Declan stares at her, and his smile fades. “You can't be serious. She dresses beautifully.”
“Yes, but those hand me downs from Reagan, and I thought for Christmas you could get her a few dresses of her own.”
“I don’t understand?”
Dillon leans forward, “Reagan would toss dresses at her, “Mouse, take this and see if you can squeeze into it, or Mouse, this color looks dreadful on me, but you don’t care what you look like or Mouse despite the shape of your face…”
“I get the picture,” he growls interrupting her, and his hands are balled up into fists. “I’ve wondered why she doesn’t seem to realize how beautiful she is. This explains a great deal, Dillon. Thank you,” he says hoarsely.
“Her beauty was hidden for so long that she forgot what it felt like to be London. You’ve given that back to her, thank you,” Dillon wipes a stray tear and stands up.
“She’s lucky to have a friend like you,” Declan states.
“We are lucky to have found each other.” She hands him a card with an address on it. “There is a new designer on third street. She’s by appointment only. I’d suggest surprising London. It always shocks me how hardheaded she can be.”
Declan takes the card and nods his head. “I’ll make sure she has everything she needs.”
“I knew you would,” Dillon smiles and stops at the door. “London has challenged Matthew to a game of Chess.”
“Oh, let’s go, I don’t want to miss this.” He is laughing as they hurry down the hall to the family room.
Dillon smothers a giggle, “The first time I watched her play, we were twelve. It was amazing!”
They enter, and London is already sitting comfortably across from Matthew. She is pretending to listen as he explains the pieces.
“This one that looks like a horse is called a knight,” he says.
“Matthew, I used to play with my father. I know the pieces, though I’m not a quick as I used to be.”
“I see. Well, don’t worry. I’ll take it easy on you.” Matthew glares at his grandson when he snorts.
Elliot sits down with Dillon tucked into his side, and they watch in awe as London plays Matthew. The game lasts for forty minutes until the maid announces dinner is ready.
“I’m starving, London, finish this,” Declan demands.
Matthew looks incredulous as London puts him in checkmate. Elliot and Dillon follow Declan to the dining room as Matthew offers an arm to London. “That was amazing. I’ll get you next time.”
“I’d be honored to play you any time, Matthew.”
“When are you coming home, London?” Dillon asks after everyone is seated.
“We are leaving in three days unless we get more snow,” Declan says.
London glances at Declan in surprise. “I thought we’d have longer.”
“I promise a return trip soon, but I'd like to spend our first Christmas at home.” He glances at her to gauge her feelings.
“Of course,” she glances at Dillon.
“I'm glad you're coming home. I miss my best friend,” she squeezes Elliot's hand, and he smiles.
“I miss you too,” she smiles and falls quiet as they talk around her.
Matthew watches and isn’t surprised by her feelings. “I imagine it’s frightening for you to go back,” he says, and the table falls quiet.
“A bit,” London glances at him with a small smile. “You’re very perceptive.”
“With the Hubbard's in jail, what is there to fear?” Elliot asks.
“Of course, your right. I'm sure it's just jitters,” London says, hoping to change the subject. “Do you cut your own Christmas tree, or do you have it brought in?” she asks.
Declan watches and feels like an idiot. They will discuss this when they are alone. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I cut it down,” he teases. “What kind of woodworker would hire out a job like that?”
Everyone laughs, and they discuss the best place to get their tree. Excitement begins to build as Dillon and her talk about decorating for Christmas. “What are your family traditions for Christmas, Declan?” London asks.
“Grandfather? Would you like to share the traditions?” Declan says.
“You’re in for a treat, London. We love to decorate the house, fill it with the sights and sounds of the holiday. My favorite is by far the nativity.”
“No, it’s the food,” Declan teases.
“The food is second,” Matthew tries to say.
“No, cook starts baking after Thanksgiving, and the house smells amazing,” Declan teases.
They listen as Matthew recounts a few childhood stories of growing up in England. “What about you, London, any childhood traditions?” Matthew asks.
Her eyes glaze over, “Mother used to hide packets amongst the tree branches, filled with fruit and nuts. Daddy and I would pretend to fight over them, but he’d always let me win,” she smiles wistfully.
Declan takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “My favorite was the Koledna Pitka,” she murmurs. “The honey bread, I'd forgotten,” her eyes widen. Joy fills her gaze, “Mother would hide a coin inside and braid the bread to look like a wreath.”
“What was the coin for?” Dillon asks.
“Whoever finds the silver coin should expect good luck in the coming year.”
“You will have to make it for us,” Declan declares.
Memories filter in of happy Christmas mornings, and she grips his hand tightly. “I'd like that.”
“Would anyone like some hot chocolate,” London asks and jumps up. “Anyone else, or tea?” London takes orders and hurries out of the room, desperate to find some solitude. The kitchen is quiet as she fills the tea kettle and sets work heating up the stove.
“Need some help.”
“Declan,” she sighs and turns to look at him. He moves to the stove, and they work quietly together.
“Are you
