to be my present to Peter and everyone on the last night of Hanukkah."

"So what changed?"

"I met Rachel. She's perfect: the perfect wife, the perfect cook, the perfect mother, the perfect woman. She's done nothing but question and criticize me ever since she stepped off the plane. The last few nights have been like a movie: 'Nights of Hanukkah Hell.'"

"It sounds like she's just being the protective older sister, Brandi."

"But she's younger than Peter!"

Marshall chuckled. "Surely Peter has defended you? Told his sister to mind her own business?"

Brandi's face softened. "Peter's been wonderful. But I'm afraid it's putting a strain on their relationship and the last thing I want to do is come between brother and sister."

Marshall sighed as he noticed that Brandi's eyes were once again swimming with tears. When did he become Brandi's confidante? Didn't she have Mary to talk about relationship issues with? He had spent the last six months trying to get some distance from Mary emotionally only to end up back where he'd started: being her best friend and longing for something more. And now he had ended up trying to help Brandi with her problems as well.

No, he had to revise his earlier thought. He wasn't back where he'd started – somehow he'd gotten himself even deeper entangled in Mary's personal life.

"Sit down, Brandi, and try to relax. You don't have to be home for another hour, do you?"

She glanced at the microwave clock and shook her head.

"I'll make us some tea and you can tell me more about Nana's box."

Brandi waited until Marshall had joined her at the island and both of them had steaming cups of peppermint tea before she responded to his statement about Nana's box.

"I don't know what else I can tell you about the box, Marshall."

"Well, is there anything else you can add to the physical description of it? Anything I can tell my sources that will help identify it?"

"You mean aside from the initials 'MMS' on the front?"

He nodded. "What do the initials stand for?"

"They are Nana's Gran's initials: Mary Margaret Shannon. The box was a wedding present from her husband, Sean Patrick Shannon," Brandi said dreamily. "Mary and I are named after her, you know," she added as she took a sip of tea.

"But – your name is Brandi Elizabeth," Marshall stated in confusion.

She grimaced. "It is now, but I was christened Margaret Elizabeth. See, when I was a teenager, as part of my rebellious phase I legally changed my name to Brandi." She shrugged and then giggled at the surprised look on Marshall's face. ""Margaret was such an old fashioned name. I wanted something hip and cool. After all, everyone called mom 'Jinx', so why couldn't I have a different name too?"

Marshall opened and closed his mouth, trying to follow her twisted logic. Finally he blurted out, "Wait, are you telling me your mom's name isn't Jinx?"

Brandi snorted. "No, that's more like her nickname." Suddenly she gasped. "Oh my gosh, I completely forgot! Mary carved our initials inside the box! You know: MES and a little number two, for her and me! She said that way if the box ever got lost or stolen, we'd be able to find it because it had our Nana's gran's initials and OUR initials in it. This helps, right?"

Marshall nodded woodenly, his mind spinning with all the information he had learned about the Shannon family in the past week. He fought the headache that was trying to form behind his temples and stored the information about MES squared in his brain for later as the back door swung open.

"Good God, what is that smell!" Mary thundered as she strode into the kitchen.

Brandi stood up and looked nervously at Marshall. "Does it smell bad?"

"No! It smells heavenly! Where's the food?" She crossed the kitchen and opened the oven door. "Aha!" she cried, reaching her hand in for the pan only to cry out as it was slapped away by her sister's.

"Don't touch! I made those for Peter, Rachel, John, Lydia, Samuel, Jesse, and Hannah."

Mary gaped at her for a moment before laughing. "I think you forgot Jesus, Mary, and Joseph there, Squish."

Brandi planted her hands on her hips. "Rachel is Peter's sister, John is her husband, and the others are their beautiful children. Mary, don't!" she cried as her sister reached in to break off a piece of crispy latke.

"All right, all right, I won't eat your precious potato pancakes! But consider this my Christmas present to you because I am starving," Mary growled as she plopped onto the stool her sister had vacated.

"There's no need to be so ugly about it – yours are in the microwave," Brandi cooed.

"Why didn't you say so?" Mary exclaimed as she practically shoved her sister aside to get to the food.

"Perhaps she would have if one of us could get a word in, Mer," Marshall spoke for the first time, raising his mug at her in a salute.

"Oh, Doofus, I didn't even see you there," Mary said as she sat back down and shoved a large piece of latke into her mouth.

He rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

She made a face at him and turned back to her sister. "These are really good, Squish, I'm impressed. You made these all by yourself? With real potatoes and stuff?"

Brandi opened her mouth to give Marshall some credit but he beat her to it.

