Disclaimer:

For anyone deciding to proceed, may it be known that Trixie Belden, and all of her wonderful friends, take-up residence at Random House, in a magical world known as Golden Books. Sadly, I am not a part of Trixie's world, and the words following are simply a tribute, meant to help preserve her memory. In my world, I am not a professional writer, and no money will come from this project. I am just another fan with an imagination, who longs for a new Trixie mystery.

Thank you!


Chapter 1: Blackmail!

"But you just gotta holp me!" Bobby Belden pleaded, pulling on his sister's arm. "You just gotta! If you don't, you'll ruin Reddy'th whole entire Chrithmath! You don't wanna ruin Reddy'th Chrithmath, do you?"

Fourteen-year-old Trixie heaved a heavy sigh and shook her arm free. Reddy was the family's rambunctious Irish Setter. And as far as Miss Belden was concerned, Bobby had to be the most annoying pest on Earth!

"For pity's sake, Bobby. Why don't you buy Reddy something less expensive?" Trixie moaned as she walked the first-grader home from the bus stop. "Mr. Lytell carries all kinds of dog toys in his shop. Does it have to be that ridiculous polka-dot pig?"

"But it oinkth when you thqueeth it!" the little boy argued with a lisp. "Ith the betheth thing in the whole wide thore! Bethidth, I gave Mr. Lytell all my money to hold it on thomthing Mart called layaway. I gotta give Mr. Lytell the reth of the money by next Monday, or he'll thell the pig to thumbbody elth. Thatth only five and a halfth dayth away! Mart told me Mr. Lytell will keep my money too. Tho I can't get nuthin elth," he added dramatically.

Trixie clutched her blonde curls and rolled her round blue eyes. This is what she got for talking her middle brother Mart into taking Bobby Christmas shopping. Moms had asked her to do it. But no, Trixie had wanted to go ice skating with her two best friends, Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch.

"Look, Bobby," Trixie told him as they stopped by the mailbox. "I don't have time to look for your missing teeth. And I'm sure Honey doesn't either. We're too busy with the food drive and helping Moms with your school play cast party. I'm sorry. Really I am."

As the exaggerating girl pulled a handful of red envelopes out of the box, Bobby plopped down in the snow and began to cry. "You're not thorry," he sobbed, wiping his eyes with the back of his mittens. "I thought Bob-Whiteth were thuppothed to holp people?"

The Bob-Whites of the Glen was Trixie's club. Her two older brothers, Brian and Mart, were members too. As were her girl friends, Honey and Di, and Honey's adopted brother Jim Frayne and the Wheeler's groom's nephew Dan Mangan. And Bobby was right. The B.W.G.s primary purpose was to help those in need.

Only Bobby's guilt trip wasn't working. And right now, Trixie's biggest concern was getting the distraught boy into the farmhouse before he caught a cold.

"You don't luv me and Reddy!" he continued to sob as his sister pulled him to his feet. "And I take it back. You're not the betheth detective in all of Theepythide!"

Sleepyside was the town where the Belden family and their friends lived. Actually, they resided just outside of the small New York community in the rolling countryside. But Trixie and Honey were quite well known in the area for their investigative skills. The two girls had solved a number of puzzling cases. One day, they planned on opening the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency. Bobby had come to Trixie hoping to enlist the girls' unique talents.

"Look, Bob," Trixie said as a dribble of snot ran from his nose. "I'd give you the two dollars myself, but I just don't have it. Every penny of this week's allowance went to my Bob-White dues. I'm broke until next week, and I'll need every penny of those five dollars to buy my own Christmas presents. Maybe Brian or Mart will loan you the money?"

"Mart don't got it either," Bobby trembled as his sister took his hand to hurry him along. "And Momth told Brian noth to give it to me. Momth thill real mad that Mith Elephant called her." Miss Elliman was Bobby's teacher at Washington Irving Elementary school.

"Well, it serves you right," his sister grouched impatiently. "First off, you know better than to call Miss Elliman 'Miss Elephant'. And secondly, you shouldn't have pulled out your front teeth to get the extra money you need. Smooth move, Einstein."

Bobby pinched his face and planted his feet. "But I luv elephanth! And my two tooth were already looth!" he cried in self-defense. "The plan woulda worked if I hadn't loth 'em. The tooth fairy woulda left a whole two dollarth and fifty thenth under my pillow. I woulda even had thome left! Maybe then I coulda got you a gift."

Trixie grumbled. The 'tooth fairy" hadn't been nearly so generous in her day. Worse, Bobby sure had some nerve! Imagine. Asking his sweet big sister to find his "lothed" teeth when getting the silly dog a present was more important than getting her one?

