Chapter Description: Nostalgia for Christmas past, as the family wraps up their preparations for this year's holiday.

December 23, 2006 - Saturday morning.

Irene walked through her house, double-checking the decorations. The tree, the stockings, the garlands, everything looked right. It looked like it had the last Christmas.

Not last year. For Irene, the last Christmas referred to a celebration more than twenty years ago, the last time they had all been together. All of her children, and all of her grandchildren, when Angela was still a baby, Neal almost three, and Henry five years old. None of them had suspected how their lives would change. Within six months of the last Christmas, Neal and Meredith were in WITSEC, with Meredith's husband in prison.

And the changes continued through the decades that followed. Noelle divorced and remarried. David and Meredith had died. Neal returned from WITSEC. Henry came out as gay. All three grandchildren were married now, with Angela expecting a baby.

Over the years, Irene had collected different holiday decorations, but she'd always had a fondness for a maroon and gold theme. And this year she'd replicated as closely as she could the look and feel of the last Christmas.

She could never truly recreate it, not with two of her children gone forever. But this was another kind of last Christmas, the last time she and Edmund would host the holidays here.

How she would miss this house! But it was too big for two people. It needed a family to fill it, and she and Edmund needed a place where they didn't have to climb stairs each night to go to bed. Her vision wasn't what it used to be. Edmund needed a cane for long walks. They had to be practical. And she would be practical — in January. But for the next few days, Irene would gather one last set of beautiful memories to take with her.

###

Angela and Michael took a train to Baltimore Friday evening, where they stayed with her Aunt Noelle and Uncle Joe. Saturday morning they piled into Joe's SUV for the drive to D.C. On the way they picked up Celeste, Sara's aunt who was joining them for the first time this year.

They didn't bring much with them, other than clothing and the movies they had nominated. Angela's grandparents had insisted on no presents, given their need to downsize soon. The focus this holiday would be on their time together, and the food. Sooo much food. Angela wasn't experiencing any specific pregnancy-related cravings yet, but she just generally felt hungry and looked forward to being able to graze on gourmet foods all day without having to cook any of it.

As soon as they arrived, Michael and Joe offered to shovel the snow from the driveway and sidewalks. Edmund joined them, supervising, as they weren't about to let him shovel.

Angela bustled everyone else into the kitchen, preparing for the delivery from a catering company Aunt Meredith used to work for. They made space in the refrigerator and pantry for the boxes that would arrive in the next couple of hours.

"Usually when it comes to holiday meals, you're open to anything," Angela said to her grandmother. "But you had a very specific menu in mind this time."

"It's our last Christmas here," Irene explained. "I wanted to recreate my memories of the best one, as close as I can." And then she described what that Christmas had been like.

The Last Christmas

Irene opened the door of the nursery. It used to be her daughters' room. Now the two beds held the slumbering boys — Henry and Neal — with a crib in the center of the room for baby Angela. Neal was staying here for easy access to play with the others, even though his parents lived only a few miles away. Meredith and her husband enjoyed the occasional childless evening, and Irene was always happy to babysit.

Meredith had gone upstairs, claiming she wanted to check on Neal. Irene suspected what her daughter was up to, and when she opened the door, she caught Meredith in the act.

A deeply slumbering Henry wore a cap designed to look like a tiger. Neal had a matching cap with bear ears. And little Angela was in a bunny onesie, with a fluffy tale and floppy ears.

Irene giggled. Meredith turned around from tucking Angela back into the crib. "Caught me!" Meredith whispered.

It was no surprise when Noelle stepped into the room. Identical twins, Noelle and Meredith were often on the same wavelength. Noelle chuckled as she took in the children's attire. "I had a feeling you brought a new set of animal outfits to try out on them," she told her sister.

"When I saw these in my friend's store, I couldn't resist," Meredith said. She took one last look at her handiwork, and then the women left the room so they wouldn't wake the children.

They went back downstairs to the kitchen, where they could chat in privacy. Their husbands were ensconced on couches, watching football, or in Edmund's case ignoring the football game to read. The twins' brother David and his wife had volunteered to make a liquor run when Noelle's husband grumbled ungraciously about the brand of beer on hand.

It was Christmas Eve, and Meredith had orchestrated a truly elegant dinner that evening. The leftover ham and sides would be used in a spectacular brunch on Christmas Day. She bustled around the kitchen, arranging the pots and pans and other items she would need in the morning. "Eggnog French toast, ham and asparagus frittatas," she said, going through the menu. "Where are the champagne flutes, Mom? I'd like to serve mimosas."

