Have Yourself A Very Due South Christmas 

by Jackie 

pixie7@gte.net	 

 "'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!'" Lynda belted out as she
burst into the Squad Room. Dief was howling beside her. "'Everywhere you
go'!" The other Detectives just smiled as Lynda made her way to her desk.
They didn't mind her singing for two reasons: one, she was getting ready
for her Christmas performance in three days and, two, she had a really
good voice. "'Take a look at the five-and-ten, glistening once again, with
candy canes and silver lanes aglow! It's beginning to look a lot like
Christmas! Soon the bells will start!'" 

 "'And the thing that will make them ring, is the carol that you sing,
right within your heart'!" 

 Lynda smiled. Only one person had a tenor voice like that. "Hello,
Fraser," she smiled as she turned around. "How are you this fine morning?"


 "Never better," Fraser smiled as he approached. He was dressed in his
brown uniform, carrying his Stetson at his side. "And you seem to be happy
as well." 

 "Oh, I am," Lynda said as she removed her winter clothes - hunter green
parka, matching gloves and earmuffs, and white scarf - and shook the free
of snow before hanging them up on her coatrack. "I just love Christmas.
It's my favorite holiday." 

 "Well, it certainly shows," Fraser nodded. "You've been practicing for
your performance, not to mention you did a great job when you decorated
the Squad Room last week." The young Civilian Aid gazed around the room.
Paper streamers in red, green, silver, and gold hung from the ceilings.
Each desk had a miniature, decorated tree to brighten up the atmosphere.
Lynda smiled proudly. "Oh, and you looked pretty cold coming in, so I
thought you might enjoy this." He handed her a Styrofoam cup filled with
hot cocoa and a thick layer of mini marshmallows. 

 "Oh, thank you, Fraser." Lynda carefully sipped the hot liquid, then
sighed. "Ooh, that hits the spot. You are such a good friend." Dief eyed
her cup, then whined. "Okay, boy." Lynda set the cup on the floor and let
the wolf lap up the rest. 

 "Lynda," Fraser cleared his throat, "just when did Diefenbaker start
liking hot chocolate?" 

 "Since last week." 

 "Lynda, Diefenbaker is on a diet, remember? Especially around the
holidays." 

 "Fraser, I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this." 

 "Because he's gotten soft. He's become a junk-food addict who thinks that
by whining he can get what he wants." 

 "Oh, really?" Lynda raised her eyebrows. "And why do you think he's like
that?" 

 "Because you, your father, and Ray are constantly spoiling him." 

 "You, too." 

 "Me?" 

 "Yes, Fraser. You give him food, too, just so he'll stop whining and
begging. So, it's not just our fault, but yours as well." 

 "Now just wait -" Fraser paused. Lynda did have a point. The Mountie
couldn't recall all the times he's succumbed to his wolf's bad habits and
given in. He sighed. "You do have a point." 

 Lynda smiled. "I know." She sat down at her desk and began working on her
computer. Dief finished the hot chocolate, then began licking his lips.
"Dief, don't forget to throw your trash away." Dief whoofed once before
picking up the cup in his jaws and throwing it away in Lynda's
wastebasket. 

 Fraser smiled as he shook his head. "Lynda, I must say you've done a fine
job in taking care of Diefenbaker. Ever since he started staying with you,
his overall behavior has drastically improved." 

 "Well, you know how I was raised, and you know how clean I like my
apartment. So, while Dief can easily get on my soft side, I will not
tolerate his disobedience and uncleanliness." 

 "What are you two talking about?" Ray asked as he and Stanley walked up
to Lynda's desk. 

 "Morning, Ray," Lynda smiled. "Dad." 

 Stanley leaned over so he could get his usual morning-kiss-on-the-cheek
from his daughter. "Morning, Lynda. So, what are you and Big Red talking
about?" 

 "Diefenbaker," Lynda answered. "Fraser thinks I spoil him." 

 "No," Stanley and Ray said in mock disbelief. 

 Lynda smiled. "Change of subject time. So, you guys looking forward to
our first Christmas together?" 

 "You bet, Lynda," Ray said. "Looking forward to a great meal, a great
performance, and a great party." 

 "Lynda, I still don't understand why you're doing all this," Stanley
shook his head. "Between work and your music, decorating and shopping, and
having a party right after your performance, not to mention getting ready
for Graduation . . . where do you find time to breath?" 

 "Well, Dad, to be honest, I've finished my shopping and decorating, done
all the cooking for the party, I'm caught up on my work and practicing my
music, and Fraser's been helping me with everything for the Detective's
Examination." 

 "I just wish you wouldn't practice around the holidays," Stanley said.
"You're going to get stressed out." 

 "I will not, Dad. Besides, I need to practice if I want to have a chance
in passing the examination. It's only a few more weeks away." 

 "It wish you'd come to us for help if you wanted it," Ray said. "We can
help, too, you know. We are, after all, police officers as well. We do
know this stuff after all."" 

 "Okay, Mr. Know-It-All," Lynda folded arms across her chest, smiling.
"Care to place a bet?" 

 "Lynda, I've been a cop for almost nine years," Ray smiled. "You haven't
even gotten your diploma. I'm not going to take advantage of you. " 

 "Why?" Lynda asked as she stood up. "Think you'll clean my clock? That's
what you want me to believe, Ray, but I don't. I believe you don't think
you're man enough to challenge me." 

 "Ooo," some of the other officers murmured under their breaths. They had
stopped working and were watching the two friends. 

 "Now, look, Ray, Lynda," Fraser said cautiously. "This is starting to
sound a little ridiculous. Why don't you both -" 

 "Stay out of this, Benny. This is between me and Miss Smarty-Pants." Ray
took his wallet from his grey Armani jacket and produced a twenty dollar
bill. He set it firmly on Lynda's desk. "Twenty dollars. Twenty dollars
says I can answer any question dealing with the Detective's Examination
before you." 

 "Fine," Lynda said as she reached into her jeans' pocket, took her wallet
out, and pulled a twenty from it. She put it on top of Ray's. "You're on."


 "Stanley, you want to help me?" Fraser asked. 

 Stanley leaned against Lynda's desk, arms folded across his chest and
grinning like an idiot. "This is kind of fun, Red. Who do you think's
going to win?" 

 "Stanley!" 

 "What?" the Detective asked innocently. "Let them have their fun." 

 "Gambling is illegal if you're a minor," Fraser explained. "And your
daughter is only nineteen years old. She will be arrested." 

 "Oh, come on, Fraser," Ray said, his eyes never leaving Lynda, "this is a
friendly wager between two friends. Now, someone get a regulation manual
and ask a question." 

 "Got one!" Francesca answered, running up in four-inch heels. She was
waving a small booklet. She stood next to Fraser and began flipping
through the manual. "Okay, here's one." She shot a stern glance to her
brother. "You'd better get this right, bro. I got twenty bucks riding on
this." 

 "Don't worry, Frannie. I'll beat Lynda quickly and painlessly." 

 Francesca cleared her throat. "What is Section 9, Regulation 926, of the
Equipment and Use of Force Chapter?" 

 "Huh?" Ray looked confused. 

 Lynda cleared her throat before smiling. "Section 9, Regulation 926,
says, 'A member of a police force shall not draw a handgun or discharge a
firearm unless he or she believes, on reasonable ground, that to do so is
necessary to protect against loss of life or serious bodily harm'." 

 "Quite correct, Lynda," Fraser said. 

 Francesca glared at her brother. "Thanks, Ray. There goes your Christmas
gift." 

 "Alright, Lynda!" Stanley smiled. "Now, you think you could stop studying
at least until Christmas is over?" 

 Lynda smiled as she took the forty dollars and put it in her wallet.
"Sure, Dad. Unless, of course, Ray wants to bet again." Ray grumbled under
his breath as he folded his arms. 

 "Lynda, bring me the files on Fred Hines," Welsh called from his office. 

 Lynda grabbed the files off her desk and made her way over to Welsh's
office. After she closed the door behind her, Ray turned to Stanley and
held out his hand. "Okay, Stanley, a deal's a deal." 

 Stanley smiled and handed Ray a twenty dollar bill from his jeans pocket.
"Thanks again, Ray. You, too, Frannie." 

 "Oh, no problem," Francesca smiled. "Anything to get Lynda to stop
rambling on and on about police procedures. She doesn't need to worry
about passing. She knows that stuff backwards and forward." 

 "Yeah," Ray agreed. "Lynda worries so much, and she doesn't need to." 

 "But tricking her?" Fraser asked. "Was it really necessary?" 

 "Fraser, we didn't trick her," Stanley said. "We just got her to stop
doing something she's already good at. She needed to stop, otherwise she
was going to drive everyone crazy." Fraser shook his head, but said
nothing. Lynda came out a few minutes later. "So, you promise you'll stop,
Lynda?" 

 "Promise." 

 "Cross your heart and hope to die?" 

 "Stick a needle in my eye. And if I don't say what I mean, then you have
the right to cut out my spleen." 

 "Yuck!" Francesca wrinkled her face. "That is disgusting, Lynda." She
walked away shaking her head. 

 Lynda sat down at her desk, and began working. As she typed her eyes fell
on a picture of her mother and herself, taken a few weeks before she was
murdered. Lynda stop typing and took the picture, remembering all the good
times she and her mother shared. She sighed sadly, knowing this year
wasn't going to be as happy as the others. 

 "Lynda?" Fraser looked down. "You okay?" 