"Yes, she did. I think we have the makings of a chef on our hands."

"Wow, Marshall, thanks." Brandi blushed as Mary grunted. "I think I have come a long way – after all, I know that limes and lemons are different fruits now."

Marshall nearly choked on his sip of tea as Mary snickered.

Brandi looked at the time and grew flustered, saying she wanted to get home before Rachel got back from shopping with the kids. Marshall helped her wrap the warm latkes and carried them out to the car.

When he returned to the kitchen, Mary was staring thoughtfully into space, drinking the rest of his peppermint tea. He chuckled softly when he saw Brandi's nearly full cup sitting untouched by her elbow, but said nothing as he picked up her now empty plate and put it in the dishwasher.

Mary stirred as he was pouring Brandi's tea down the drain and she flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, string bean, was this your cup? I meant to grab Squish's."

He leaned one hip against the counter and smiled at her. "My cup doesn't have lipstick on the rim, Mer." He waved the mug at her, showing Brandi's passion pink lipstick on the edges, before placing it on the top rack of the dishwasher. "Don't worry about it, there's plenty of hot water if I want more."

"So how was lunch with Peter?" he asked as he reclaimed his seat at the island.

Mary shrugged a shoulder. "That's what I was just sitting here thinking about. He's going to ask Brandi to marry him tonight."

Marshall blinked in astonishment but felt a grin spreading across his face at the same time. "That's – wow – that's wonderful. You must be so happy for them. This is wonderful news."

Mary tilted her head. "You think she'll say yes?"

Marshall's grin faded. "You don't?"

"I don't know. I've been sitting here thinking that I don't know my sister well enough to know whether or not she'll say yes."

"Mer," Marshall whispered, reaching across the large table top and taking her hand in his. "She's been living with him for six months now. She's gone to all this trouble to cook for him and his family for Hanukkah. Have you ever known your sister to make those kinds of commitments to any other man?"

Mary shook her head, not trusting her voice, as her vision grew blurry. She gripped his hand like a lifeline, silently vowing that now that she had him back in her life, back in her kitchen, she would never let him go.

"Brandi saying yes or no – that's not what's bothering you, is it? Because you know she loves Peter, you know she'll say yes."

Mary hung her head as she felt one lone tear escape and slide down her cheek.

Marshall felt his heart break a little at the sight of that tear. With his free hand, he placed two fingers under her chin, lifted her face, and swiped the tear away with his thumb. Green met blue. "Tell me," he urged. "What happened at lunch?"

She took a slow deep breath, not looking away from his eyes or moving from his touch. "Peter asked me for permission to marry Brandi."

He nodded slowly. It made sense that Peter would ask Mary for permission to marry her sister since there wasn't a father figure to ask. Mary had been father and mother to Brandi her whole life; she had taken care of her sister from birth. Now Peter wanted to step in and provide for her sister. Marshall didn't think Mary knew how to relinquish Brandi's care to another person – let alone a man. God only knew how Peter's request had made her feel.

"He loves her and wants to take care of her – but what if he changes his mind later? What if he leaves?" Mary whispered.

Marshall's heart broke a little more. His girl didn't believe in 'happily ever after' – and if he was being honest with himself, she had a lot more than just her own life experiences to back up her claims. Being US Marshals had shown them the worst sides of people and their failed relationships over the years.

"Then you will be there to pick up the pieces," he reassured her. "In the meantime, be happy for her and take comfort in the fact that there will always be an endless stream of witnesses who need you."

Mary's mouth fell open in a soft gasp. "How did you-?"

He smiled softly. "Because I know you, Mer. You need to take care of people. You need to feel needed – we all do. It's written in our DNA. It's not a sign of weakness."

She snorted and tried to move out of his hold but he gripped her chin tighter, running his thumb across her cheek in a motion that was dangerously close to a caress.

"It's not – neither is it a sign of weakness to admit that you get lonely just like the rest of us." Before he lost his nerve, he leaned forward and breathed a kiss against her temple. "People need people, Mer."

To distract herself from her thundering heartbeat and the fact that she could still feel his lips against the side of her head, Mary pulled away from his grip and said, "You're not going to burst into song, are you?"

Marshall blinked, momentarily confused until he realized that he had nearly quoted a lyric from Barbra Streisand's 'People'. He chuckled. "No, I'll leave the singing to your sister."

She groaned. "How badly did she torture you?"

"Well, she didn't get really warmed up until we started frying the latkes – before that, she was just humming. But once they were in the pan, she cranked up the radio and every song that came on that she knew the words to-"

Mary was waving her free hand. "You don't have to paint me a picture – trust me, I was treated to the 'Brandi' concert in Macy's on Black Friday. In fact, just before you showed up she and all the shoppers in the area were singing like one mass choir." She shuddered, then realizing that her hand was still clasped in his, she reluctantly let go.

