The year of the Lucy

She almost dropped the coffee. She'd been right. His mother had made him run to her. Her hand was trembling so much that she nearly spilled as much as she poured into his cup. He was glancing at the mail and didn't notice.

"I'm glad you went, Steve. You'd've worried all during Christmas if you hadn't." He had come back to her. He had come home.

Steve looked directly at her, then. "Ralph called me and insisted I had to come." He rubbed the back of his neck. "He's almost as bad as Mother, you know. Dad was all right, resting comfortably, and that pair was hanging crepe." He gave a mirthless snort of laughter. "In fact, the doctor had given orders for no visitors for Dad because Mother carried on so much she upset him. I got in touch with the Blackburns, you know, Red's parents, and they promised to divert Mother."

"Did our flowers get there?" That was surely safe to ask, Mirelle decided.

"Yes, the biggest poinsettia I've ever seen. Fix me a couple of eggs, will you, Mirelle?"

"Coming up." Maybe he hadn't seen the portrait last night.

He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, sipping his coffee while she fried his eggs.

"Where're the kids?"

"I sent them all out to help Roman collect his Christmas loot."

"Roman's out?" Steve frowned.

"Oh, he's ensconced on the sled with Tonia and Nick as his willing steeds."

"Nick looks a good deal like his grandfather, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does," and Mirelle hazarded a quick glance at Steve. To her astonishment, he began to chuckle, ducking his head to smooth the hair on his neck.

"God, your father looks like he'd been everywhere and done everything. You don't suppose Nick will take after him?"

"Good Lord, I hope not. One rake is enough for any family."

She flipped the eggs on the plate and retrieved the toast which had just popped up.

"Tree looks great," Steve said, pulling out his chair. "Who supervised?"

"Roman. We did everything except the creche."

Steve caught her hand as she put his plate down and looked up at her, his eyes dark, troubled and pleading.

"I'll do that tonight with you, won't I, Mirelle?"

Mirelle ran her hand through his crisp hair, resting it lightly on the back of his strong neck.

"Yes, Steve. We'll do that together tonight. After all, it's a tradition in our family!"