Five-year-old Joey Hardy reached the top of the steps, turned to the left and stopped.  A small sigh escaped him as he stared mournfully at the closed door before him, light shining around the edge and across the carpet by his feet.  

He knew the rule.   

When I go into my study and close the door, it means I’m busy and can’t talk to you right then.  As soon as I come out, we can talk and play and everything, but when I’m in here, I can’t be disturbed.  

The little boy glanced around the dark hall, another sigh escaping him.  There was pretty colored light coming up the stairs from the Christmas tree, twinkling on the white garland wrapped around the stair banister.  There were little ornaments hanging between the rails; he’d touched each one as he climbed the stairs, making them all swing on their silver and gold ribbons.  A toy candy cane with red and green stripes hung from the darkened light fixture over Joey’s head, but that was much too high for him to reach.  He could hear the quiet popping of the fire in the fireplace, and only a few moments ago, he’d run his hands over the soft, thick velvet of the stockings that waited in the chair next to the fireplace.  

It was Christmas Eve- Santa would come tonight.  All week, the house had been full of decorating and cooking and baking.  Now it seemed aglow, light catching on beautiful colored balls and glittery snow and shiny figures.  It gleamed on the small wooden Stable and the figures of Mary and Joseph and Shepherds and Wise Men- and the sweet little Baby in his straw Manger.  Joe didn’t like that the Baby didn’t have a blanket, so he’d taken the shears and cut a bit out of one of Mommy’s scrap-bag pieces and tucked it carefully around the tiny figure.   

The boy’s thoughts drifted back several hours- back to when they’d all been laughing and talking and decorating the Christmas tree...  

Daddy brought the tree inside, and Joe tried to be patient while his parents set it in the tree-stand and adjusted it and turned it and then strung the lights all over it.  When the lights were plugged in, he and Frank started in on the decorating.  First the cranberry- and-popcorn strings they’d made yesterday- both of them had been unable to resist nibbling on the popcorn last night, even without the salt and butter it usually got.  After that came the colored balls, with the boys being careful not to put two of the same color too close to each other.  And then the rest of the ornaments, in so many wonderful shapes and sizes and colors.  Reindeer and angels and Santa faces; teddy bears and the gold harp and a funny little canoe.  A wire rocking chair with Mrs. Claus and flower-fabric butterflies and a tiny little stuffed kitten with a bow around her neck and a wooden drum and a wicker basket with itsy balls of red and green yarn...  

And then the phone rang and Daddy went to answer it.  And then he came back into the living room and said something quiet to Mommy, gave Frank and Joey a hug and said he’d be down soon to see how the tree was coming...and went upstairs.  

The tree was done now.  Even the tinsel was on, hanging in icicle shimmers.  Mommy had turned off the lights and the room looked so beautiful...the air smelled so good, pine and cookies all mixed together...and Mommy had hugged him and said what a good job they’d done...  

And Daddy was in his study, with the door closed, which meant Joey couldn’t come in.  

The hollow ball of sadness that had appeared when he saw Daddy’s feet disappear up the steps was still growing.   He didn’t really know why he felt so sad; it was almost Christmas, they had done the tree-  

-without Daddy-  

-he ought to be happy and excited because tomorrow there would be stockings and presents that Santa Claus left-  

-except Daddy’s door was shut and he didn’t want to be disturbed.  

Joey looked down the hall at the room where his parents slept.  That door was closed.  Mommy was in there, putting the ‘last-minute touches’ on gifts for her friends.  Ribbons, mostly, and bows.  Frank’s door was shut, too.  Frank was probably reading a book, he usually read a book when he wanted not to feel sad.  And Joe knew his big brother was sad; he’d seen it in Frank’s eyes, in the look they’d shared when Daddy went upstairs.  

The little boy considered for a moment, and then, making up his mind, he settled to the floor with his back against the wall, facing the stairs and the rainbow of light from the tree downstairs.  He’d wait.  He’d wait till Daddy came out.  