Marshall took her empty tea cup and placed it in the dishwasher. Noticing that it was full, he added soap and started the wash cycle. "So, what was the song?"

"Hmm?" Mary had once again become lost in her thoughts.

"That Brandi and all the shoppers in Macy's were singing?"

"Geez, you really think I was paying attention to that sentimental drivel? I had my eyes clamped shut and blood was pouring out of my ears from the God awful racket they were all making."

"Now, that's a charming holiday picture, Mer. You should think about writing for Hallmark." His voice was laced with sarcasm but Marshall saw the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried not to smile at his quip.

"Wait, are you leaving?" she asked, noticing for the first time that he had his scarf around his neck and one arm in his coat.

"What gave me away?" he asked as he shrugged his black coat on over his shoulders. "Now that Cinderella has done her chores and cleaned up your kitchen, I should be heading home."

"But why? I thought -" she broke off, glancing nervously around her spic and span kitchen. The house was already closing in on her and he wasn't even gone yet.

Marshall looked at his partner in concern. He thought they had talked through the lunch with Peter. She had shared more than she usually did about her fears and a minute ago he had almost gotten her to smile.

Now he heard the fear and uncertainty in her voice again and it surprised him. Vulnerability was not something Mary Shannon allowed others to see in her – not even her partner of seven years. For her to allow Marshall to see that side not once but twice in one night was unprecedented.

But he had hesitated too long – she was already retreating.

"I'm sorry, you must have plans. I'll just see you tomorrow at the office, Marshall." Mary had stood and was now leaning against the island for support as she bent down to take off her work boots.

Why did she do that? Rush in to fill the silence before he had a chance to answer her question? Was she afraid he was taking too long to think? That the longer he took to formulate a response the less likely she would like his answer?

When she straightened up, she was surprised to find her partner in front of her. He reached out and gripped her elbows lightly as she focused on an area just below his neck, refusing for the first time to meet his eyes.

"Mer, tell me what you need."

For the second time that afternoon her vision blurred and she willed herself not to cry at the sound of the old, familiar words from his lips.

"Stay?" she whispered shakily.

She didn't need to look up to know he was smiling.

"Is that a question?"

She shook her head. "We could watch a movie, maybe order in something to eat." She said all this to the second button from the top of his shirt, as she was now shorter than he without her boots.

She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and she silently wondered when he had started to get so affectionate with her – and why she wasn't putting a stop to it.

"You pick the movie and I'll order the pizza."

Brandi plunged her hands into the soapy water and tried not to cry. She reminded herself that Rachel and company would be leaving on a plane tomorrow and she would have Peter all to herself again. Then they could return to life as they knew it. Peter had already promised her that they could get a Christmas tree in the next couple of days and he would help her decorate it.

A tear splashed into the dishwater and she sighed. So much for promising herself she wouldn't cry tonight.

At least her latkes had been a success – there wasn't a single one left. Even Rachel had grudgingly admitted they were "not bad – for a Gentile." Peter had rushed to her defense, saying that since he didn't even practice his faith anymore she might as well call him a Gentile too.

Things had only gone downhill from there culminating in the ultimate explosive question after the children had been dismissed from the table.

"Are you a virgin, Brandi?" Rachel sniffed.

"RACHEL!" Peter and John exclaimed, while Brandi had merely gaped at her.

"I meant, before you moved in here with my brother. Were you a virgin?" Rachel clarified, her brown eyes snapping.

Brandi flushed, but opened her mouth to answer nonetheless.

Peter reached over and covered her hand with his. "No, Hon, don't answer that. Not only is it none of my sister's business, she is being highly hypocritical in asking it!" He watched as Rachel's eyebrows rose. "Oh yes, sister dear, you may not have lived with John before you got married or slept with him but I'll not have you sit there and give the impression that you were a virgin bride!"

Brandi watched in horror as Rachel's face turned as white as the family lace tablecloth. Needing an escape, she removed her hand from Peter's and jumped up to begin clearing the table.

"Does anyone have room for dessert?" she asked shakily.

Peter couldn't help but smile at her extending the olive branch, though Rachel and John sat as if they had been turned into stone statues. Finally John met her eyes and said, "I think Rachel and I will go for a drive, if you and Peter wouldn't mind watching the children for awhile?"