 Lynda nodded. "Yeah . . . I guess." 

 Stanley looked down at the picture she was holding. He sighed before
kneeling beside Lynda. "Look, I know it isn't going to be the same without
your mother this year." 

 "I miss her so much," Lynda said softly. 

 Stanley hugged her tightly. "I do, too, Lynda. But do you think she's
want us to be sad right now . . . especially during Christmas?" Lynda
shook her head. "I mean, we did have fun getting your place decorated,
didn't we?" 

 Lynda smiled, remembering that day last Saturday . . .  

+ + + +  

 "Geez, Lynda, just how many decorations do you got?" Ray asked as he
tried pushing a three foot by three foot cardboard box into the living
room. He wasn't having much luck. 

 "Just five boxes, Ray," Lynda said, trying to hang some mistletoe on the
hallway entrance. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt,
and had thick, white socks on her feet. She finished tying the knot
securing the mistletoe, then went to help Ray. She nonchalantly hoisted
the box off the ground. Ray was not expecting that, and tumbled to the
ground. "Oops. Sorry, Ray." 

 "I'm fine," Ray said as he stood up. He straightened the wrinkles from
his black turtleneck and jeans as he walked over with Lynda to where
Stanley and Fraser were setting up her Christmas tree in a stand near the
balcony doors. 

 Lynda breathed in the fresh pine scent. "Oh, I just love fresh-cut
Christmas trees." 

 "And you have a remarkable taste in quality," Fraser said. He was dressed
in a red flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. 

 "Thanks, Fraser," Lynda smiled as she set the box on her couch near Dief.
He was just lounging around, watching his human companions. "I really want
to thank you guys for coming with me and helping me chop it down. I don't
think I would have been able to get it up here by myself." 

 "Hey, no prob," Stanley said as he opened up one box and began rummaging
around in it. He was dressed in jeans, a gray T shirt, and brown boots.
"Kinda reminded me of when we went to the Yukon." He fingered the pine
leaves of the tree. "Hey, just what kind of pine tree is this, anyway?" 

 "Fraser," Lynda answered. 

 "Lynda, I'm serious." 

 "Stanley, Lynda is quite correct," Fraser answered. "This particular pine
tree is a Fraser Fir." 

 "You gotta be joking," Ray said. 

 "No, I'm not." 

 Stanley shook his head. "Whatever. So, Lynda, where do you want to start?
The tree?" 

 "Tree's last, Dad. Let's do the living room, then the kitchen, *then* the
tree, okay?" 

 "Okay. So, which boxes go where?" 

 Lynda opened up the box she put on the couch, and pulled out a large pine
wreath, two feet in diameter. "This is going to go above the mantle." She
put it on her coffee table. "Fraser, I have a paper bag on the third shelf
on my refrigerator. Could you get it for me, please?" 

 "Sure," Fraser nodded, and went to the kitchen. He came back with a large
paper sack in his hands, and handed it to Lynda. 

 "Thank you, Fraser." She opened the bag and pulled out a bunched of fresh
holly berries and pine cones. "Okay, every year this wreath is decorated
with fresh pine cones and holly berries. All you have to do is just stick
them in between the pine leaves. Don't worry, they'll stay." She handed
each of them some berries and cones, and they got to work. Within fifteen
minutes, the wreath was nicely decorated and hung above the mantle. 

 "Wow, that looks good," Ray said. 

 "Now, let's decorate the mantle," Lynda said as she rummaged through an
opened box. She pulled out some angel statues and candles, and put them on
the mantle. 

 Fraser looked in the box and saw a stocking with his name on the white
part, and a 

sequined Stetson in the center of the red part. He pulled it out. "Lynda,
is this my stocking?" 

 Lynda smiled and nodded as she walked over to him. "Do you like it?" 

 "I've never had a stocking before," Fraser answered wistfully. "Thank you
kindly." 

 "Forget it, Frase. You're coming over Christmas morning to open presents,
although I don't know why you won't spend the night here. There's more
than enough room." 

 "Lynda, we've been over this before," Fraser said. "I don't want you to
see your Christmas present until Christmas." 

 "I won't peek," Lynda said. "Besides, I don't want you to spend Christmas
Eve evening alone in the Consulate. You're family . . . well,
metaphorically speaking." 

 "Now, Lynda," Fraser smiled. "I'll be fine. Ray will pick me up Christmas
morning at ten-thirty, and we'll be over at eleven for Christmas dinner." 

 Lynda smiled. "Okay, okay, but the offer still stands." 

 "I appreciate it." 

 "And, Ray, are you sure you don't mind spending Christmas with me and not
your family?" 

 "Lynda, it's no problem. Ma doesn't mind me missing Christmas dinner this
year. She understands how much it means to you for me to be here." 

 "Well, she's a very nice person," Lynda smiled. "I've gotten her
something special just because of that." She reached in the box and pulled
out three more stockings. "Here are the others." She lay three stocking on
the coffee table, one for Stanley, Ray, and Dief. On Stanley's stocking,
Lynda had sequined on a bunch of black feet - like the ones used in
dancing diagrams. On Ray's stocking, Lynda had sequined on a replica of
Ray's Riviera. And Dief had a doughnut sequined onto his stocking. "So,
what do you think?" 

 "Whoa," Stanley said softly as he picked up his stocking. "This is really
nice." 

 "I'll say," Ray said, delicately holding his. "Lynda, this is really good
work. Where did you find the time to do this?" 

 "Actually, I've been working on those ever since we got back from the
Yukon," Lynda answered. "Just doing a little each night, and on the
weekends. Now, what do you say we hang them up?" She grabbed a hammer and
some small nails from off the coffee table. Carefully, she hammered five
nails into the mantle, then let the others hand their stockings. 

 "Lynda, where's your stocking?" Stanley asked after they finished. 

 "Oh, right here." Lynda reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a
humongous stocking - about thirty times the size of a normal stocking. 

 "Lynda, don't tell me *that's* your stocking," Ray stared wide-eyed. 

 "Yeah," Lynda said seriously. "Mom got it for me when I was three." She
kept a straight face for about five second before bursting into laughter.
"Oh, you guys should have seen the looks on your faces!" 

 "That was not funny," Stanley tried not to smile, but couldn't. Pretty
soon, he was laughing as well. Ray was soon chuckling along, and ever
Fraser was grinning. 

 Lynda reached back into the box and pulled out a normal-sized stocking.
Lynda's name was stitched into the white part, and it was more worn and
faded than the others. Lynda hung it up between Stanley's and Fraser's
stockings, filling in the gap. "There, that looks better." 

 "How long have you had that stocking?" Ray asked. 

 "Ever since I was three. Mom personally stitched my name into it, and
I've had every Christmas since then. Now, we have a lot of work to do, so
let's get to it." 

 For the next hour, the fivesome busied themselves, finishing the living
room, then starting on the kitchen. When they were done, they attacked the
tree, putting up lights and hanging up tinsel and ornaments. 

 As they decorated the tree, Stanley removed an ornament from one of the
boxes and looked at it. It was handmade porcelain, with a picture of Diane
and Lynda in front of a Christmas tree. It was dated last Christmas. 

 "Hey, Dad, what's that?" Lynda asked as she came up to him. She saw the
ornament in his hands, and her smiled faded. "I was wondering where that
one was." She took the ornament in her hands, and just studied it. Soon, a
single tear fell down her cheek. 

 As she started crying, Stanley wrapped his arms around her and just held
her tightly. "Shh, it's okay, Lynda." He looked at Fraser and Ray, who
stood and watched. 

 "I miss her so much," Lynda sobbed, clutching the ornament tightly. "I
wish she was here." 

 "Me, too," Stanley answered. "I forgot how hard this must be on you,
since this is going to be your first Christmas without her. But I am here
for you, and I will *never* leave you." 

 "Promise?" Lynda asked. 

 "Promise," Stanley said firmly. 

 Lynda took her head off his shoulder and looked into her father's eyes.
"That's what Mom said. And look what happened to her." 

 "Lynda, it was unfortunate that your mother died," Fraser spoke up, "and
I know how hard it must be for you. I remember the first Christmas after
my mother was gone. It . . . was painful, I do remember that. But I got
through it, and you will as well." 

 "Does it ever stop hurting?" Lynda asked. 

 "No, I don't believe it stops hurting," Fraser answered. "But I have to
disagree with your father. I don't think your mother has left you. I think
she still watches over you, even though you can't see her. I know my
father watches me - " and sometimes visits as well "- so maybe your mother
watches you as well." 

 Lynda smiled slightly. "I never thought about it that way." 

 "You feel better?" Stanley asked. Lynda nodded, then took the ornament
and hung it on the tree, right where it could be seen the moment someone
looked at the tree. Stanley smiled. "Perfect." 

 "Not quite," Lynda said. She pulled a white star with silver lining out
of the box. "This goes on the top." She tried putting it up there, but the
tree was almost seven feet tall, and Lynda wasn't. "Drat, I hate being
short." Stanley looked at Ray, who nodded. Without warning, they hoisted
Lynda into the air, letting her sit on their shoulders. Lynda was
flabbergasted at first, but then smiled as she secured the star on the top
of the tree. Very carefully, the two Detectives set her back on the
ground. "Thanks, guys." 

 "No problem, Lynda," Ray said. "Ready to turn the lights on?" 

 "Dad, you want to have the honors?" 

 "Sure." Stanley reached around the back of the tree and plugged int he
light. The tree sparkled with tiny golden lights. 