***  

Fenton Hardy closed his filing cabinet with a sigh of relief, straightened his back and stretched his six-foot-two frame.  An hour and a half of poring over files had left him stiff- or was it from hauling that pine tree inside and setting it in the stand?  Either way, a hot shower would feel good.   

The tree- the boys and Laura would have finished decorating some time ago, he realized ruefully, rubbing his neck.  There were times, and this was one of them, where he wished he’d chosen a different occupation.  Even a detective deserved Christmas off!  But this case of Sam Radley’s involved a missing adolescent, and he couldn’t, in conscience, let it go when that poor family was so distraught during the holidays.  There was no seasonal joy for them, only bitter questions and a burning need to know where- and why.   

True, that family was in need of a lot of help- there was some question in the first place as to whether this was a runaway or a kidnap- but either way, the girl needed to be found.  If only to start trying to resolve the fractures and breaks within her family.  Fenton paused, feeling a deep gratitude; his family was luckier than that.  Luckier and harder-working; he was rather proud of the job that he and Laura did with their sons.  Communicating with them, listening to them, disciplining by reason instead of force...and explaining reasons why in ways that Frank and Joey could understand and accept.  Oh yes, it was work sometimes, explaining things to young minds, but it was fascinating to watch their eyes light up in understanding.  

Smiling, the detective opened his door, his hand on the light switch, and stopped short on the threshold.  “Joey,” he remarked in surprise.  “What’re you doing there?”   

The little boy looked up and smiled- a sleepy smile, Fenton thought.   

“Sitting.”  Joe tended to be a literal child.  

“So I see.  But why are you sitting in the hall?”  

“’Cause it was closed.”  

“It- what was closed?”  

Joey pointed at the study door and the smile dropped from his father’s face.   

“You’re sitting in the hall because the door was closed?”  Joey, who had so little patience, waiting patiently outside a closed door?     

“Yeah.  I remembered the rule, not to ‘sturb you.”  

“Well, you’re a very good boy to remember the rule, Joey, and I’m proud you were so patient.”  Fenton dropped into a crouch beside his son, who was smiling at the praise.  “You could have waited in your room, though.”  

“Then I wouldn’t see when you came out,” the child explained.  

“Oh...you wanted to see me right away?”  Joey nodded and Fenton felt troubled; he tried to smile, but his heart was aching inside him.  His son, so anxious to see him, to tell him whatever was on his mind, that he didn’t want to wait even a second longer than necessary- yet made to wait, because of the closed door.  Fenton always felt guilty when he shut his study door; he couldn’t have his boys running in and out and disturbing his concentration, but he felt bad- shutting them out like that.   He’d explained that it didn’t mean he didn’t love them...  “How long have you been waiting?”  

“I don’t know, but the clock went off twice.”  

“The-”  Fenton stopped in shock.  The grandfather clock in the living room counted off the quarter-hours; if Joe had heard it go off twice-  ‘Sitting outside my door for half an hour, waiting for me-’  The tall man tried to swallow his pain; Joe was looking confused.  “That’s a long time!”  

“Yeah,” Joey agreed with a sigh.  

“So what did you want to talk about?”  Whatever it was, it had to be very important to the boy, for him to wait so long.  

Joey’s look of confusion deepened.  “T-talk?”  

“You didn’t want to talk, to tell me something important?”  A bewildered headshake was the child’s reply.  “But- I don’t understand, Joey.  Why are you waiting for me, then?”  

“I-”  Tears welled up in the blue eyes.  

“Oh, Joey...”  Fenton reached for his son and held him, baffled.  This was wrong, all wrong.  Why was his boy so upset?  And why was his own heart aching so much at the thought of Joey planting himself outside of the closed door and waiting for the first glimpse of his father?  

“I- I j-just- I w-wanted to- to...to- wait for you,” Joey whispered, sniffling.  “I g-guess it was stupid...”  

