Weak, wintry sunlight crept through the windows. No sooner had the tepid rays brushed her eyes than eight year old Felicity Chandlish bolted upright. Flinging back the covers she slid her feet into her comfortable slippers. The room was still shrouded in darkness, but she didn’t bother with a light. For the past month she had been very good about keeping her room clean. After all, he had a list and was checking it twice.
After brushing her teeth, she padded through the silent halls, feeling the cold stone even through the leather soles of her slippers. Garlands and wreaths and bows were strung over the walls. Silver bells decked doors. The familiar back ground noise of a bustling castle had been replaced by a reverent silence. Chilly air raised goose pimples on her legs as she descended the stairs. Her first instinct, as it always was this day, was to run to the family room and see if any presents had been delivered. She didn’t because rules were rules and there was no point in being good 364 days out of the year only to lose it in the last hour. He probably wouldn’t turn around for the gifts, but better safe than sorry.
It was when she turned down the hall towards the dining room she first encountered the smells of breakfast. She knew her mother had been up for a while now, baking for the first time in a year. Ignoring the gilded door, Felicity instead opened a smaller entrance hidden in an alcove. “Merry Christmas, Mamma,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Need any help?”
Elspeth Chandlish looked up from whatever she was stirring in a skillet and smiled at her oldest daughter. “Merry Christmas, Liz. Yes, if you can start the hot chocolate that would be great.”
Felicity nodded, then watched her mother while warming up some milk. Duchess Elspeth Chandlish was many things. Leader of the Valentria duchy, President of a billion gullion company, and matriarch of the four Chandlish sisters. What she wasn’t was a great cook. Her hair was disheveled and there was flour on her cheek though Felicity couldn’t see anything that required flour. The bacon was burnt, the eggs were runny and the toast was somewhere in between. It was always Felicity’s favorite meal. For some reason their mother had gotten it into her head that Christmas breakfast should be made by her since it was the one day she was a full time mom.
Once the coffee, for the adults, and the hot chocolate, for the kids, were finished, Felicity and Elspeth carried the meal to the dining room. Stephen Alexander was watching over the youngest Chandlish daughter, Amanda, who was sleeping soundly in a high chair. They placed platters around a centerpiece made of holly and pinecones wrapped at the base of a single red candle.
The door opened and Rebekah Chandlish clomped in, dragging a raggedy bear behind her. She had copper color hair and their mother’s dark complexion. She also had difficulty starting every morning. Her little six year old hand groped blindly for the coffee pot, and Elspeth put up only token resistance before pouring a cup.
“Bekah, where’s Raven?” Liz asked. In response Bekah grunted and leaned her head towards the door.
“Is she not hungry?” Elspeth asked. Another grunt accompanied by a head shake answered.
Elspeth shared a glance with Stephen. She had recently finished the paper work formally adopting Branwyen Poplar, now Chandlish. The little girl had come to live with them last year, and at first Elspeth only agreed to let her stay because of the instant bond she and Rebekah had formed. Branwyen had a tendency to turn up in the strangest places, like two weeks ago when she was found sleeping in a snow bank. Telling her to do something was a fifty-fifty proposition at best; the only person she really listened to was Rebekah. Then there were the fights. Busted noses, scrapped knees, and bumps on the head were daily occurrences. Rebekah and Branwyen were at each other’s throats constantly, but no matter how many tears were shed they were best friends five minutes later.
Time had endeared the child to Elspeth though and she knew her late husband, the child’s father, would want her to have the best of everything. Now Branwyen, or Raven as her sisters called her, was legally Elspeth Chandlish’s responsibility. So the appetite thing was getting a little unnerving. Branwyen only pecked at her food and it didn’t seem possible she could have that much energy on a diet that would starve a bird. They had taken her to multiple medical specialist and all had told them it was perfectly normal. Elspeth disagreed since the other three, while not plump, had at least some meat on them. Branwyen was skin and bones. Resolved to yet another doctor’s visit following the holidays, Elspeth had her family bow their heads for the blessing.
Half an hour later, after Rebekah and Felicity promised to put the dishes up later, they all stood in the door to the family room. A large Christmas tree decorated with real icicles magically crafted to never melt stood in the corner of the room. There were so many presents piled on the floor it would take the better part of a day to go through them. All that was to be expected when one’s family is incredibly rich. What wasn’t expected was the sight of a four year old girl with flaming red hair snoring peacefully among the gifts. She was wrapped head to toe in silver garland and had a card taped to her chest. Snatching the card, Elspeth read the words written unmistakably by a six year-old’s hand.
“Dear Santa, I wanted a pony. Thanks, Bekah.”