 The four stood back and admired their work, while Dief lay on the sofa. 

 "Great job, guys," Lynda smiled. "I have never seen a more beautiful
tree."	

+ + + +  

 "We did have fun that day, didn't we?" Lynda smiled. 

 "I'd say so," Stanley smiled. 

 "I don't mean to interrupt," Fraser spoke up, "but can I have a word with
you and Ray, Stanley?" 

 "Sure," Stanley nodded. He and Ray left with the Mountie, leaving Lynda
and Dief by themselves. They walked over to the closet, and Fraser opened
the door. "Oh, Fraser, not the closet!" 

 "Yeah, Benny, people are starting to talk! Can't this be said out here?" 

 "It's about Lynda's gift," Fraser answered. "I don't want to take the
chance of being overheard." 

 Stanley and Ray sighed before going into the closet. Fraser followed,
closing the door behind them. They stood around in the darkness. 

 "So, what did you get her, Benny?" 

 Lynda was typing at her keyboard when she heard her father's voice: "YOU
GOT HER WHAT?!?!?!?" She jumped up from her desk and ran over to the
closet with Dief, where she saw her father and friends go in. She put her
ear to the door and listened. 

 "Fraser, are you CRAZY?!" Ray shouted. 

 "Not that I'm aware of," Fraser answered calmly. 

 "What would possess you to think she'd want another one, Fraser?" 

 "By her body language." 

 "No, Fraser," Stanley said, "you are not the guru of body language. I'm
the guru of body language, remember? I haven't seen any body language from
Lynda." 

 Lynda raised her eyebrows. They were talking about her. Interesting. 

 "How much money did you have to pay, Fraser?" Ray asked. 

 "Five hundred dollars." 

 Lynda's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Fraser spent five hundred
dollars on her Christmas present. She couldn't believe it! "Fraser!" she
shouted as she yanked opened the closet door. "Five hundred dollars?" 

 "Lynda, were you listening in on our conversation?" Fraser asked. 

 "Only after I heard Dad shout at the top of his lungs." 

 "Lynda -" 

 "Fraser, don't say a word, okay?" Lynda interrupted. "Look, I'm sorry,
but I can't accept your gift." 

 "You don't even know what it is," Ray said. 

 "I don't care," Lynda answered. "I can't ask any of you to spend that
much money on me. I'm sorry." She turned and walked away. 

 "Pardon me," Fraser said as he went after Lynda. He left Ray and Stanley
standing in the closet. 

 Lynda marched down one of the Station's corridors. She couldn't believe
that he had done this. No one had ever spent that much money on one gift
for her, not even her own mother. 

 "Lynda?" The young Civilian Aid turned around to see Fraser hurry up to
her. "Do you want to talk?" 

 "Fraser, how could you?" 

 "I don't understand." 

 "Five hundred dollars for a lousy gift?" 

 "Lynda, I would never get you a lousy gift." 

 "That's not the point. The point is you spent too much money on me.
Couldn't you have gotten me something a little less expensive?" 

 "Yes, but it wouldn't have been something you would have liked." Fraser
took a deep breath. "I know that five hundred dollars *is* a bit
extravagant for a gift, but I know this is something you've always
wanted." 

 "What is it?" 

 "You're going to have to wait until Christmas. Please?" 

 Lynda sighed. "I just feel bad. I didn't spend that much money on your
gift, Fraser." 

 "That doesn't matter. When you got my gift, did you think about how it
would make me feel?" Lynda nodded. "Then that's all that matters. It's how
much thought went into the gift, not how much the gift cost that counts." 

 "That's pretty," Lynda smiled. 

 "Everything okay?" Ray asked as he walked up to the duo with Stanley and
Dief walking with him. 

 "Yeah," Lynda nodded. "I'm cool . . . so, you guys know what Fraser got
me?" 

 "Yeah," Stanley answered. 

 "Come on, tell me," Lynda begged. "Puh-lease?" 

 "No way, Lynda. You're going to have to wait until Christmas." Lynda
grumbled before marching back to her desk. Stanley turned to Fraser. "So,
she really okay?" 

 "Yes, she was just a little taken aback that I spent so much on her
gift." He cleared his throat. "Uh, speaking of which, her gift is supposed
to come in tomorrow at three. Would one of you be willing to give me a
lift to Union Station?" 

 "Sure," Ray said. 

 "I'm coming, too. I gotta see this." 

 "That's fine," Fraser nodded. "Thank you kindly." He turned to walk away,
but Stanley stopped him. 

 "Oh, listen, you guys want to come over to my place and watch the Bears
on cable? We can order pizza, and have drinks and stuff." 

 "Sure," Ray asked. "And what about Lynda?" 

 "Lynda's coming," Stanley sounded slightly offended. "She's always
allowed over." 

 "Bears are kicking butt this year," Ray said. "Maybe they'll go to the
Super Bowl." 

 "I'll come as well," Fraser nodded. 

 "Dief's welcome, if that's okay." 

 "He can come," Fraser said. 

 "Okay, my place," Stanley replied. "Game starts at seven." 

 "Fraser and I will get the pizza and stuff," Ray said. 

 "Cool," Stanley nodded. The three walked off getting ready to face the
rest of the day.  * * * *  

 "I still think you're wrong, Dad." 

 "I am not, Lynda." 

 "Yes, you are." 

 "No, I'm not." 

 "Are too." 

 "Are not." 

 "Too." 

 "Not." 

 "Too." 

 "Not - why are we arguing like this?" Stanley stopped in front to his
apartment door and 

unlocked it. 

 "Because it's fun," Lynda smiled. She walked in after her father held the
door open for her. Her smile faded as she glanced around the apartment.
"Dad!" 

 "What?" the Detective asked as he closed the door shut behind him. 

 "Your apartment. I thought you said you were going to keep it clean." 

 "I've been busy," Stanley answered as he went into his bedroom and shut
the door. 

 "Too busy to put dishes in the sink?" Lynda asked as she picked up two
plates that were stuck together. "Yuck." She grabbed a shirt hanging off
the couch and sniffed it, then wished she hadn't. "Or do you laundry?" 

 "Hey, I don't tell you have to live, do I?" Stanley called out from his
room. 

 "No, because I live in a cleaner apartment. This place looks like
something Roto Rooter would be interested in." 

 "Har dee ha ha," Stanley said sarcastically. "Watch it. You may be my
daughter, but I will -" 

 "You'll what?" Lynda asked as she went over to see her father's turtle.
"Dad, don't even threaten me, okay? I can kick your butt, remember?" She
picked the turtle up and just held him. "Hello there, little guy." The
turtle came out of his shell and stared back at Lynda. 

 "All I'm saying is that if you don't watch it, then you can watch the
Bears on your own TV set." 

 Smiling, Lynda put the turtle gently back in its aquarium. She knew her
father would never kick her out, especially during a football game, and
especially if they were spending time together. "So, when did Ray and
Fraser said they'd be over?" 

 "After they picked up the refreshments. Chips, pizza, beer for me and
Ray, and Coke for you, Fraser, and Dief." 

 Lynda noticed Stanley's answering machine was blinking, showing he had
new messages. Knowing her father would probably ignore them, Lynda pushed
the 'play' button. 

 Beep. "Yes, this is Roger Preston with the *IRS*. This is for Detective
Kowalski. This is the *third* time I've called, Detective. We *really*
need to talk about your tax records. Call me as soon as you get this
message." 

 Beep. "Uh . . . I think I go the wrong number. Sorry." 

 Beep. "Hey, Son, it's your old man. Look, sorry to spring this on you at
the last minute, but your mother and I are coming to spend Christmas with
you, considering your brother is out of country for the holidays. We'll be
in town tomorrow, on a plane. I know, surprise, surprise, but we didn't
want to spend a lot of time on the road. Well, see you tomorrow afternoon,
Stanley. We'll call when we land at O'Hare. Later." 

 Lynda raised her eyebrows. Her father's *parents* were coming up? This
was new. Oh, Lynda knew that her father had parents, but he never talked
about them, so she assumed they were dead. And a *brother*? She had an
uncle? 

 Stanley came out, changed into a pair of black sweats and socks, no
shoes. "Heard the answering machine. So, who called?" 

 "The IRS, a wrong number," Lynda said, "and your father." She turned
around, arms folded. "Care to tell me anything, Dad?" 

 "My father?" Stanley looked surprised. "What'd he want?" 

 "He and your mother are coming up tomorrow for Christmas." 

 "Really?" Stanley asked innocently. 

 "Oh, don't give me that innocent Detective routine. Why didn't you tell
me you had parents . . . and a brother?" 

 "My brother's coming up, too?" 

 "No, he's out of the country. But that's not the point. The point is that
you never told me I had other relatives. Why?" 

 "Lynda - " 

 "Do they know about me?" 

 "No, and they're not going to." 

 "What? Why?" 

 "Because I said so, that's why," Stanley answered angrily. "Now just drop
the subject." 

 "I will not. I want to know how you're going to get out of not telling
them, considering how they're going to wonder why we look so much alike
and spend so much time together." 

 "Well, we're not going to spend any time together, then, are we?" He
flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote, flipping the set on. 

 Lynda felt like she had been slapped in the face. A single tear fell down
as she actually touched her cheek. Without saying a word, she quickly left
the apartment. She walked down the hallway toward the elevator, and nearly
ran into Ray, Fraser, and Dief. They were carrying refreshments for the
game. 