Agony crystallized inside of Fenton.  He didn’t trust himself to reply, so he stood, scooping his son into his arms and carrying him into the forbidden study.  He settled into the desk chair, cradling the child against him and gently rocking back and forth.  Joe snuggled into his father’s chest, reaching up to lock small, thin arms around Fenton’s neck.  “So there wasn’t anything you wanted to talk about?” Fenton asked at length, when some of his pain had been eased by the contact.  

“N-no...”  

“But you were waiting for me, for a long time- it was really important to you to know when I came out.”  

A nod, and a sniffle.  “I- I...the door was closed!” came the tremulous little voice.  “So I waited.  I knew you’d come out sometime.”  

“That’s all you wanted?  For me to come out?  You’re trying to say that you wanted to spend a little time with me?”  

“Yes!”  Joey sat up, a smile breaking over his teary face.  “I missed you!”  

Fenton drew him down again, holding him close, wondering if the pain he felt was what people meant when they talked about their hearts breaking.  ‘He missed me...my baby missed me!  Three steps away- but I might as well have not been in Bayport at all when I came in here and shut this door.’  Now he understood his instinctive unease at hearing his son had been ‘waiting for him’.  It was too much like what Laura had told him- what he’d seen for himself- driving into his garage and seeing his sons waiting on the front porch or peering out the front window.  Waiting for him to come home.  Waiting for his love, his affection, his attention...  

‘God forgive me.’  And five minutes ago, he’d been feeling so proud of how he dealt with his family.  ‘Shutting him out to the point where he’ll wait and suffer half an hour of ‘missing me’ because I’ve told them not to disturb me...God, what if he’d been sick?  Would he have sat waiting for me to come out and notice that, too?  What else has he deferred because I was too busy to be disturbed by my children?  How much has Laura had to take on herself...?’   

“Joey,” he said at last, “if I’d known you were waiting all that time for me, I would have come out much, much sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t know.”   

“Busy...” Joe murmured.  

“Yes, but not so busy I couldn’t hug my boy.”  Fenton gently lifted the little boy’s chin with his finger, gazing into the wide blue eyes.  “And, Joey, there was nothing stupid about you waiting for me, okay?  You’re not a stupid boy; you’re my good, smart boy, and wanting to spend time with me- or with anyone- is never stupid.  Will you remember that for me?”  

“Okay,” his son murmured.  One small hand rubbed at the damp streaks on his flushed cheeks; Fenton rummaged in a drawer until he found some tissue and wiped his son’s tears away.  Then Joey leaned against him with a contented sigh, snuggling close and holding with surprising firmness to Fenton’s flannel shirt.   

The little boy- worn out from his emotions and the lateness of the hour- fell asleep inside of ten minutes, but Fenton didn’t move for a long time.  Instead, he sat gazing down at the precious, limp form and wondered whatever could have possessed him to place his work ahead of his swiftly-growing children.  It seemed impossible that the five-year-old in his arms could truly be the tiny bundle he could’ve held in one hand- oh, surely it was only a month ago, not so many years!   Fenton sighed; how much longer would Joey seek his father’s company?  How long before he was too big to be held and cuddled, to bring his small worries-   

‘Large worries,’ the father corrected himself, stroking the silky white-blond hair.  ‘Nightmares and confusions and questions- just because he’s little doesn’t make his troubles smaller.  Bigger, maybe.  Because they’re too big for him to solve on his own yet.  How long till he can solve his own problems, without me?’  

“Things are going to change, baby,” he muttered at the unheeding child.  “I promise.”  Rising, he carried the sleeping boy down to his own room and tucked Joey into bed without waking him.   

When he reached the hall again, the detective noticed the light coming from around the edges of Frank’s door.  Fenton tapped gently, but when there was no answer, he opened the door quietly and went into his older son’s room.  He smiled to find that Frank had fallen asleep sitting up, a book still in his limp hands.  “Hey,” the father said softly, smoothing his son’s soft, dark hair.  The six-year-old opened sleepy brown eyes and blinked up at him.  

