A Holiday Among Friends

​My house is rather empty during the holidays with an ever-dwindling family network. Time marches on. Children marry, and siblings shove off to distant retirement communities. Perhaps you share the same dilemma. My solution is to invite friends in…
 
This Christmas, Joey Peckinshaw will step away from the Peckish Prawn to apply her café skills in my kitchen. If you haven’t met Joey yet—in The Sheltering Stones—then you’re in for an eye-popping experience. (Someone once compared her to a pineapple!)
 
I’m praying that Addie Jesper will whip up some dessert while here. Right now, she’s dropping crackers around the table for popping after the meal. Given her non-stop chatter, I suspect she’s been sampling the brandy used in her traditional Christmas Pudding.

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Toby Remeck is in the lounge, spinning albums. He’s informed everyone that vinyl’s comeback is here to stay, so we best make our picks while we can still afford the collectibles. Professor Rosemont is haggling over some swing recordings for his war memorabilia shop. I'm opting for any albums with Bing Crosby crooning about love.

Mac Delaney is definitely off the clock. He’s planted himself on my sofa, a bit too cozy beside Laura Lawry. Her sons, Ben and Logan, are stationed in the pantry, sampling sweets. Old Tom is draining my only bottle of good whiskey and sharing a biscuit bounty with Vionna’s dog who waddles room-to-room for handouts. I fear the poor beastie will soon burst.
 
Paul Albright is escorting Elena to the table, all moony-eyed and lovey-dovey. Romance hasn’t doused Paul’s appetite one bit, though. He is the first to sit down and will be the last to leave my table. We’ll begin our meal as soon as Remy Lane passes out gaudy stockings to everyone. (Do all Americans wear such bizarre footwear?) I’m thrilled to toss out my bland, black socks and don a pair of penguin-peppered tights. William Tremaine, always a servant to the public, has turned on the telly to capture the royal Christmas Message, broadcast since 1932. While the Queen wraps up her heartwarming speech, William offers me a hostess gift: a handcrafted box with a luxury pen.
 
How lovely—I can finally start writing my fourth novel.
 
When the time comes, I invite you to pick up one of my books if you find yourself facing an empty dining room, or worse, surrounded by grouchy relatives during the holidays. I promise that my characters will warm your heart and my plots will quicken your pulse. So, plop down on your sofa, snuggle up with your pet, wiggle your warm toes, and fall in love with Barrington Bay.
 
Happy holidays, readers!