 "Oh, hey, Lynda," Ray smiled. He stopped when he noticed the tears
falling from the young woman's eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

 "Dad says he doesn't want to spend Christmas with me," Lynda sobbed. 

 "What?" Ray asked. "Why?" 

 "I don't know. All I know is that his parents are coming here and he said
he didn't want to spend Christmas with me anymore." 

 "Oh, I'm sure that was just a misunderstanding," Fraser said calmly. 

 "No, it wasn't," Lynda replied. "He said, 'well, we're not going to spend
any time together, then, are we?'" Lynda sniffled and wiped her nose with
the back of her sleeve, something she hadn't done in years. "When his
father called, saying he and his mother were coming to town for Christmas,
I was really looking forward to the possibility of having grandparents." 

 "But what about your mother's parents?" Fraser asked. 

 "They hated me," Lynda said bitterly. 

 "I'm sure you don't mean that. Grandparents love their grandchildren with
all their hearts." 

 "Oh yeah?" Lynda looked up at the Mountie. "Three months after Mom found
out she was pregnant with me her parents nearly persuaded her to get an
abortion. While Mom was in college her parents said they would only take
care of me if she paid them. When I was four her parents told me that
since they didn't like Dad - and that I reminded them of Dad - they didn't
have to like me either. And when I was five they put me up for adoption
without Mom knowing about it. Luckily, nothing happened. So, you call that
love, Fraser? Then it must be different from the 'love' I know." 

 "Why didn't they like you?" Ray asked. "How could they *not* like you?" 

 Lynda gave a half-smiled. "You know how everyone says Dad and I look and
act like each other? Well, Mom's parents didn't like the fact that Mom was
dating Dad in high school; Mom's family was Gold Coast . . . and Dad's
wasn't. And since I reminded them about Dad, both by my looks and
personality, they didn't like me." 

 "Does your father know this" Fraser asked. 

 Lynda shook her head. "No, and I'm too angry at him to tell him right
now. You guys can watch the game without me." Lynda left her friends and
disappeared around the corner of the hallway. 

 Ray and Fraser looked at each other. Dief gave a loud whine. Fraser
smiled at the wolf. "Yes, you may go and keep an eye on her." The wolf
hurried after Lynda. 

 "So, what do you want to do?" Ray asked. 

 "We need to let Stanley know what Lynda told us, and we need to ask why
Stanley doesn't want Lynda to meet his parents." 

 The two friends walked to Stanley's apartment door. Fraser knocked once.
Stanley opened it after a few moments. The two friends walked in. Stanley
shut the door. 

 "We ran into Lynda on the way up here," Ray said bluntly. "What's going
on between you two?" 

 "She wants to meet my parents," Stanley answered. "Look, I know she's
upset, but what's the big deal?" 

 "Stanley, did you know that Diane's parents didn't love Lynda at all?"
Fraser asked. 

 "What?" Stanley looked confused. Fraser told him everything while Ray put
the food and drinks in the kitchen. Stanley stomach was ice by the time
Fraser had finished. "No wonder she was so upset." He sighed and lowered
his head. 

 "Why didn't you want your parents to meet her?" Ray asked. 

 "Because I don't want Lynda to get hurt again." 

 "What do you mean?" Fraser asked. 

 "Remember when Lynda and Stella met for the first time? Sure they're on
friendly terms now, but Stella already had an opinion about Lynda before
knowing who she really was. I don't - I don't want Lynda to go through
that again." 

 "I've met your parents," Fraser said gently, "and I know without a doubt
they will like Lynda." 

 "Yeah," Ray nodded. "I mean, who *wouldn't* like Lynda?" 

 "People who try to kill her," Stanley said wryly. He sighed. "I guess I
have a lot to learn about being a good father." 

 "Stanley, you are a good father," Fraser smiled. "You really care for
Lynda, and only want her to be safe and happy." 

 "You just gotta watch what comes out of your mouth," Ray said quickly. 

 Stanley glared momentarily at the other Detective. "I guess I *do* have
an apology to make, don't I?" 

 "Not now," Fraser said. "Lynda needs to cool off." 

 "So, we still on for the game?" Ray asked cautiously. 

 "Yeah, I guess. Let's watch the Bears kick some Viking butt." 

 The three friends got the refreshments and settled in just as the first
play of the game begun.  

* * * *  

 Stanley woke up the next morning feeling hungry. He stumbled out of bed,
wearing the black sweat pants and a white tank top. He yawned as he opened
his door, rubbing his eyes. A sudden clanking sound jarred him fully
awake. Someone else was in his apartment; in the kitchen, to be exact. 

 Stanley quietly went back into his bedroom and retrieved his gun and
glasses. He put his glasses on, then released the safety on his gun.
Slowly and quietly, he walked out of his bedroom. 

 He made his way into the living room, caring not to step over the junk
that littered his floor. His foot connected with an end table, knocking it
to the ground. Stanley caught it before it hit the ground, then sat it
upright. His big toe throbbed with pain where he stubbed it. Stanley
cursed to himself. 

 As he walked toward the kitchen, he stopped and turned around. Last night
he had a bunch of dishes and stuff on that table. So, why didn't it all
crash when the table fell? Stanley shrugged it off. He went over and stood
near the kitchen entrance, out of sight. 

 Okay, Stanley, let's assess the situation: one, you have someone in your
house. Two, that person is in your kitchen. Three, that person is . . .
cooking? Stanley sniffed the air. Bacon? Fresh-made waffles? Coffee?
Stanley raised his eyebrows. Someone breaks into my castle to make me
breakfast. Why do I find this strange? 

 Because, it is strange. 

 I think it's sweet. 

 Who asked you? 

 No one. 

 Then shut up. 

 Stanley, you're having a conversation with yourself, while some wacko is
in your kitchen. Do the sensible thing: shoot now, ask questions later. 

 Stanley took a deep breath before he rushed into the kitchen. "Chicago
PD! Don't move!" 

 Standing at the counter, dressed in her Civilian Aid shirt, black slacks,
and tennis shoes was Lynda. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with a
white scrunchie and she had her back to her father as she stirred some
bacon in a fryer. "Hi, father," she said without turning around. 

 "Lynda?" 

 "What, you were expecting someone else?" 

 Stanley looked down at the gun he was aiming at his daughter, then
lowered it and took off his glasses. "Actually, yeah, considering how I
shouldn't be expecting my daughter at - " a quick glance at his microwave
clock showed it was six-thirty " - six-thirty? Lynda, why the hell are you
over here cooking breakfast at six-thirty in the morning? For that matter,
why are you over here anyway?" 

 "Well, since your parents are coming in, and most likely they're going to
be staying here, your place needed to be straightened out. So, I decided
to do it for you, knowing how busy you can be." She took a spatula and
transferred the bacon to a plate. 

 "Uh, thanks," Stanley said, not bothering to hide his surprise. He looked
around the kitchen. The counters were cleaned, the cabinets were scrubbed,
the sink was shiny, and empty of dirty dishes. A quick peak in the fridge
showed it to be organized and stocked with milk, eggs, butter, vegetables.
"Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" 

 "Yeah," Lynda answered, putting the fryer in the sink and soaking it. "I
also cleaned up the living room, but I left all your clothes for you to
do. And I couldn't find a vacuum, so you're floor's a little dirty still."


 "I don't have a vacuum." 

 "Why am I not surprised?" 

 "Does this mean you're not mad at me?" 

 "Oh no, I'm not mad at you, Dad. I'm just really disappointed in you."
She grabbed her suede jacket and purse from the kitchen table. "Now, if
you'll excuse me, I'll see you at work." She put her jacket on. 

 "Lynda, I -" 

 "Save it," Lynda interrupted before marching out of the kitchen. A few
seconds later the front door slammed shut. 

 Stanley stood there for a minute. He sighed and lowered his head. He knew
what he had to do. Even though he loved freshly-made waffles, bacon, and
coffee, he left the kitchen and went to go take a shower. He had suddenly
lost his appetite.  

* * * *  

 " . . . and Jaeger tossed the ball to Bennett," Ray said excitedly.
"Bennett plows through the Vikings' defense team like they're nothing but
toothpicks, runs fifty-seven yards for the winning touchdown. And the
final score is Bears, 35, and Vikings, 14." 

 Lynda smiled. "Must have been a great play." She was at Ray's desk with
the Detective and Fraser. She was munching on half of a cheese Danish. The
other half she fed to Dief, who sat next to her. 

 "You didn't watch it at your place?" Fraser asked. 

 "No," Lynda answered. "I played my piano for three hours, working on some
of my songs, then I went to bed. I didn't feel like watching the game
after what happened last night." 

 "Lynda, your father didn't know," Ray said gently. "He felt bad about how
he treated you when we told him why you wanted to meet his parents." 

 "I don't care," Lynda said. "The fact of the matter remains is that he
said he didn't want to spend Christmas with his own daughter." 

 Ray looked past Lynda to see Stanley coming into the Squad Room. He was
dressed in a grey shirt with brown jacket thrown over it, a pair of
stone-washed jeans, and brown boots. He was carrying a pair of black
gloves and a stack of mail in his hands. "Well, speak of the devil." 

 The group watched as Stanley made his way over to Ray's desk. "Hi," he
said. 

 "Good morning, Stanley," Fraser nodded. "How are you?" 

 "Okay, I guess," Stanley replied. "Ray." 

 "Stanley," Ray nodded. 

 Stanley looked at Lynda. "Good morning, Lynda." 