“Oh, Daddy.”  

“Looks like you’re ready for sleep.”  Fenton took the book, marked the place, and laid it on the nightstand.  

“D’you like the tree?  Did we do good?” Frank asked through a yawn.   

The tree.  Fenton struggled with another wave of remorse, then bent and scooped his older son into his arms, ignoring the twinge in his back.  He carried Frank down the hall, descended the steps, and stopped on the bottom stair.  Frank’s head drifted down to Fenton’s shoulder as the two of them regarded the softly-glowing rainbow of lights and decorations.  “It’s a beautiful tree,” Fenton said at last, quietly.  “You boys did a marvelous job.”  

“You didn’t look till now?”  Frank lifted his head, sounding hurt.  

“I wanted to see it with you,” his father explained gently.  

“Oh.”  Placated, Frank settled down again.  “Where’s Joey?”  

“I’m afraid he fell asleep.  I put him in bed and he didn’t wake up, so I thought we’d have a look ourselves, just you and I.”  It was close enough to the truth, but more than that, Fenton had a feeling the ‘togetherness’ would gratify his older child.  Frank was extremely good about sharing and never demanded privileges that Joey didn’t get- but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy them when they happened.  “We better not stay too long; Santa won’t come if we stand here and look at it all night,” he remarked after a few moments.   

“Yeah...” Frank yawned again, quietly, and was all but asleep again when Fenton tucked him into bed a few minutes later.  The detective lingered for moment, watching his older boy fall asleep.  How he and Laura had ended up with a brown-eyed, brown haired child and then a blond-haired, blue-eyed child still left him wondering about genetics.   

Not that the miracle of genetics was anything as wondrous as the children themselves...  

When Frank was soundly asleep, Fenton left the room, his jaw set and his mind made up.  ‘Oh yes, things are going to change- right now.’  

***  

Frank Hardy woke up with none of the yawning and stretching that usually accompanied his mornings.  Wide awake in seconds, he flung back the covers, bounced out of bed, and ran for his brother’s room without even bothering to put on his robe and slippers.   

As he reached Joe’s room, the six-year old nearly collided with the smaller figure that burst through the doorway with a squeak of, “Presents!”  

“Stockings,” Frank replied excitedly.  “Stockings first...come on!”  They both skittered down the steps, paused for an instant to take in the wondrous sight of packages and boxes, patterned paper and glittering bows, tangles of ribbon and shiny stickers...and then charged over to the bulging stockings.  “You take yours and Mommy’s, I’ll take mine and Daddy’s,” Frank directed, snatching up the FRANK stocking and securing it with two fingers through the hanger-loop.   

Joe grabbed wildly at a green-and-red-striped-tissue-wrapped parcel that was about to fall from his own stocking, then picked up their mother’s sock with slightly more care.  Frank followed as the younger child led the way back up the stairs, and then they were racing down the hall shouting, “Christmas, Christmas!  Stockings, presents, Santa came!”   

Their parents’ door was open, Mommy and Daddy just sitting up and rubbing their eyes.  “Ohhh, look at all this!” Mommy smiled, her voice still sleepy.  

“Look how good you two have been!  Well, I’m impressed, boys,” Dad teased kindly.  “Thank you, Frank...I say, Laura, it looks like the boys aren’t the only ones who’ve been good, eh?”  

Mommy laughed, taking her stocking from Joe and pushing the pillow up behind her back to sit against.  “All right, on with the opening,” she said gaily, and for a while everything was a blur of flying paper and untied ribbons.  Squeals and exclamations came as readily from the two parents as from the boys.  When Frank’s head cleared a little, he found himself the very proud possessor of four new toys, including a book; an orange, a walnut, a quarter, a pack of gum, a small bag of Christmas-colored Hershey Kisses and another of M&M’s.  Joe had different toys and a different flavor of gum, and he had Hershey Minis and peanut M’s, which he liked better than regular.   