That had been nearly an hour ago. Peter had gone to play the usual Hanukkah games with his nephews and nieces while she had insisted on washing up. She really just wanted the time to herself to think and perhaps have a good cry. She sighed. Peter was such a wonderful man and it still amazed her that he loved her and wanted to be with her. Their differences hadn't seemed that great until his sister had shown up. Perhaps they really were-

Her thoughts were interrupted by two arms sliding around her waist. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, Mss Brandi Shannon?" Peter whispered in ear.

She sighed and relaxed back into his arms. She was wearing a soft blue silk dress, modest in style but it still hugged her curves and accentuated her assets. Peter had given it to her on the first night of Hanukkah. Rachel had sniffed and said it was a very special dress and should have been saved for the last night. Peter had laughed and said if he had done that he wouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing her wear it during Hanukkah.

"I'm glad you like the dress – my boyfriend has excellent tastes, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does – and not just in clothes." Peter pressed his cheek to hers and she felt him start when he felt the dampness. "Tears, my love?" he sighed.

She shivered at the endearment. "I – there must be a raw onion in here somewhere."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Come on, leave the rest of the dishes to soak. The children want to give you their presents."

"Shouldn't we wait?"

He shook his head. "It's getting late and they're tired of waiting."

She dried her hands on the dishcloth and Peter grabbed her hand, leading her down the hall to the sunken living room where his sister's offspring attacked her the moment they saw her.

Brandi allowed them to lead her to the place of honor – the big armchair by the roaring fire. Hannah, the youngest at four, leaped into her lap and cuddled close. Brandi looked up at Peter who was leaning against the doorway, watching the whole scene with a grin on his face.

"Are you sure we can't keep her?"

"I think John would object."

She sighed as she stroked Hannah's soft curls. Oh well, maybe one day we'll have one of our own. Though the thought surprised her, it didn't create a feeling of panic. Before she could analyze it further, the rest of the children were in front of her chair pressing little boxes into her hands.

"We made them-" Samuel said.

"Today! Lydia helped since she's the oldest-" Jesse continued.

"But we each made one all by ourselves!" Samuel finished.

Brandi giggled. Samuel and Jesse were six year old twin boys and always finished each other's sentences. Some people found it annoying but she thought it was adorable.

"I'm sure I'll love what you each made," she reassured the boys.

"I just hope the glue had a chance to dry and didn't get stuck to the gift paper, Aunt Brandi," Lydia said.

Brandi smiled at Rachel's oldest. Lydia had started calling her 'Aunt Brandi' five minutes after she had met her – much to the consternation of her mother.

Hannah wiggled on her lap. "Open! Open now, Miss Brandi!"

Laughing in delight, she gave Hannah a squeeze and proceeded to do just that. Once all four little packages were opened she held a Star of David, a dreidel, a Menorah, and a Torah scroll.

"Do you like them, Aunt Brandi?" Lydia whispered.

"They're for your Christmas tree-" Samuel cried.

"Uncle Peter said you're getting one-" Jesse said.

"soon. I wish we could stay and help you decorate it!"

Brandi nodded. "I do too – and yes I love them. Thank you very much." She opened her arms and the children crowded close for a hug. "I love you guys," she whispered.

It was Lydia who answered for all of them. "We love you too, Aunt Brandi."

The sound of a throat clearing broke apart the tight circle. Everyone turned to see that Rachel and John had joined Peter in the doorway. Rachel did not look pleased to see her children in such a loving moment with Brandi.

"It's time for bed," Rachel announced.

The children groaned but followed their mother from the room, little Hannah placing a kiss on Brandi's lips as she slipped from her lap. Peter sat on the arm of her chair and looked at John who was still standing in the doorway, fidgeting with his hat.

"I am sorry, brother, for the way Rachel has been acting. I should have spoken to her sooner." He looked Brandi directly in the eyes. "I am very sorry for the things she has said to upset you, Miss Shannon, and I hope that you will forgive her."

Brandi's eyes filled with tears. "I just don't understand what I did to make her hate me so much."

John looked at her with compassion. "I don't think she does. She's terrified of losing Peter – that he'll slip back to his old demon ways."

Brandi felt Peter tense beside her and she laid a comforting hand on his knee.

"That was long before I ever met Brandi – and it's over and done! She is the woman I love, John, and I'm a better man with her by my side." Peter put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"I've got plenty of skeletons in my closet, John," Brandi said shakily, "but those are days are behind me too. I love Peter, he takes care of me and in return I make him laugh – so he isn't so serious all the time." She poked her lover in the ribs and looked up at him with a fond smile.

John looked at the couple and gave a slow nod. "I will tell Rachel what you have said. I think it will ease her heart and mind. Good night."