 "Get a life," Lynda said before walking away. 

 Stanley grabbed her arm gently. "Wait a second. We need to talk." 

 "I have nothing to say to a person who doesn't want to spend Christmas
with his daughter." 

 "Well then you can hear me out," Stanley said firmly. "Now look, I made a
complete jerk of myself last night, okay? I didn't know how much it meant
for you to see my parents." 

 "But what about when you said you didn't want to spend any time with me?"
Lynda asked. "Did you mean that?" 

 "No, of course not," Stanley answered. "I was an idiot for saying that." 

 "Why don't you want me to meet your parents?" 

 "I didn't want to take the chance of you getting hurt again." 

 "Huh?" Lynda looked confused. 

 "Remember when you first met Stella?" Lynda nodded. "Well, I know you
guys get along now, but she already formed an opinion about you before
knowing who you really were." 

 "And you didn't want to take that change with your parents?" Lynda asked.


 Stanley nodded. "Yeah, Lynda. I care about you." 

 "So, you're going to tell them about me?" Stanley nodded. Lynda smiled as
she hugged her father tightly. "Thanks, Dad." 

 "But I'm not going to tell them right away," Stanley said. " I was
thinking about this when I was coming into work. First, when they show up
today, I'll introduce you as Lynda Peterson. Then, we'll see how they like
you. Then I'll tell them everything." 

 "What if they don't like me?" Lynda asked. 

 "Lynda, who could not like you?" 

 "People who want me dead?" Ray groaned. "What, Ray?" 

 "That's what Stanley said last night," the Italian-American Detective
said. "You two really are alike." 

 "Well, that usually goes with being related," Lynda smiled. "You act like
each other." 

 "Oh, Lynda, I got your mail," Stanley said as he handed her the stack of
envelopes. 

 Lynda flipped through them. "Lots of Christmas cards," she said. She tore
open one of them and read it. "'Hoping your Christmas is full of joy.
Willie Lambert. P.S. thanks for the card'." She smiled. "Oh, that's
sweet." She opened another one. "May your holidays be merry and bright.
Say hi to your father, Constable Fraser, and Detective Vecchio for me.
Buck Frobisher'." 

 "Someone's very popular," Ray teased. "Getting all these Christmas cards.
How many is it now? Thirty, thirty-five?" 

 "Thirty-four," Lynda said as she put the cards down on Ray's desk. "These
two, plus the four you guys sent, one from Welsh, Francesca, Tom, Jack,
Mort, Annie, Alana, seven people from Mom's company, Uma, the Mayor, the
Superintendent, the Governor, three friends from high school, and one from
each of the band members." She started going through her mail. "Bills,
bills, bills - why are bills sent out before Christmas?" 

 "That's how the company's get their money," Stanley said. "They have
merry Chrismases only by making yours a living hell." 

 Lynda smiled. "Well, it's not going to work. I have to much to be happy
about. I -" She stopped as she came to a plain white envelope, no return
address, no stamp. Just her name written on the front. Lynda raised her
eyebrows as she opened it. Inside was a Christmas card. "Make that
thirty-five Christmas cards." 

 "Who's it from?" Ray asked. 

 Lynda opened it up and read the inside. "'May your Christmas be filled
with joy and happiness. May your New Year be filled with promise and
prosperity. Derek'." 

 "Derek?" Stanley asked. "As in the FBI Agent Derek? The guy who lied to
you about who he really was?" 

 "Well, I don't know any other Dereks, Dad." She read the card again.
"Wonder why he sent me a card, considering?" 

 "Maybe he's trying to be nice," Fraser suggested. "It is Christmas, after
all." 

 Lynda sighed. 

 "You okay?" Ray asked. 

 "Yeah," Lynda said. "I'm just a little surprised, that's all." She
gathered up all her mail. 

 "You want me to get rid of that?" Stanley offered. 

 "No, Fraser's right," Lynda said. "It's Christmas." 

 "Lynda," Welsh called from his office. "Bring me the Gregory file." Lynda
left. 

 Stanley's phone rang. The Detective rushed over to his desk and answered
it. "Detective Kowalski." He smiled. "Hi, Mom, how are you? That's great .
. . and the plane ride? Oh, I'm glad . . . now? Sure, yeah, I'll be here.
Okay . . . I'll see you and Dad in an hour, then." He hung up, then went
back over to Ray's desk. "Mom and Dad are going to be here in an hour." 

 "You sure about this?" Ray asked. 

 Stanley nodded. "Yeah." 

 "Don't worry," Fraser said gently. "You'll be fine." He noticed the blond
Detective's face was turning blue. "You just might want to consider
breathing a little." 

 Stanley breathed out, then took a deep breath as he looked up at the wall
clock. One hour. Man, this was going to be the longest hour in the history
of time.  

* * * *  

 Exactly one hour had passed before Derek and Barbara Kowalski came into
the Squad Room. They looked around at the sea of faces. Suddenly, someone
bumped into them from behind - hard. Three bodies went tumbling to the
ground. Papers flew everywhere. Derek looked to see a young brunette in
her late twenties sitting on her rear end, looking dazed. She was wearing
a Civilian Air shirt, black slacks, and platform shoes. 

 "Ooh, sorry about that," Francesca said as she gather up her papers. "I
didn't see you there. Are you two alright?" 

 "We're fine, deary," Barbara said as she and her husband stood up. "Are
you okay?" 

 "Yeah," Francesca stood up, straightening her papers. "Can I help you
with anything?" 

 "We're looking for our son, Stanley," Derek said. 

 Francesca's eyes widened. Stanley had told her - and the rest of the
Squad Room - about what he was planning with his parents and Lynda.
"Y-y-you're Stanley's parents?" she stammered. 

 "Uh, Miss, you look a little pale," Derek pointed out. "You okay?" 

 "Oh . . . I'm fine," Francesca said quickly before hurrying away. 

 "Hey, Mom, Dad." 

 Derek and Barbara turned around to see their son approaching. 

 "Oh, Stanley, it's good to see you," Barbara smiled as she hugged her
son. "Merry Christmas." 

 "Merry Christmas, Mom." 

 "Hello, Son," Derek smiled, shaking Stanley's hand. "How are you?" 

 "Pretty good. How was the plan ride?" 

 "Okay, except for the meal. The only thing with food content was the
plastic silverware." 

 Stanley chuckled. "Come on, you guys look cold. You can warm up over at
my desk." He led his parents through the Squad Room. Every once in a
while, someone would stare at the threesome. Finally, they reached his
desk. "Here you go. Can I get you anything to drink?" 

 "Coffee," Derek answered. 

 "Hot chocolate," Barbara smiled. 

 "Okay," Stanley nodded. "Frannie!" 

 "What?" Francesca asked as she walked up. 

 "Could you get my parents one coffee and one hot chocolate?" 

 "Sure," Francesca answered before leaving. 

 "Well, if it isn't Constable Fraser," Derek smiled as Fraser, Ray, and
Dief approached. 

 "Mr. Kowalski," Fraser smiled before shaking the man's hand. He nodded at
Barbara. "Mrs. Kowalski. It's nice to see you two again." 

 "Hello, Whitey," Barbara smiled, petting the wolf. Dief just nuzzled
against her, enjoying every bit of the attention. "Oh, it's good to see
you again." 

 "Mom, Dad, this is my partner, Ray Vecchio," Stanley said, nodding toward
Ray. 

 "It's a pleasure to meet both of you," Ray smiled. 

 "Ray Vecchio?" Barbara asked. "As in the Ray my son was pretending to
be?" 

 "The same one, Mom," Stanley smiled. 

 "Wait a second," Derek said. "Son, you're blond-haired and blue eyes, and
you dress like a bag lady." He turned to Ray. "You're brown-haired with
green eyes, and you dress like GQ. Anybody else see the difference, or am
I the only one?" 

 "Here's the drinks," Francesca said, coming up to the desk and setting
two cups of steamy liquid on it. "Be careful, they're still hot." 

 "Hey, Frannie, have you seen Lynda?" Stanley asked. 

 "She's in with Welsh." Francesca walked away. 

 "So, how's the policing business?" Derek asked. 

 "Pretty cool," Stanley answered. "Bad guys do something stupid, we lock
'em up, city is safe. Nothing much cooler than that." 

 "How's the car?" 

 "Oh, Dad, working like a beaut. You know -" 

 "There you are," Lynda said as she walked up to Stanley's desk. She was
carrying a stack of manila folders. "Welsh got onto me about the reports
you filled out on the stakeout you did." She shot a stern glare at Ray.
"You, too, Ray. So, since you both made the mistakes, you both can go
through all twenty of them, because I won't." She dropped the folders on
Stanley's desk. 

 "Lynda, I hate computers," Stanley said. "You know that." He gave her a
little kick in the shin. "Besides, I'm busy . . . with my *parents*." 

 Lynda shot a knowing glance, and nodded. She took a deep breath. She was
nervous, but she didn't show it. "Oh, I'm sorry D - uh, Stanley." She
smiled at Derek and Barbara. "Hi, I'm Lynda. Lynda K - Peterson." 

 "Derek and Barbara Kowalski," Derek said. 

 "Derek?" Lynda asked. "You're joking, right?" 

 "And what's wrong with Derek?" Derek asked. 

 "Uh, Dad, Derek is the name of Lynda's ex-boyfriend. Ended badly." 

 "Oh." 

 "Aren't you a little young to be working here?" Barbara asked. 