“Well, that was a lot of fun,” Dad commented, shaking out the quarter from the tip of his stocking’s toe.  “I guess we were a good family.  “Now...”  He lay back down and pulled up the covers, “...since that’s pretty much that, I guess we can sleep in a bit more before we go down and make breakfast-”  

Frank led the assault, pouncing on his father and tugging at the blankets.  Joe joined in, grabbing Daddy’s arm and shaking him, both of them protesting at the top of their lungs while Mommy laughed and tickled Daddy in the ribs.  “Fenton, you’re naughty!” she exclaimed.  

“What, you mean there’s more?” Daddy asked in pretend astonishment.  “Well why didn’t you say so!”  

“Get your robes and slippers on, you two,” Mommy told them, pulling the covers off Dad with one big yank.  “And you!  Out of this bed, you tease.  And don’t forget the camera!”  

Frank gathered up his stocking stuff, raced to dump it all on his bed and haul on his robe- then paused to gobble two of his seven Kisses.  One green foil, one red foil.  When he got downstairs, Mom was on the sofa, Joe was sitting on the floor by her feet, and Dad was standing near the fireplace.  Joe was chewing something, and Frank grinned to see traces of chocolate around his brother’s mouth.  

“Look at them, already into the sweets.  We need to tell Santa to bring less chocolate,” Daddy remarked, his eyes twinkling at Frank.  

“You do that, and I’ll put coal in your stocking myself,” Mommy informed him, opening the little gold box that had been among her things and popping a chocolate into her mouth.  “Besides, I saw you nibbling on that Dove bar.”  

“Guilty,” Dad admitted, grinning.  “Let’s see here...this says, to Joe H From S. Claus...and this says to Frank H from S. Claus.”  He handed over the first presents.   

Some of the presents weren’t from Santa at all, Frank realized after a little while.  They were from Mom and Dad.  It seemed that when Mommy had bought things for her friends and Daddy, she’d also slipped in a few things for Frank and Joey.  Frank thought that maybe next Christmas, he’d find something to give her and Daddy, just from him...  

When all the presents were opened- except for the ones for Auntie Gertrude, who wasn’t going to get there until tomorrow- Frank leaned back against the sofa with a sigh of mingled satisfaction and regret.  He almost felt like he could open presents all day long- but maybe that wouldn’t be good.  Then he wouldn’t have time to play with or look at the things he’d gotten!  Besides, he wouldn’t be a good boy to be that greedy.   

A click-whirr from behind him made him turn; Daddy had been taking a lot of pictures, like he usually did.  It was always fun to look at the pictures, later, and remember how excited everyone had been- and there were always lots of funny expressions.  Especially Joey, who usually had his mouth open to say something.  “You like your Christmas?” Daddy asked, putting the camera down.  

“Yeah!”   

“Lots, lots, lots,” Joe chimed in.  He never used just one word if he could get three or four in.   

“You talk too much,” Frank remarked without malice.  

“You don’t talk enough,” Joey responded without looking up from his new BattleBeast figurines.   

“You both make plenty of noise, whether it’s talking or not,” Mommy said quietly, smiling at them both.   

“As it happens, I have a present for my boys that’s not in a box.”  Daddy sounded very serious, which was strange, and Frank and Joe both turned to him.  “In fact, my present is talk, which probably seems a bit odd to you- but it’s the only way I can give it.  Come sit beside me a moment.”  

Frank climbed up onto the sofa as Daddy put the camera on the coffee table; Joe stood up and waded through several discarded wrappings to plop down on the other side of their father.  The boys exchanged a puzzled look; they couldn’t be in trouble, could they?  Not on Christmas!  