But as Moms stepped out on Crabapple Farm's front porch, calling that she had hot chocolate waiting, the pair of hoodlums raced for the door.


The Belden's warm kitchen was the heart of their home. Donned in her festive apron, Mrs. Belden was in the midst of holiday baking when Trixie and Bobby rushed in. Mart and Brian, seated at the round oak table, sipping their cocoa, were discussing the Bob-Whites' upcoming food drive.

Brian, the oldest of the Belden children at seventeen, had brown eyes and dark wavy hair like his father. Mart, however, took after his mother's side of the family, like Trixie and Bobby. He was only one year older than his sister, and the two looked so much like that people often thought they were twins. To help counter this, Mart kept his sandy locks buzzed close to his head in a crew cut.

Come Saturday morning, the two boys and the other Bob-Whites planned to go door to door handing out flyers for the local food pantry. This year, the cost of groceries was rising, as was the number of people needing assistance. This was especially true among the elderly on fixed incomes and families with numerous mouths to feed.

Sadly, though, this same inflation meant people's donations were down. And Allen Osbourne, who ran Cans for Care out of the church's basement, had reached out to the B.G.W.s for help. Mr. Osbourne was a mechanic down at Ansley Motors. He was new in town. And Al, as he was better known down at the station, devoted his off hours to the charitable organization.

"Mr. Osbourne says the flyers will be ready Friday afternoon," Brian was telling Mart. "I figure Bob, and I can swing by the printer and pick them up on our way home from the elementary school."

On Friday, Brian planned to drive the Jalopy, his rattle-trap car, to school rather than catch the bus. The oldest Belden boy was skipping his afternoon classes to help out his parents.

Miss Elliman had scheduled the children's final play rehearsal for one o'clock that afternoon, and Reddy, the Belden's big Irish setter, was in the play and needed to attend. Only Moms' garden club was holding its annual Christmas Party that day. And Daddy was tied up with meetings at the Bank. So Brian had volunteered to step in. At noon Trixie's big brother intended to run home, collect Reddy, and then transport the big dog to the elementary school auditorium.

"A superb idea," Mart returned, wiping away his chocolate mustache with a paper napkin. "Your ratiocination is unarguable, as always, dear brother." Mart liked to use big words, not only to impress people but also to confound them. But Brian was the most sensible of the Belden siblings and Bob-Whites.

As Trixie and Bobby pulled out chairs at the table in front of steaming Santa mugs filled with hot goodness, Moms paused to refill a small plate with cookies.

"Just one!" she warned as her littlest reached for a big handful. "I don't want you ruining your supper, young man."

As Bobby groaned, Trixie asked Mart to please pass the bag of marshmallows. Then, after helping herself to a snowball cookie, Miss Belden let the delicious morsel melt in her mouth. Crabapple Farm was like Heaven at Christmas!

But it reminded Trixie that her family was fortunate to have enough to eat – especially such delicious treats. Though they weren't wealthy like their good neighbors, the Wheelers and Lynches, the Beldens made enough to make ends meet. It helped that Daddy worked at the bank in Sleepyside and brought home a good paycheck. But Moms, a stay-at-home mother, did her fair share to support the family, too.

Mrs. Belden cared for the children and the house. She also tended the vegetable garden and the farm's small orchard, which allowed the family to stock the cupboards with canning jars filled with yummy fruits and vegetables. The Belden's also kept a coop full of chickens for eggs and the occasional stewing.

"Are people supposed to drop off their donations at the Methodist church downtown?" Trixie asked Brian between sips of her rich cocoa.

"They're welcome to, Trix," he returned. "Dad's bank and Mr. Lynch's office are designated drop-off points too. But to make it easier on people and hopefully encourage them to donate, Jim and I will retrace our footsteps in the Bob-White station wagon the following week to collect everyone's contributions. All people have to do is leave their filled bags and boxes on their porches."

"But all of this will be conveyed in the literature," Mart added. "A phone number will also be provided should citizens find themselves on the opposite side of the spectrum."

"Meaning they need food, right, Brainiac?" Trixie asked.

"Correctamundo," the middle boy returned.

When Bobby tried sneaking another cookie, Moms ordered him to his room. "And no video games. You're grounded until Christmas," she reminded him as the little boy tossed down his napkin and pushed his chair from the table. "Mart will be up shortly to help you rehearse for the play."


After Brian and Mart had finished their afternoon snacks and departed, Trixie helped her mother by clearing the kitchen table and washing the empty mugs. "You should see the stack of R.S.P.V.s that came in the mail today for Bob's cast party, Moms," she said, drying the last of the dishes. "I left them on the bench by the door. Would you like me to get them? I'd be glad to open them for you. I'm curious to know how many people are coming."