 "I'm nineteen years old." 

 "Lynda's the best thing to happen to this place in a long time," Stanley
said. "She smart and she knows her way around computers. In fact, she
re-programed the entire system over seven months ago after she found a
virus in the old system." 

 "She's very considerate and caring," Fraser said. "Compassionate,
understanding -" 

 "Funny and talented," Ray added. "She sings couple nights a week in a
restaurant." 

 "And she likes classics cars," Stanley said. "She owns a 1957 Chevy
Convertible in mint condition." 

 "It was in mint condition until Chris and Vince decided to bang it up a
few weeks ago," Lynda said. "Ray, thanks again for talking to your cousin
and getting him to fix it so quickly." 

 "Yeah, well, I told Al if he didn't get it back quickly and in good
repair, then I would destroy his garage." 

 Lynda smiled. "I also keep Ray and Stanley in line," she joked to
Stanley's parents. "They tend to act a bit immature at times." 

 "Lynda, you know you look very familiar," Barbara spoke up. 

 Stanley paled slightly. "Uh, well, Mom, she's Diane's daughter," he said
quickly. 

 "Diane?" Derek asked. "Diane Peterson? The girl you used to date?"
Stanley nodded. 

 "She was a wonderful girl," Barbara smiled. "How is she?" 

 "Dead," Lynda answered. "She was killed about eight months ago." 

 "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," Barbara said. "Yes, you look like Diane, but
you also look like . . . I know this sounds bizarre, but like Stanley." 

 Stanley cleared his throat. 

 Lynda took a deep breath. "Look, I gotta - " A loud shouting interrupted
her. Everyone looked to see Dief run out of the lounge with a doughnut in
his jaws. Huey and Dewey were running after him. 

 Fraser looked down to where Dief had been laying. When did he sneak off,
the Mountie wondered. "Oh dear." 

 "I'll get him, Fraser," Lynda said before tearing after the wolf and
Detectives. "Okay, Dief! Drop the doughnut and put your paws where I can
see them!" 

 Everyone watched as the three humans chased after the wolf, who was
enjoying every minute of his little 'game'. Ray, Fraser, and Stanley
joined in, leaving Stanley's parents to watch. Soon, the entire Squad Room
staff was chasing after the wolf, who had long since finished off his
prize. 

 Finally, Lynda managed to tackle the wolf, grabbing him around his hind
feet, and banging her elbow against the hard floor. "Gotcha!" Fraser,
Stanley, Ray, and Fraser soon joined her. 

 "I'm going to kill that wolf!" Huey said as he walked up to Lynda and
Dief. 

 "Oh, no you won't," Lynda stood firmly in front of Dief. 

 "Lynda, he stole my doughnut," Huey said angrily. 

 "Well, you shouldn't have left it where he could get to it, Jack," Lynda
retorted. "He's been hanging around here for four years. You should know
better by now." She led Dief away. "Come on, boy, let's go back to my
desk." 

 "I cannot believe she's actually defending him," Huey said. He turned to
Fraser. "Fraser, keep that wolf away from my doughnuts. I'd like to be
able to enjoy one every once in awhile." 

 "I'm terribly sorry, Huey," Fraser apologized. "I'll reimburse you for
it." 

 "So," Dewey said, "I see your parents are here, Stanley. Have you told
them, yet?" 

 "No, not yet," Stanley said. "Soon, though." 

 The Duck Boys left, and the others went back to Stanley's desk. 

 "Well, it seems that the wolf has gotten on Lynda's soft side," Derek
smiled. 

 "Yes, and I'm trying to break her of that habit," Fraser said wryly.
"Although, it doesn't appear to be working." 

 Stanley took a deep breath. "So . . . what do you guys think of her?" 

 "She's a nice young woman," Barbara said. "Although, she seems to have a
little attitude, just like you, Stanley." 

 "So, you like her?" 

 "Oh, of course, Son," Derek smiled. "She may have an attitude, but she is
very sweet." 

 "I'm glad," Stanley ran a hand through his hair. "There's good reason why
she looks and acts like me." It was now or never. "You see . . . Lynda is
my daughter." 

 Derek frowned slightly. "What do you mean, Stanley?" 

 "What I mean is that she's Diane's daughter . . . and she's my daughter."
He took another deep breath. "Diane and I got married right after senior
prom." 

 "You told us you went camping with some friends," Derek said. 

 "I'm sorry I lied to you, but I didn't know what to say . . . are you
mad?" 

 "No," Barbara shook her head. "Just a little shocked, Stanley. That's
all." 

 "Well, I *am* mad," Derek raised his voice angrily. The entire Squad Room
halted to a stop. Everyone watched and listened. 

 "What was I supposed to say?" Stanley asked. "'Mom, Dad, I'm married'?" 

 "Why didn't you tell us you had a daughter?" Derek asked. 

 "I didn't know about Lynda until she showed up here eight months ago
asking for my help." 

 "You could've called - " 

 Barbara touched her husband's arm. "Honey, please. We can't change what
happened in the past." She looked past Stanley, Ray and Fraser. "Besides,
we have a granddaughter to meet." 

 Everyone turned to see Lynda standing nearby. They watched as she slowly
walked up to Stanley. She took a deep breath, but said nothing. 

 "Mom, Dad," Stanley said as he put an arm around Lynda's shoulders, "I'd
like you to meet my daughter, Lynda Kowalski." 

 Barbara was the first to come over. She smiled as she hugged Lynda. "Oh,
I don't believe this. I have a grandchild." 

 Derek, in spite of himself, came over and hugged Lynda as well. Stanley
looked at his partners. They were both smiling, just as he was. In fact,
the entire Squad Room was smiling at the happy reunion. Francesca was
sniffling and dabbing her eyes with a tissue. 

 Welsh chose that moment to come out of his office. He saw the commotion,
then leaned over to Dewey and Huey. "What's going on?" 

 "Stanley just told his parents about Lynda," Dewey answered. 

 When the hugging finally stopped, Lynda grabbed a tissue off of Ray's
desk. She began dabbing her eyes. 

 "You okay?" Stanley asked. 

 "I'm happy," Lynda smiled. 

 "Does Stella know?" Barbara asked. 

 "Yeah, and she's okay with it," Stanley answered. "And, no, I wasn't
married to both Diane and Stella at the same time. Diane's parents
annulled the marriage a month after we got married. That's when they found
out Diane was pregnant and that's why they moved." 

 "You know," Barbara turned to Derek, "we need to get Lynda a Christmas
present." 

 "Barbara, I don't think we need to bother with that." 

 "Nonsense. As grandparents, it's our job to spoil our grandchild. And we
have nineteen years of Christmases and birthdays to catch up on." She
turned to her son. "Stanley, you're going to take us Christmas shopping
for Lynda." 

 "Uh . . . Mom, really, you don't need to - " he was stopped by a look
from his mother. "I'll just get my coat and gloves." He grabbed his winter
clothes and began putting them on. 

 Ray looked at his watch. "Hey, it two-thirty, Fraser. We'd better leave
now if we want to get to Union Station by three." He smiled one last time
at Stanley's parents. "It was good to finally meet you. Take care, Lynda."
He left with Fraser behind him. 

 "And what about me?" Lynda asked, folding her arms over her chest. 

 "Uh . . ." Stanley scanned his desk. "Do the reports?" 

 Lynda tried to look angry, but smiled. "Thanks a lot, Dad." 

 "You're welcome," Stanley smiled as he kissed her on the cheek. "If we're
not back by the time you get off, we're going to go back to my place so
they can settle in, okay?" 

 "Why don't they stay at my place?" Lynda suggested. "There's more room,
and it'll give us the chance to get to know each other better." 

 "Is that okay?" Stanley asked his parents. "Lynda has two extra bedrooms
and she's cleaner than I am." 

 "Sure," Barbara answered. "We'll just need to get our stuff from the
front desk on our way out." 

 "Okay," Stanley nodded. "See you later, Lynda." 

 "Be careful," Lynda said as she took the stack of files off her father's
desk. "Roads are a little slick." She walked back to her desk. 

 "She's really sweet," Barbara. "Takes after her father." 

 "Thanks, Mom," Stanley smiled. "Well, let's get going." 

 The three Kowalskis left the Squad Room together.  

* * * *  

 Lynda was lounged out on her couch, sipping hot chocolate. A fire was
burning in the fireplace, and soft Christmas tunes emanated from her
stereo. She had come home from work and changed out of her work clothes
into a pair of black spandex pants, a long-sleeved red and white plaid
shirt, and thick white house socks. 

 A sudden commotion caught her attention. Lynda looked up to see Stanley
and his parents enter the apartment, each carrying two stuffed shopping
bags, plus some luggage bags. The young woman jumped up from her spot and
went to help. "Hey, need a hand?" 

 "Oh, no you don't, Lynda," Stanley said after everyone was safely inside.
He shut the door with his foot. "Shoo. These are your Christmas gifts. Mom
decided to make up for nineteen years at one time." He looked around. "Uh,
where can these go?" 

 "You can take them to the library room," Lynda said. "Your parents can
wrap them there, and sleep there if they want. It may be easier,
considering how often I go into the computer room to do my research." 

 "Cool." The three Kowalskis disappeared down the hallway. Stanley
returned a few minutes later by himself. 

 "Where are you parents?" Lynda asked as she went into the kitchen. "Want
something to drink?" 