“I was thinking-”  Daddy looked first at Frank, then at Joe, “-last night, and I made a decision.  I’ve been getting too busy with my work and not paying enough attention to my family, especially not to my boys.  So I’m going to change that.  From now on, the only time I’m going to close the door to my study is when someone is having a meeting with me.  It’ll be mostly closed,” he added as Frank’s eyes went wide.  “Mostly, but not completely, and that will mean that I’d like you two not to be too loud if you’re upstairs.  But if there’s something important you need me for, you boys knock and I’ll open the door.”  

Frank stared up at his father’s face and blinked in astonishment.  How- strange!  Daddy was always busy, and Mommy had explained that they mustn’t bother and pester him when he was trying to find out who the bad people were so the police could get them to jail.  It was his job, being a detective, and it meant that Daddy left at funny times and came home late, or early, or that he went away for days, and got phone calls a lot and couldn’t explain much.  And it meant that when Daddy was in his office thinking, they weren’t to disturb him.   

And now Daddy was saying they could knock on his door and talk to him when he was working?  But what if that meant he forgot or something and the bad guys got away?  Frank looked at his brother and saw the same look of almost-fear that he himself was feeling.  This was such a big difference!

If there’s something important...  The fragment repeated in the six-year-old’s mind.  Something important.  That was it.  It would have to be very important to disturb Daddy.  “Something important,” Frank echoed, looking back up at his father uncertainly.   

“Important as in...if you can’t find a missing sock, that’s not very important.  But if you’re hurt, or don’t feel good, or someone’s been mean to you, or you see something that someone needs to know about, that’s important.  Or if you have some really good news to share...or if you’re lonesome and want a hug for a few minutes.”  Daddy looked at Joey again and touched his hair.  “Those are good reasons too.  All right?”  

“Okay,” Frank murmured, not at all sure how to take this.  How would he know what was important enough and what wasn’t?  “But...”   

“But what, son?”  Daddy looked at him.  

“But how do we know if it’s important enough?”  On the other side of Daddy, Joe nodded vigorously, obviously wondering the same thing.  Daddy looked at Mommy and sighed.  

“If you’re not sure,” Mommy said gently, “you could tell me about it and I’ll help you decide.  I figure that once you’ve had a few examples- once you’ve done it a few times- you’ll know for yourself.  Only I do think you better remember that it’s hard to talk to someone when they’re on the telephone.”  

That was true, Frank mused.  How complicated!  What was important, what wasn’t, when visitors were there, when they weren’t, open, closed, what-ever!  “Daddy,” he said dubiously, “maybe you just better keep the door shut.  We don’t wanna make mistakes, and it’s too confusing.  We dunno what’s important yet.”  

Joe nodded vigorously again.  “We can wait,” he piped up.  “Like I waited last night.”  

“No!  Joe, that’s- unacceptable to me.”  

Frank blinked again, shrinking back from Daddy’s sudden sternness.  

“Fenton, they don’t understand,” Mommy said softly.   

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” Daddy said tiredly.  “Boys...I’d rather you make mistakes and come in for something small and ordinary than not come in at all.  If you’re not sure if something’s important, come in and ask me.”  

“And have you tell them ‘no, it’s not, find your mother’?” Mom asked- softly, but there was something in her voice that made Frank cringe again.  

“Do whatever you want, say whatever you want, but I’m NOT going to knock on your door when you’re busy, and that is that,” the six-year-old declared, imitating his mother when she was cross, even to folding his arms on his small chest.  “And stop talking about it, you’re making Christmas nasty.”  

Daddy turned to him, looking sadder than Frank had ever seen.  “Son, don’t you understand that I want to spend more time with you?  I don’t want to keep closing the door and making you stay out here while I’m in there.  I have to be in there if I’m going to work, but I don’t want you feeling like you have to wait for me to come out all the time.”  

Joe gave a little jump of surprise.  “Like...last night?” he ventured timidly.  

“Like last night.  Last night, Frank, your brother waited for me outside the door for half an hour because I didn’t know he was out there.  All because I told you two not to ‘disturb’ me when I’m working.  I’ve changed my mind; I’d rather be disturbed by my sons than ignore them without meaning to.”  

