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rushing their way. The older one, a pretty woman
with red-gold hair shot through with silver, called out his name.
Handing the wriggling boy to the younger woman, Thomas stepped
forward, his arms out.
    “I thought you weren’t coming,” Felicity
Blackstone said, stepping into her son’s hug.
    “I had a change of heart.” Thomas hugged her
tight.
    “I’m so glad.” Felicity smiled up at her son,
then her blue eyes opened wide. “My heavens. What happened to you?”
Her fingers lightly brushed the cut on the side of his head. “And
your clothes. You look like a drowned cat.”
    “That’s very nearly the truth.” Thomas
disengaged himself from his mother’s embrace. “We had sort of an
accident on the way here.” He reached out and grabbed hold of
Margaret’s hand, pulling her toward him.
    For the first time Felicity noticed her son’s
companion. “My goodness. What happened? No,” she contradicted
herself. “Don’t tell me now. You should clean up first. And get
warm.”
    “That would be nice.” Thomas smiled. “Mother,
this is Margaret Howe Lewis,” he hesitated only a moment. “A friend
of mine. Maggie, this is my mother and my sister, Merry. Master
John here is one of her numerous offspring.”
    Margaret barely had enough time to
acknowledge the introductions before she was hugged to Felicity’s
ample breast. “Oh, you poor dear. Come upstairs and we’ll see what
we can find for you to change into. I don’t see any luggage.” She
glanced around her quickly.
    “Lost in the accident, Mother.”
    “Well, I know how that is.”
    Thomas began following his mother and
Margaret up one of the two curved staircases that led to the door,
only to have Merry lay her hand on his arm. John had run off to
tell his siblings of Uncle Thomas’s arrival, so they were
momentarily alone. Thomas found himself being scrutinized by his
sister’s knowing blue eyes.
    “You brought a friend,” she said, with a
small quirk of her brow. “You realize from the moment Mother
spotted her, she began planning your wedding.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve brought friends to
Royal Oak before and—”
    “Never brought , brother dear. You had
one charming... lady follow you here. What was her name?”
    “Her name isn’t important.” It was Millicent
Prowder and she’d assumed that because he visited her often in
Charleston he’d welcome her here with his family. He’d set her
straight and that had ended that.
    “Regardless, you must admit this is unusual.
Mother and Father were convinced you weren’t coming home for
Christmas, and then for you to show up looking like this.” She
touched his torn shirt. “And with a woman, who though she seems
very nice, just isn’t your type.”
    “How do you know what my type is?” Merry
always thought she knew him so well. And it irked him now more than
ever. He knew she thought he enjoyed the company of women like
Louise, whom he’d had the misfortune of being with when he ran into
Merry in Charleston. Of course he hesitated to tell her he suddenly
preferred a kidnapping suffragette. So he didn’t say anything and
Merry only laughed and taking his arm, began to climb the
stairs.
    “Well, whatever the reason you’re here, I’m
glad.” She smiled up at him fondly. “We shall call this our own
little Christmas miracle.”
    Thomas stopped abruptly and looked down at
his sister. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Sorry,” she
said patting his arm. “I know you don’t believe in miracles.”

    Which just went to show again that Merry
didn’t know him as well as she thought.
    Thomas stood in the library staring out the
window, absently watching a chickadee that sat on a magnolia branch
enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. He’d bathed and changed into
clothes kept for him in his room. He already toured the house,
enjoying the festive decorations Merry and his mother had put up,
the pine and oranges, holly and ivy. He “oohed” and “aahed” when
his