 "Yeah, thanks," Stanley answered, as he ventured over to the Christmas
tree. Already, presents were stuffed under it. "They wanted to get the
presents wrapped immediately - at least, Mom did." He eyed one gift marked
To: Dad, From: Lynda. He picked it up and shook it slightly. Lynda came in
a few moments later, with a fresh mug of hot cocoa. She handed it to
Stanley, then sat back on the couch. Stanley joined her. "So, what do you
think of them?" 

 Lynda sipped her drink. "They're very nice. I'm glad you decided to
introduce us." 

 "Well, they really like you," Stanley said as he propped his booted feet
on the coffee table. Lynda shot him a look. Stanley took his feet off.
"Sorry." 

 "It's okay. So, what did you tell them about me?" 

 "Well, I told them that you've helped out a lot on our cases at work,
that you sing in a country band and that you're going to be singing
Christmas Eve, and that you're graduating from the Academy in a few weeks
and also about the possibility about you becoming a Detective." 

 Lynda smiled. "This is going to be a great Christmas." 

 "It most certainly will," Stanley returned the smile. "I got my parents
and my daughter with me, as well as my closest friends. Nothing could be
better." 

 Father and daughter sat back against the couch, sipping the cocoa and
watching the flames dance in the fireplace. Outside, the snow swirled and
danced amidst cold winter winds.  

* * * *  

 Finally, Christmas Eve was upon the city of Chicago. Snow was falling
lightly as the sun disappeared below the horizon, and the temperatures
fell into the low teens. Lynda sat in her dressing room at Harry's Bar and
Grill, finishing up the last touched of her costume for the evening. As
she brushed her hair and applied her makeup, she thought about the last
two days. 

 She and Stanley's parents had really clicked and were getting to know
each other really well. They had talked about anything and everything,
mostly about Lynda and what she liked and disliked. 

 A knock on her door jarred her back to the present. "Yes?" 

 The door opened and Harry entered. He was dressed in jeans and a hunter
green turtleneck. "You ready, Lynda?" 

 Lynda stood up from her vanity, taking one last glance in her mirror. She
had chosen to wear a pair of black jeans and boots, and a red cardigan
sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a bow made out of gold tinsel. "Yeah,
let's go." 

 She walked out with Harry and stood with her band behind the stage
curtain while Harry made the introductions. Lynda clutched her microphone
and took a deep breath as the was a smattering of applause. The curtains
parted as the band struck up its first number. Lynda smiled, the spotlight
shining on her, as she sang her first song:  

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas 

Everywhere you go; 

Take a look in the five-and-ten, glistening once again 

With candy canes and silver lanes aglow. 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, 

Toys in every store, 

But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be 

On your own front door.   

A pair of hop-a-long boots and a pistol that shoots 

Is the wish of Barney and Ben; 

Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk 

Is the hope of Janice and Jen; 

And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again.  

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas 

Everywhere you go; 

There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well, 

The sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow.  

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas; 

Soon the bells will start, 

And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing 

Right within your heart.  

 She finished her song. The audience rang out with loud applause. Lynda
looked over to where she knew her friends and family would be sitting, and
sure enough, they were. Stanley, her grandparents, Ray, Fraser, Dief,
Welsh, Huey, Dewey, Francesca, Turnbull, Thatcher, Alana, and Annie were
crowded into three tables, clapping like crazy. 

 "Thank you," she smiled as she talked into her microphone. "It's really
great to be here on this Christmas Eve, to see all the smiling faces. I
hope that all of you are enjoying the holiday season so far. I know I am."
She took in a deep breath. "Well, let's get back to the singing, shall we?
This next song is a personal favorite of mine. Contrary to what you may
think, I wasn't an exact angel when I was younger. In fact, there was one
year when I was so bad, that my mother threatened to cancel Christmas at
the house. So, this next song is appropriate, and I hope you enjoy it."
The band played the next song as Lynda belted out:  

Broke my bat on Johnny's head; 

Somebody snitched on me. 

I hid a frog in sister's bed; 

Somebody snitched on me. 

I spilled some ink on Mommy's rug; 

I made Tommy eat a bug; 

Bought some gum with a penny slug; 

Somebody snitched on me.  

Oh, I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas 

Mommy and Daddy are mad. 

I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas 

'Cause I ain't been nuttin' but bad.  

I won't be seeing Santa Claus; 

Somebody snitched on me. 

He won't come visit me because 

Somebody snitched on me. 

Next year I'll be going straight; 

Next year I'll be good, just wait 

I'd start now, but it's too late; 

Somebody snitched on me.  

So you better be good whatever you do 

'Cause if you're bad, I'm warning you, 

You'll get nuttin' for Christmas.  

 Everyone laughed as she finished up the song. "Thank you. Before I sing
my next song, I need to ask a question. How many of you have ever asked
for something unusual for Christmas?" Almost ninety percent of the
audience raised their hands, including Lynda and her band. "Okay, that
makes singing this next song easier."  

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas 

Only a hippopotamus will do 

Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy 

I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy  

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas 

I don't think Santa Claus will mind, do you? 

He won't have to use our dirty chimney flue 

Just bring him through the front door, that's the easy thing to do  

I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs 

Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes 

to see a hippo hero standing there  

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas 

Only a hippopotamus will do 

No crocodiles, no rhinoceroses 

I only like hippopotamuses 

And hippopotamuses like me too	

Mom says the hippo would eat me up, but then 

Teacher says a hippo is a vegeterian  

There's lots of room for him in our two-car garage 

I'd feed him there and wash him there and give him his massage 

I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs 

Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes 

to see a hippo hero standing there  

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas 

Only a hippopotamus will do 

No crocodiles or rhinoceroseses 

I only like hippopotamuseses 

And hippopotamuses like me too!  

 Once again, the audience applauded. Lynda looked over to see even her
grandparents enjoying themselves. Lynda grinned before walking over to a
stool that was set aside on the stage. She placed it in the center of the
stage and sat on it, crossing her legs. "This next song I'm going to sing
is dedicated to my mother. She was killed over eight months ago, and this
is going to be my first Christmas without her. I changed some of the words
around to make this song appropriate. This is dedicated to my mom,
wherever she is."  

Did you ever really start to cry 

Over something you just wrote 

Well, I'm writing you my dear St. Nick 

It's the saddest little note 

Is it fair come this Christmas Eve 

That I should be alone 

When she knows how much I'm missing her 

Would you kindly bring her home?  

This girl's letter to Santa Claus 

It's gonna tear him up 

When he reads how much I'm missing her 

It's gonna' tear him up  

I'm sure if all his reindeer 

Could arrange room on his sleigh 

Then I'd receive a big bright package 

And she'd be home today  

I'll be missing you come Christmas 

Wishing hard my dear 

Missing you come Christmas 

Wishing you were here  

Did you ever really start to cry 

Over something that was said 

Well, I'm writing you dear Santa 

It's the saddest thing you ever read 

Is it fair come Christmastime 

That I should be without you 

You know how much I miss you Mom 

Won't you kindly help me through  

This girl's letter to Santa Claus 

It's gonna tear him up 

When he reads how much I'm missing her 

It's gonna tear him up	

I'm sure he'll write a special note 

To remind him Christmas Eve 

That he has to mend a broken heart 

That believes in make believe  

Right above his VIP we'll be ranking number one 

No sadder request will he receive 

He'll know it has to be done  

Hey Santa, if you're my friend 

Please take heed, it's not pretend  

This girl's letter to Santa Claus 

It's gonna' tear him up 

When he reads how much I'm missing her 

It's gonna tear him up	

 Lynda finished the song, a tear in her eye. She stood up and bowed as the
audience clapped. "Well, it's not good to be sad at Christmastime - I
know, my father told me that." She flashed a quick smile at Stanley. "So,
let's say we get to some happier songs, okay?" For the next hour, Lynda
sang traditional, and some non-traditional songs, told some stories, and
sang some more. But like all good times, it ended way too soon. 

 Lynda sang her last song, then said goodbye to everyone, wishing them a
safe and Merry Christmas. She left the stage with her band members, wished
them off, then went to go be with her friends and family for one more
celebration before they went their own separate ways for the holidays.	

* * * *  

 "' . . . and a partridge in a pear tree'!" 

 Back at Lynda's apartment, her little group of friends and her family
spent an hour singing songs, telling stories, and just having a great
time. Lynda was seated at her piano, finishing up 'The Twelve Days of
Christmas'. Everyone, minus Annie and Alana who left for their homes right
after the concert, were gathered around, drinking egg nog. "So, any other
requests?" she asked. 

 "How about we open presents?" Ray suggested. 

 "Sure," Lynda said as she got up from the bench and went to the tree. She
retrieved gifts for Francesca, Welsh, Turnbull, Thatcher, Huey, and Dewey,
since they were leaving to spend Christmas with their own families. She
each gave them their own gift. "I hope you guys like them." 

 Welsh was the first to open his. Inside a little box was a gift
certificate to the local deli. He smiled at Lynda. "Thank you, Lynda."
Thatcher was second. Lynda had gotten her a brooch in the shape of the
Canadian flag. Thatcher thanked her with a smile. Dewey and Huey were
next. Lynda had gotten them a new hockey stick and drumsticks,
respectively. Both were very happy by their gifts. Turnbull had received a
new set of watercolors. He smiled gleefully as he hugged Lynda. Francesca
had gotten a bottle of her favorite nail polish and copy of Shania Twain's
Come On Over CD, since Francesca seemed to like the songs Lynda would sing
from it. 