Frank thought about that, frowning.  He didn’t like things like this, and especially not on Christmas, when people were supposed to be happy.  It wasn’t a time for thinking hard and trying to figure stuff out, and he wished Daddy had given them a different talk-present.  But it was true that Daddy sometimes ignored them, or didn’t notice things they wanted to show and tell him because he was so busy.  “Okay,” he said at last, slowly.  If that was what Dad wanted them to do, he guessed he’d do it.   

Maybe.  

“Okay,” Joe echoed.  Frank looked over and saw his little brother’s frown, and nodded internally.  Joey didn’t feel happy about it either.  “But I still think it’s too confusing.”  

“Why is it confusing?” Daddy asked, sighing.  

“Because it is.”  Joe shrugged and squirmed off the sofa, settling onto the floor and picking up his BattleBeasts again.   

“Yeah,” Frank agreed dourly.  “We’re going to make a lot of mistakes.  We don’t know what’s important.  But if you really say we should, I guess we have to.”  

Daddy sighed again, then got up, looking down at Frank with a strange expression.  “Well, maybe you were right, son,” he said, sounding tired.  “Maybe this isn’t a discussion for Christmas.   Since we’re not getting very far, let’s stop thinking about it now and try it again some other time.”  

Frank looked at Mommy, who smiled at him in a sort of sad way.  “Okay,” he agreed, relieved that at least no one was angry.  He turned his attention to the book that had been in his stocking and started reading the first page, trying to forget Daddy’s weird idea of a present.  If Daddy wanted to be with them more, all he had to do was come out of the study- there wasn’t any sense in making Frank and Joe go in and maybe be wrong about what was important and disturb him...  

“Hey, lookit!” Joey exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the window next to the front door.  “Snow!”  

“Well, look at that.”  Dad turned and walked over to the window, leaning over the bench strewn with pillows that sat underneath it.  “I guess the weather folks were right about our white Christmas.”  

Both the boys scrambled up; Frank ran past the granddaddy clock to climb on the bench and peer out.  A moment later, Joe joined him with a quiet, “Brrr, cold toes.”  Frank nodded absently in response.  Even with slippers on, the chill of the marble floor in this part of the living room was quite cold, and Joe’s slippers had holes in them.  That was one of his Christmas presents: new slippers.  For some reason, he hadn’t put them on yet- probably didn’t want to spoil them by wearing them so soon.  He’d just have to have cold feet...  

Frank forgot about his brother’s slippers as soon as he got a good look out the window.  Big white flakes were drifting lazily down from fog-gray skies, drifting a bit whenever a winter breeze gusted by.  And it was sticking; cars, grass, trees, sidewalks- even the black street was slowly being covered in a layer of white icing.   

“It must have just started a little while ago, the grass is still showing,” Daddy remarked.  “What say we get dressed, clean up in here, have some breakfast, and go out in it?”  

“Yeah!”  Frank jumped down off the bench; Joey cheered for a few seconds longer before hopping down, and even did a sort of war-dance on the marble floor.  Mommy came over, laughing, and led them back upstairs to get dressed.  

***  

Laura Hardy- clad in one of the new Christmas outfits her husband had given her, the one with the turtleneck sweater- glanced out from the kitchen into the living room and smiled.  Frank and Joey were helping their father pick up all the torn wrapping paper and ribbons from the living-room carpet.  Frank pushed the paper into the plastic bag in a businesslike manner; Joe lingered over the pretty paper and saved a few curling ribbons and shiny bows.  “Breakfast is ready,” she called through the doorway.  

“No pancakes?” Joey asked a few moments later, regarding his cereal and eggs with dismay.  

“I think you’ve had enough sweet stuff for breakfast already,” Laura answered, tapping his nose gently as she placed a glass of milk in front of him.  Joe sighed heavily, then dug into his breakfast with gusto.  

