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“Shaving your face and cutting your hair. It would make you look ever so much nicer. Look how splendid Fuzzy looks since his bath. And I saw what a fuss Brigitte made over him. She’d probably make a fuss like that over you, too.” A pause. “Well, maybe not as big a fuss, but then Fuzzy was a lot dirtier than you are.”
“Thank you.” Eric bit back his laughter. “That’s excellent advice. I’ll put it to use this very day.”
“Good.” A satisfied nod. “Uncle, are we a family?”
Eric’s amusement faded, emotion knotting his chest. “Yes, Noelle. Thanks to Brigitte, that’s precisely what we are.”
“I thought so.” She kissed his cheek with a loud smack. “G’night, Uncle.”
“Sweet dreams.” Eric reached up and tugged one tangled dark tress. “By the way,” he said, “it’s gotten quite cold these past few days. I think it might snow. Perhaps we should plan to move your birthday party indoors. My chambers are more than large enough to accommodate even the grandest of puppet shows.”
Noelle’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. Now get some rest. We have a busy morning ahead of us.”
The bright blue gaze narrowed questioningly. “We do?”
“Certainly. Didn’t you hear me? It feels like snow. Therefore, we’d best fetch those numerous boughs of holly Brigitte so painstakingly collected—then abandoned when she dashed into the pond to save you. By tomorrow, they could be buried under layers of snow. If that should happen, and if the ground remains covered, we won’t be able to retrieve them in time for Christmas. Nor are there enough boughs left on the trees to replace them.”
The significance of Eric’s words sank in, and Noelle flung her arms about his neck, hugging him fiercely. “Oh, Uncle, I’m so glad you learned how to celebrate.”
“So am I, Noelle,” Eric managed. “Very, very glad.”
Lying quietly beside him, Brigitte smiled through her tears, giving silent thanks to the heavens.
In reply, a decision was made somewhere far above.
And the first snowflake deferred its descent one day longer.
Epilogue
“BRIGITTE, DID YOU SEE ANNE COREWELL’S EXPRESSION WHEN Uncle gave her the Christmas shillings?”
“Yes, Noelle, I did,” Brigitte affirmed, cheerfully warming her hands by the sitting room fire. “I saw all the children’s faces. They were elated.”
“Are some of them truly coming to Farrington this afternoon?” Noelle demanded, prancing about their gloriously decorated Christmas tree—the very fir Brigitte had selected scant weeks ago when Christmas seemed naught but an inconceivable dream. “Just for my party?”
“Actually, quite a few of them accepted our invitation.” Brigitte’s heart swelled with gratitude as she recalled the generous response of the villagers, many of whom were postponing their own Christmas festivities in order to grant one precious four-year-old the first real celebration of her life. “And not only the children,” she added. “Their families as well. After all, sharing Christmas with those you love is what makes the day so special—right?”
“Right!” Noelle’s head bobbed up and down, pausing as another thought struck. “Brigitte, what about your grandfather? Is he coming? He’s family—and he’s really special. It’s ’cause of him that so m
any people like Uncle again. I heard Anne’s parents talking—they said the vicar’s been come-mending Uncle and saying everyone should welcome him, not fear him.” A tiny pucker formed between Noelle’s brows. “What’s ‘come-mending’? Does that mean Uncle was broken and the vicar fixed him?”
“No, love.” Brigitte grinned at Noelle’s customarily inventive reasoning. “Your Uncle wasn’t broken. Commending someone is praising them; the opposite of chest-izing them.”
“Oh! No wonder so many people are coming to my party. The vicar must have explained how Uncle saved our lives. Now they all know he’s a hero, too.”
“Indeed they do. And, to answer your question, yes, Grandfather will be here.”
Noelle chewed her lip. “Do you think he’ll be too tired to run the puppet show? His Christmas sermon was awfully long. I know ’cause, even though I stayed awake through the whole thing, Fuzzy nodded off twice.”
Brigitte’s shoulders shook. “Grandfather wouldn’t miss your party for the world. Rest assured, he and his puppets are en route to Farrington even as we speak.”
“Oh, Brigitte, Christmas is just as wonderful as you promised!” Noelle tossed Fuzzy in the air, where he bounced against a wreath and landed in Noelle’s arms with an evergreen sprig about his neck.
“More wonderful,” Brigitte replied, glancing up as Eric entered the room. “Who was that at the door?”
“Bladewell—the Farrington butler.” A look of awed pleasure split Eric’s clean-shaven face. “According to him, all the servants will be returning to Farrington by the first of the year. Not one of them refused my offer—my request,” Eric amended softly, “to assume their previous positions.”