"I moved them to the china hutch," Irene said.

"I'll get them," Noelle offered. She carried them into the kitchen while Meredith opened the pantry, assessing the options.

"I feel like a brunch spread calls for a potato dish," Meredith mused. "Perhaps a gratin?"

"Do we have time to make all of that?" Noelle asked.

"Oh, it will be easy. The gratin will bake while I handle the rest. Hmm. Looks like I should bring my Grand Marnier with me in the morning. I'll need that for strawberries Romanoff."

"Another dish?" Noelle said.

"I think ending with a fruit dessert will be a nice way to cap off a heavy holiday meal. Now what about snacks?"

Irene laughed. "Who'll have room for snacks?"

"We're supposed to have snow tomorrow," Meredith said. "A little sledding, some snowball fights, and we'll work up an appetite again."

"I can make fudge," Irene offered.

"Perfect," Meredith said. "I'll top it with berries."

"We can tell ourselves it's healthy that way," Noelle added.

The next morning there were presents, carols sung around the piano, sledding, and SO MUCH FOOD.

###

"It's like it was yesterday," Noelle said when Irene finished the story. "Every memory came rushing back."

"I can't be Meredith," Angela said. "I want to fill that role for you so very much, but I'm not her."

"Oh, Funny Bunny." Irene hugged her. "I want you to be exactly who you are, the most organized person in the family. It's thanks to you that we're all going to be here, and you arranged with the caterer to bring so many of the dishes I remembered."

Angela sniffled. "They wouldn't do the strawberries Romanoff, but Neal promised he knows how to make it, and I brought the Grand Marnier."

"Long ago, I worked my way through school as a bartender," Celeste offered. "I can prepare your mimosas and any other drink you need — cocktails and mocktails."

"Thank you," Irene said. "As much as I wanted to recreate that old Christmas, it's time for me to acknowledge the people in my life now. Being with all of you this year is what my heart needs."

"Let's make the fudge," Noelle suggested, and Irene pulled a card out of her recipe box. To Angela, Noelle added, "You did inherit Meredith's love of costumes. I imagine your child and any nieces and nephews will benefit from your vision."

"There will be outrageous baby outfits in our future," Angela promised.

###

Neal and Sara spent Saturday afternoon on a project Henry had assigned them. A stack of papers in pastel shades sat on the table. In the center of each sheet, Sara wrote the title of a movie. Then Neal folded the paper into an origami animal. These were mostly cute, playful creatures, like bunnies, teddy bears, kittens, puppies, ducks, penguins, and giraffes. There was also one bat, in deference to Angela's goth look.

"I can't help thinking that the simple family Christmas your grandparents proposed last spring turned into something a lot more complicated," Sara said as wrote another movie title.

"True," Neal said, adding another fold to a lilac sheet of paper that was turning into a duck.

"Do you think the Thanksgiving gathering we offered to host next year will be equally complicated?"

"Probably. But you know Angela will be jumping up and down to help organize things."

Sara slid a green sheet of paper in his direction. "Angela will have an infant to care for at Thanksgiving."

"Don't kids that young sleep most of the time?" Neal countered. Then he paused. "Do you want to back out of hosting Thanksgiving?"

"No, just coming to grips with what to expect."

"It will become complicated," Neal predicted. "That seems to be the nature of Caffreys. Fortunately most of us enjoy complications."

"Good point," Sara said. "You're a complicated person, and that's one of the things I love about you."

Neal smiled.

"What?"

"'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,'" he quoted.

"This is not the time for romantic poetry," Sara said primly. "We have a job to do."

"It's really great romantic poetry," Neal insisted. "We should always make time for our passions, or what's the point of living?"

"You make a good argument," Sara said, looking into his eyes while running a hand down his chest. She flicked open a button on his shirt. "I'm starting to feel very passionate about something."

"Poetry?" Neal asked, attempting to sound innocent although he suspected his knowing grin gave him away.

Later, Sara stretched and said, "I can imagine this becoming a euphemism when we have kids. Mommy and Daddy need some grownup time to discuss poetry."

Neal chuckled. "Maybe I should start collecting books of erotic poems that we'll keep in the bedroom."

"On a very high shelf only we can reach," Sara agreed. Then she added, "I already bought your Christmas gifts, but you can count on poetry for your birthday."