Getting the boys to help with the cleanup when breakfast was done took a little more effort than usual.  Between the excitement of Christmas, their impatience to play in the snow, and the lingering effects of their early-morning chocolate, both children were fireballs of disorganized energy.  But eventually the chores got done, and then Laura helped her sons into their snow clothes while her husband got into his own winter-wear.  That was a challenge in itself: dressing two hyperactive boys in snowsuits, boots, mittens, hats and scarves took a certain amount of skill, not to mention patience.   

“All set?”  Fenton smiled at his energetic sons and opened the door, standing to one side as they barreled through.  Laura closed the door behind them, then watched through the window as handfuls of snow joined the thickly-falling snowflakes in the air.  Smiling, she waved a scolding forefinger when Joey tossed a snowball directly at the window.  The five-year-old was distracted, however, when his father tweaked Joe’s hat off, put a snowball in it, and pretended to try and replace the hat on the child’s blond head.  Joey foiled him and took possession of the snowball; Laura laughed aloud as Fenton fled from his hotly-pursuing son.  

‘Fenton, you’re a good father,’ she thought as she watched the tall, handsome man playing with their children.  ‘But I don’t know about that ‘Christmas present’ of yours.’  

He had told her last night what he planned to do.  He’d been earnest, determined, sincere in his need to quit shutting the children out of his work-life.  But his wife didn’t think he was going about it the right way.  

“I want them to know that whenever they need me, they can come to me,” he’d said urgently.  “Not just sit and wait for my convenience.”  

But it still left the boys intruding on their father’s domain, interrupting him, risking a brief, “I can’t right now; later, son.”  

Laura hadn’t tried to talk him out of his action; she’d hoped it might actually work.  The boys were still young enough to accept and adapt swiftly to changes.  But after seeing the doubts and hesitations on both small faces, she had a feeling she’d been right.  Fenton needed to do more than open his study door to them and wait for them to enter his formerly forbidden abode.   

The woman sighed softly as she watched her ‘boys’- her sons and her husband.  They were all laughing, half-covered in snow.  She wished there was some way to keep their happiness- some way better than pictures.  Something she could open and spread through the house when Fenton was away or busy... 

No, his plan wasn’t going to work.  If he wanted to be approachable, he had to do the approaching.  He needed to leave his office and seek the children out- whether they were doing something ‘important’ at the time or not.  If he insisted on waiting until the boys needed him for something ‘important’....he’d probably be waiting for quite a while.  The snow battle going on before her was a case in point.  Neither of the boys- young as they were- would consider a snowfall ‘important enough’ for them to disturb their father at his work.  And by waiting to be approached, Fenton would have missed out on one more opportunity to spend precious time with his boys while they were little.  

Laura wondered briefly if it would do any good to make this suggestion to her husband.  He had such a stubborn streak at times, and if the way he’d responded to Frank’s uncertainty was any hint... ‘No, he’ll have to find out for himself that the boys are too intimidated by that door and his work to bother him for any but the most dire situations,’ she concluded.  

She just hoped it wouldn’t take too long for him to get the message.  But that was one thing about Fenton Hardy: he was a very observant man.  True, he had taken a while to see that the boys felt isolated from him, despite her nudges and urgings...but all it would take would be one or two incidents of the children not following through on his ‘present’ to alert him.  And when he found he couldn’t encourage them into disturbing his work- well, perhaps that would be the time to drop her suggestion in his ear.  

At least as an adult, and his wife, she could secure his attention for herself when she needed it!  Sometimes bluntly, sometimes subtly, sometimes teasing and other times direct...  

Fenton was holding Joey upside-down and the boy was squealing with delight.  Smiling, Laura put on her own coat and gloves, wound a scarf around her head.  Stepping into her boots, she slipped out the door, making sure it was unlocked before she closed it.   Gathering a handful of snow, Laura went to join the fun.  

 -End-