Candlelight Christmas

2 to 3 teaspoons milk

? teaspoon vanilla extract

3 to 4 drops red food color

Beat granulated sugar and butter in large bowl with electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add egg and vanilla; mix well. Gradually beat in dry ingredients on low speed until well mixed. Refrigerate dough two hours or overnight until firm.

Preheat oven to 375°. Roll out dough on lightly floured surface to ?-inch thickness. Cut into humanoid shapes with gingerbread-person cookie cutters. Place on parchment-lined baking sheets.

Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool completely.

For the icing, mix all ingredients except food color. Divide white icing into two small cups, and use the red drops to dye one lot blood red.

Use the white icing to create mummy bandages, and the red to create wounds and bloody stumps. Use decorative sprinkles and red hots liberally.

[Source: Freely adapted from McCormick Spice collection.]

Chapter Twelve

Logan was uncharacteristically nervous the day the O’Donnell clan arrived for the holidays. He was on edge, so he worked it off by shoveling the front walkway until he felt himself starting to sweat. The house looked good, he told himself. Not designer-magazine good like his folks’ place in Florida, but like a Christmas house, from the icicle-draped roofline of the front porch to the strings of colored lights lining the gables to the fresh tree in the front window, which he and the kids had decorated the day of Charlie’s arrival.

It would be the first Christmas he’d hosted for the family, and he wanted it to be just right. The big house at Saddle Mountain had plenty of room for everyone. It would be a relief to fill the upper rooms with guests. The place was just too damn big.

They all pulled into the driveway at once. Three SUVs disgorged his parents, his sisters and their families, on a frigid day the week before Christmas.

“Come on, Charlie, Andre, Angelica,” Logan called. “Get your coats and boots on, and you can help with the luggage.”

“Excellent,” said Charlie. “The cousins are here.” He was supercharged with excitement. They all tumbled outside into the bright, cold day. There were greetings and hugs all around.

His niece Bernie bounded through the deep snow. “You live in Christmas-land, Uncle Logan.”

He grinned and spread his arms wide. “I guess I do. You’re going to love it here.”

“Are you kidding? I already do.” She and her sister Nan toted their pink backpacks up the walk.

His mother took charge the way she always did. Once his parents had agreed to spend the holidays here instead of in Florida, Marion O’Donnell embraced her matriarchal duties. She directed everyone to their rooms and brought tons of decorations in big plastic tubs.

Logan’s heart flipped over when he saw Darcy Fitzgerald walking up to his house, toting a big duffel bag. The smile she gave him was guarded.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself. Hope you don’t mind taking in a stray for the holidays.” She offered a bright smile.

Damn. He liked her smile. “Are you kidding? Some of my best friends are strays. Come on in where it’s warm. I’ve got hot cocoa and spiced cider.”

“Two of my favorite things.”

He wanted to know about all of her favorite things, but he felt his chances slipping away. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since their brief encounter at the train station. Their quick exchange of text messages had left him in a quandary. He had simply wanted her to understand that Maya and he were definitely not an item. The way she was regarding him now was a bit cryptic, just like the text she’d sent him. On second thought, the text wasn’t cryptic at all. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend.

Once everyone was in the house, chaos ruled. The kids ran around exploring, admiring the tree he had put up, and sorting out the bunk bed situation in the kids’ room. Andre and Angelica seemed to be doing all right so far. It was incredibly gratifying to see them embracing the holidays, far from the city, far from their mom. They each had a part in the annual Christmas pageant at Heart of the Mountains Church. When Maureen and Eddie Haven, the pageant directors, heard Angelica sing, they immediately asked if she’d like to do a solo, “Sleep My Baby,” on Christmas morning. The little girl had been practicing nonstop.

They were already taking ski lessons at the resort, too. Andre was a natural, eagerly learning the new sport. Angelica was more cautious, but happy to try getting down the hill on her skis, making little snowplow turns.

Charlie had arrived a couple days before, and the moment he’d seen his son, Logan’s world had felt complete. He was grateful for the ease with which they fell into their roles, like putting on warm, comfortable boots. Having Andre and Angelica there was great, lending a sense of family energy the house had been missing. Charlie hadn’t been out on the slopes yet but was dying to go. Tomorrow morning, Logan had promised.

Dinner was a free-for-all, supervised by the sisters and his mom. Logan’s famous chili was the main dish, and he was gratified to see how fast it disappeared.

“I’m proud of your cooking,” his mother said. “You’re really great at it.”

“Hear that, Charlie? I’m a great cook.”

“Good to know,” replied Charlie.

“Be sure you tell Santa how good I’ve been.”

“Santa,” squealed the nieces. “When do we get to see Santa?”

“Tomorrow, after skiing,” Logan said. “The big guy has a life-size gingerbread cottage in town, and then there’s a Christmas parade.”

“I want everything for Christmas,” announced his nephew Fisher.

“You can’t have everything,” said his brother, Goose.

“But I can want everything.”

Logan chuckled. “Yo, I like the way you think.”

“How come your name’s Goose?” asked Angelica.

“It’s a nickname, on account of Mom’s favorite movie.”

“Top Gun. She watches it at night when she thinks we’re asleep, and cries every time Goose crashes his plane,” Fisher explained.

“Hey,” said India, blushing bright red.

“You are so busted,” said Bilski.

“What’s your real name?” asked Angelica.

“Reginald, and you can blame my dad. It’s his dad’s name.” Goose made a funny face.

“My real name is Emile,” Charlie interjected.

Logan touched his chest. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t get a vote. I’m just glad you have a cool middle name.”

“I’m gonna tell them at ski school tomorrow to call you Reginald,” said Fisher.

“Are not,” Goose retorted.

“Watch me.”

“Nobody’s doing anything if you kids don’t get to bed and simmer down,” said India. “I’ll take bedtime duty tonight.”

Groans erupted, but with impressive efficiency, she herded them all down the hall to the bunk room. In the ensuing quiet, Logan added logs to the fire and put on soft, jazzy music. His father made Irish coffee for everyone,