"If you wouldn't mind," Moms sighed, pushing back a stray lock of hair. "If I don't get this baking done, I fear the party will be as big a fiasco as the play. Honestly, couldn't that child have waited until after the production to pull out his teeth? I don't know how Miss Elliman expects people to understand a word he says. It wouldn't be so bad if Bobby didn't have the lead part. But I suppose it's too late to recast him." The play was Sunday afternoon, only four days away. The cast party, which was being held at Crabapple farm, was to follow the show.

But as far as Trixie was concerned, her little brother should never have gotten the part in the first place. "Bobby's not a great actor, to begin with," she scoffed. "Mart says that when Bob can't remember his lines, he makes things up. He's only starring in the production because he promised Miss Elliman that Reddy could play Rex. And we all know the only person that silly dog obeys is Bobby. Well, sort of obeys," Trixie added hesitantly.

When the timer on the oven went off, right on cue, Mrs. Belden groaned. "That's another disaster just waiting in the wings," she admitted. "Miss Elliman should have cast one of the children to play the part of Rex. Making a dog suit would be no more difficult than sewing a Mr. Grouch outfit."

Trixie giggled. "At least it promises to be an entertaining afternoon," she said. "Last year's play was a real snoozer."

This year, Miss Elliman's first-grade class was performing everyone's holiday favorite, How the Grouch Snowballed Christmas. In the delightful tale, a furry blue something-or-other named Mr. Grouch tries to ruin everyone's Christmas by raising prices and creating a supply-chain deficit. Living alone high in the mountains has frozen Mr. Grouch's conscience, you see. Not only is he mean and greedy, but he hates anyone being happy. And as we all know, most something-or-others are happiest at Christmas time.

So, devising a devious plan, Mr. Grouch dresses as Santa and puts reindeer antlers on his dog Rex. The big wet-blanket then heads down to the quaint village of Yousville in a huge red sleigh with his "reindeer" dog.

From shop to shop, they then go with glee, where the Grouch lets wee Yous sit on his knee. He promises them wheezles, and tweezles, and lox. Everything, anything, which comes in a box.

But then, when it's dark, and the Yous leave the stores, the old Grouch sneaks back in via windows and doors! With his sticker-filled gun, he raises things' prices. Then hacks the computers and ups them again twices. Only when through, and the we-wants-its cost zillions, does the Grouch fill his big bag with near half a million!

But on his last stop, the old Grouch does awake, a tiny sweet You, much by mistake. Mindy-Sue You lives over the mart. And though she is sweet, she sure isn't smart. Acting like Santa, the Grouch tells her lies, then jumps in his sleigh to take to the sky. For sweet little Mindy has filled it with eats. She even gave "Santa" the Yous' Christmas beets!

So come Christmas day, as he crawls out of bed, the big hairy monster believes Christmas is dead. But from far down in Yousville comes a sweet noise. The laughter of Yous without any toys! They're singing and dancing and wiggling their thump-its. They're banging on pans and playing their trumpets!

And in this warm moment, the Grouch's conscience does thaw. He hadn't killed Christmas, no, not at all! It wasn't about presents and good things to eat. Yous didn't need wants-its and boiled Christmas beets. Christmas was friendship. Peace, love, and glee! So the Grouch went to Yousville and danced 'round their tree.

At the end of the play, Bobby, as Mr. Grouch, is to wish everyone in the audience "Merry Christmas". Only in the child's current condition, Trixie was sure it would come out more like "Merry Chrithmath", and she laughed. Yes, indeed, it promised to be a great show!

But then the young girl grimaced again, thinking of Bobby's current predicament. "Miss Elliman should have asked Mr. Lytell to be Mr. Grouch!" she told her mother. "The nerve of him stealing a poor child's money and calling it "layaway". Why I'm surprised Daddy didn't march right down to that dusty old store and give Mr. Lytell a piece of his mind!"

As Moms slid the latest batch of cookies onto a sheet of newspaper to cool, she said, "Your father and I are hoping to teach your little brother a lesson. Bobby is old enough to understand, "buyer beware". The world is full of people like Mr. Lytell, I'm afraid. I hope Bob will also learn to be more careful with his things. That child would lose his head if it weren't attached. Did he tell you he lost his milk money the same day he misplaced his teeth?"

Trixie rolled her eyes. "No, he neglected to mention that lovely detail," she said. Trixie wondered if her brother had actually lost the money or if Bob was squirreling it away to put it toward Reddy's gift. "He did ask if Honey and I would look for his teeth," she revealed. "Bobby's under the impression that the "Tooth Fairy" will still cough up the two dollars he needs for that ridiculous pig if we can track them down by Monday. I mean, really? After pulling out those silly things intentionally? I told Bobby that Honey and I were much too busy to go off on some wild goose chase."