Brandi collapsed back into the arm chair as John's footsteps echoed in the hallway.

"Relax and put your feet up, Hon, while I get you some dessert."

"Oh Peter, I don't think I could eat another bite."

"You hardly touched your dinner tonight." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Besides, it's part of my Hanukkah present to you tonight."

"Oh no! You've given me so much already."

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the sofa. Covering her legs with a blanket, he pressed another kiss to the top of her head and said, "Now don't you go anywhere – I'll be right back."

Brandi snuggled into the warmth of the afghan and lost herself in the light of the flames from the fireplace. Before she knew it, he was back, bearing a Rugalach cookie on a glass plate. He placed her feet in his lap and offered the plate to her with a little bow and a smile. She looked from him to the delicious apricot filled crescent pastry and sighed.

"I really shouldn't, Peter. Do you know how many calories I've had this week? Everything is fried! Potato pancakes, donuts, even cookies! Who made up the Hanukkah menu – children? My sister?"

Peter laughed and rubbed one of her feet under the blanket. "So don't eat it – just break it apart." His voice had taken on a husky quality and she thought she noticed a slight tremor to it as well.

She tilted her head. "It's not that type of cookie, Peter."

He stopped rubbing her foot and leveled his hazel eyes at her. "Break open the cookie, Brandi."

Now it was her fingers that were trembling slightly as she reached out and picked up the Rugalach from the plate. With one last questioning look at her boyfriend, she broke the flaky crescent and dropped her eyes down to see what surprise lay within.

"Oh Peter!" she breathed, taking in the sight of the very large diamond ring winking up at her from the apricot filling. Her eyes flew back to his. "Are you sure?"

He took the plate from her hands before she dropped it. "That's not the reaction I was expecting – of course I'm sure. How could you even ask me that?"

Tears were spilling down Brandi's cheeks. "Because of this last week – because of everything your sister has said! I'm not Jewish and I don't even go to Mass anymore. We're going to really confuse our children – are they going to be Jewish or Catholic? And I don't know that I want to be a stay at home mom – not that I've ever had a full time job, but I'm trying to get the masseuse shop going and I don't want to abandon it now. I mean, what would be the point of trying to be a housewife like your sister? I can't cook – the potato pancakes were a lucky break and Marshall helped me more than he'll ever admit. And I can't even wash clothes without the whites coming out pink!" Brandi's words came to a halt as she hiccupped.

"Hush, my love, take a deep breath," Peter whispered. His hands cupped her face and his thumbs wiped her tears away. "I don't want you to change. I don't want you to start attending mass or for you drag me to the synagogue every Shabbat. I would be miserable if you did that! You had to help me find my yarmulke before Rachel got here, remember? It was buried in a box of family stuff in the attic – so I'm not exactly the good little Jewish boy, am I?" He chuckled. "Of course I want you to follow your dream and open the masseuse shop. And we have Mrs. Schneider who comes in three times a week to do light housework and laundry, remember? So you don't have to even worry about those things."

Brandi giggled. "What about the cooking?"

"We haven't starved, have we? Your potato pancakes were delicious, Brandi. But if you're worried about your culinary skills, maybe you could take some cooking classes."

Her eyes brightened. "That might be fun!"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "But do it for you, my love, not for me, or Rachel, or anyone else. I love you just the way you are – I'm sure of that. I'm also sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if he was going to let her in on a secret. "Want to know something else I'm sure of?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I'm sure that I want to have a little Hannah of our own with you – with your dancing eyes and sense of humor."

"I knew that was what I wanted the day I moved in here with you!" Brandi breathed out softly.

"And don't think this means that I'm against the idea of a little Samuel or Jesse, because I'm not!" Peter continued hastily. "Though it would be nice to have our children one at a time because twins-"

He broke off suddenly as her words registered in his brain, his eyes flying to hers. Brandi bit her lip to keep another giggle from escaping.

"Was that a yes?"

"I don't know, Peter, was there a proposal in there somewhere?"

He cocked his head questioningly before he burst out laughing. "You're right – I never did ask you properly, did I? Let's fix that." He plucked the diamond ring from the Rugalach and shook off the sticky filling that clung to the setting. Kneeling beside the sofa, he held the ring up between them.

"Brandi Elizabeth Shannon, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?"

"I will."

Peter grinned and slipped the ring on her finger. "I'm sorry it's still sticky."

She leaned forward and captured his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his. "I don't care. Happy Hanukkah, love."

He breathed the words against her lips before capturing her mouth again, "Merry Christmas, darling."

Aww- wasn't that sweet? This marks the halfway point in my Christmas story, and the best is still to come! Reviews are LOVE!