Mrs. Belden smirked in a way that only a good mother would. "Well, I happen to be close friends with the Tooth Fairy," she said. "And it seems to me they have a bit of a soft spot when it comes to devious children. It wouldn't hurt if you helped your brother look for them, would it?" she asked after a pause. "After all, Bob wouldn't be in this mess if you'd taken him shopping, as I asked."

"But, Moms!" Trixie wailed dramatically, flopping back in her chair. "Do I have to? I don't see Mart trying to find those stupid things. Besides, Bobby's not even convinced he lost them. He thinks it's possible somebody may have stolen them. Granted, first-graders do a lot of dumb stuff. But nab a pair of bloody teeth? For what reason? "

Mrs. Belden had no answer. And she was far too worn out to bicker. "The decision is yours," she concluded with a sigh. "I certainly can't argue that there's plenty to do before Sunday's party. So why don't you get those R.S.V.P.s, and let's see how many people we can expect? With any luck, maybe I can hang up my apron until time to start dinner. I'm afraid your dear mother is about cookied-out."


After supper that night, Moms returned to the kitchen and again pulled out her mixing bowls. The stack of R.S.V.P.'s, or répondez, s'il vous plait, as Mart had called them, had contained only one decline. The Greene family would be unable to attend.

All of the children in the play, as well as the adults and volunteers assisting with the production, had been invited to the cast party. And Mrs. Belden had made sure that the inventions read, "family and guests welcome".

The shindig promised to be as big, if not bigger, than the Belden's annual Thanksgiving Day open house. And this had a lot to do with Bobby inviting everyone he knew to the show and party as his "guest". The little boy's verbal invites included the Bob-Whites and the entire staff at Manor House, where Honey and Jim lived. Bobby even told Regan, the Wheeler's groom, he could bring the horses.

Regan, of course, had laughed. But while the red-headed stableman did say that he wouldn't think of missing the festivities, he noted that Jupiter and the other horses would have to stay home. The party started after their bedtime.

Recalling the humorous incident caused Trixie to snicker. At least Moms could cross hay and fancy sugar cubes off the menu.

"Are you sure I can't frost the gingerbread men for you?" she asked, putting away the last of the dinner dishes and wiping down the countertop. For supper, Mrs. Belden had whipped up a cheesy casserole from hash-browned potatoes, peas, and ground beef. Not only had it been yummy-yum, but clean-up had been a whiz as it was a one-dish meal, and there'd been no leftovers.

"No, no," Moms said as she thumbed through her recipe box. "Homework first. I don't want to see another C minus in history this semester. If you get done in time, I may have you roll your brothers' socks. I'm afraid I didn't get to it this afternoon. The clothes basket is still sitting on top of the dryer."

Trixie frowned. She'd been hoping to get out of studying by volunteering to ice the cookies. Putting smiles on their aromatic faces was fun. Reading about the Great Depression and the New Deal was, well, depressing. Only the young lady's plan had backfired. There were worse things than doing her schoolwork, like housework. Only helping around the house and watching Bobby is why she got an allowance. And for the first time, Trixie felt a pang of guilt for weaseling out of taking the child shopping. "Consider it done, Moms," she sighed.


Only Trixie's guilt would be short-lived. Snagging her history book off her bed, the resigned teen went to her desk and snapped on her study lamp. Three mind-numbing pages into her assignment, Trixie heard a knock at her door.

"Who is it?" she mumbled without glancing up.

"Itth me, Bobby," came the muffled voice. "Can I come in?"

Trixie huffed and rubbed her aching temple. "Go away," she returned with irritation. "I'm studying. And I already told you, I'm not looking for your teeth, Bob."

There was a quiet moment, and Trixie assumed the child had returned to his room. Only then she heard a second voice. "You may wish to hear Master Robert out," Mart Belden cautioned.

"Uh-oh," Trixie thought. Her middle brother's warning meant that Bobby was up to something. And if Mart was involved, it couldn't be good.

"The doors open," the boys' sister said.

As Mart and his mini look-a-like entered her room, both grinning like cats that'd just swallowed canaries, Trixie gulped. It was almost as if she'd sprouted yellow feathers, and Bobby was eye-balling her next.

"What's up?" she asked nervously.

"Mart and me got thumthing to tell you," Bobby ventured, displaying his upper hand both figurative and literally. The lad was waving a small sheet of paper in the air. "If you don't holpth me find my teeth, Mart and me are givin' thith to Jim."

Trixie instantly recognized the moon and stars printed at the top of the page. "But that's blackmail!" she cried, slamming her book shut.

"Nuha," Bobby returned, giggling. "It'th not mail. It'th a page from your journal! "