 As everyone was oohing and aahing over their gifts, Lynda's grandfather
clock struck ten o'clock. Lynda gave a small frown, but knew it was time
for the party to end. "How about one last song?" she asked. Everyone
agreed. Lynda went back over to the piano and sat down. Her fingers glided
gently over the ivory keys as she played the last song of the evening.
This time, everyone sung along:  

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. 

Let your heart be light, 

From now on our troubles 

Will be out of sight.  

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, 

Make the Yule-tide gay, 

From now on our troubles 

Will be miles away.  

Here we are as in olden days, 

Happy golden days of yore, 

Faithful friends who are dear to us 

Gather near to us once more.  

Through the years 

We all will be together 

If the Fates allow, 

Hang a shining star 

On the highest bough, 

And have yourself 

A merry little Christmas now  

 After the song was finished, everyone quietly gathered up his or her
things and left. Lynda wished each and every one of them a very merry
Christmas. Soon, she was alone in the apartment with her grandparents,
Dief, and Stanley - who was going to spend the night. They all cleaned up
the mess from the party, then got ready for bed. 

 Lynda was in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of hunter green, flannel
pajamas and a red terry robe. She had a pair of wolf slippers on her feet.
Stanley came in, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and white t-shirt. He
noticed Lynda putting some fudge on a small plate that was next to a glass
of milk. 

 "Whatcha doing?" he asked, leaning up against the door frame. 

 "You'll see," was all she said as she took the plate and glass out to the
living room and placed them on the coffee table. She put a tiny note card
on top of the fudge. It simply said To Santa. 

 "Lynda, don't you think you're a little old to be believing in Santa
Claus?" Stanley asked in disbelief. 

 "Not when you're a child at heart," Lynda smiled. She noticed Dief eying
the plate hungrily. "Don't even think about it, Dief." The wolf whined.
Lynda sighed before taking a piece of fudge and giving it to Dief. "But
that's all." 

 "Fraser's right; you do spoil that wolf." 

 Lynda stood up and went to straighten the stockings on the mantle. She
had managed to sew two for her grandparents in such a short time. Stanley
tried to peek inside his already stuffed stocking, but Lynda stopped him.
"Bedtime, Dad. I'll secure everything for the night." 

 "Okay," Stanley replied before kissing his daughter on the cheek.
"Goodnight." 

 "Goodnight, Dad." 

 Stanley left Lynda and Dief, and disappeared down the hall to the
computer room where he was going to sleep. Lynda checked the lights on the
tree (she was going to leave them on for the night), then made sure the
fire was completely out. After that she went outside on her balcony and
looked up. 

 The snow had stopped falling and the wind had stopped blowing. The clouds
were gone, leaving the sky clear and bright. Below, the city seemed to be
still and quiet as the cold air. Lynda breathed in and out, each breath
becoming a cloud and disappearing into the night air. A single tear formed
in the corner of her eye. 

 "You know," she spoke out loud, "Fraser said you may be out there, Mom,
so maybe you 

can hear me . . . I hope you can." She took a deep breath. "It's been
really great so far, meeting Dad's parents for the first time. They're
really wonderful people. And being with my real father and spending our
first Christmas together is one of the best things that could ever happen
to me." 

 The tears flowed down her eyes. "But it's also the first Christmas
without you. I miss you so much, Mom, and it really hurts. Dad, and Ray,
and Fraser have been terrific in being there for me whenever I need them,
but I still need you." She wiped the tears from her cheek. "But I know
that isn't possible, and I shouldn't dwell on it. I hope that wherever you
are, you're happy. I love you, Mom. Merry Christmas." Lynda turned and
silently went back inside.  

* * * *  

 The next morning, Lynda stumbled out of bed as she looked at her clock.
It read eight fifty-three. Lynda put her bathrobe and slippers on and
quietly ventured out into the living room. Dief was underneath the coffee
table, licking his lips. Lynda looked at the empty plate and glass, then
shook her head, smiling. 

 "Merry Christmas, Dief," she whispered as she sat down on the sofa. 

 Dief came out and put a paw in her lap. "Woof." 

 "Be patient," she answered. "When Dad and Grandma and Grandpa get up, and
Ray and Fraser come over, then we'll open gifts, okay? Now, you want to
help make breakfast?" 

 Dief followed Lynda into the kitchen. Lynda immediately got her coffee
maker going, knowing she and her father would definitely be wanting some
java. Then she busied herself making a very light breakfast. 

 She was in the middle of preparing some grapefruit when Stanley came in
yawing. Lynda smiled, handing him a ready-made cup of black coffee.
"Morning, Dad. Merry Christmas." 

 "Mmm," Stanley answered as he sat down at the kitchen table. He sipped
his drink, then smacked his lips. "Hey, did you put Smarties in here?"
Lynda nodded. "Thanks." 

 "No problem." Lynda brought over two plates with grapefruit halves on
them and two spoons. She sat next to her father and began eating. 

 Stanley sniffed the air. "You got the turkey going already?" 

 "Yeah, at five-thirty," Lynda answered. "It should be ready at about two
this afternoon." 

 Dief sat next to Stanley and whined. Stanley looked down. "What?" 

 "He wants your grapefruit," Lynda answered. 

 "No way," Stanley hugged his plate closer to him. "It's mine." He began
chowing down on his food. Pretty soon, both his parents ventured into the
kitchen. Lynda got their breakfast, then they all sat down and began
talking. 

 "So, Constable Fraser and Ray are coming over?" Barbara asked. 

 "Yeah," Stanley answered. "They're like family to Lynda, so they agreed
to spend Christmas over here." 

 Breakfast was over within the hour, and the four Kowalskis cleaned up
their mess, then went to go get dressed. By the time they were done, Ray
and Fraser were knocking at the front door. 

 "Hey, guys," Lynda greeted them brightly. She had changed into a pair of
jeans and a wool sweater. "Merry Christmas." She noticed they were
carrying a huge box between them. "Uh . . . what's that?" 

 "Your present," Ray gasped. He was dressed in a black Armani suit. "And
if you don't move, it's going to be broken." Lynda quickly moved aside,
letting her two friends in. They hurried over to the tree, and carefully
sat the box down. "Whew." 

 "So . . . that's the big gift, huh?" Stanley asked. He had changed into a
pair of jeans and a white shirt. 

 "Yes, it is," Fraser asked. He was in a white shirt, with a blue flannel
shirt over that, jeans and boots. "Merry Christmas, Stanley, Lynda, Mr.
and Mrs. Kowalski, Diefenbaker." He looked at Lynda, who was eyeing the
box with curiosity. "Well, Lynda, you ready to open it?" 

 "Can I?" Lynda asked hopefully. 

 "Sure," Fraser smiled. Everyone gathered around as Lynda knelt beside the
box. Fraser, Ray, and Stanley shared a three-way smile as Lynda lifted the
top off. 

 There was a small whine and a furry head popped out, along with bright
blue eyes and a wet black nose. Its face was covered in a light grey mask
like that of a wolf. Grey fur covered its body, intertwined with white. A
grey furry tail swished back and forth as the creature jumped up and
licked Lynda on the nose. 

 "Oh!" Lynda smiled. "I don't believe it!" 

 "Do you like him?" Fraser asked, smiling. 

 "Yes," Lynda answered as she petted the large dog. "Is he really -" 

 "Yes, he's really a wolf," Fraser answered. "Seventy-five percent, to be
exact. The other twenty-five percent is Siberian Husky. He's eleven months
old, and his name is Regan." 

 Regan had managed to climb out of his box, and began climbing over Lynda,
licking her and barking. "Oh, Fraser, how did you know?" 

 "I saw the way you looked at Diefenbaker, and by how much you cared for
him. I knew you needed you own companion, and that's why I picked Regan. I
found a place that breeds wolf/husky hybrids, and purchased Regan when he
was three months old. Then I had him sent to a friend of mine who lives in
Edmonton, Alberta, who specializes in training dogs for the RCMP. He was
really nice in training Regan, so you don't have to worry about that." 

 Lynda scratched Regan behind his ears. "Can you sit, Regan?" Regan
immediately sat on his haunches. "Good boy! Can you speak?" Regan barked
loudly. "Oh, good boy!" She petted Regan furiously. Suddenly, she glanced
at Fraser. "Uh, Fraser, what about Dief?" 

 "Oh, don't worry about that," Fraser answered. "Diefenbaker knew about
Regan when I purchased him, so he doesn't mind." In fact, Regan was
already trying to get Dief to play, but Dief just rolled onto his side,
pretending to ignore him. "Just as long as Regan knows Dief is ranked
higher than him." 

 Lynda quickly got up from her spot on the floor, went over to the
Mountie, and gave him a big hug. "Thank you, Fraser." 

 Fraser returned the hug. "You're welcome, Lynda." 

 "Well, this is nice, but let's open up the rest of the gifts, okay?" Ray
asked. 

 The six humans dug into the rest of the presents under the tree. Besides
Regan, Lynda had received a basket containing every Sun-Ripened Raspberry
Scent from Bath and Body Works from her grandparents, and an assortment of
clothes and jewelry. Ray had bought Lynda a light brown Armani suit,
complete with shoes. Dief had gotten her a stuffed wolf, which looked
remarkably like him. 

 Stanley had given Lynda the bracelet he had given Diane on the night of
their wedding. "She had given it back to me before she left with her
parents," he explained. "I never got the chance to give it back, so I knew
you should have it." He gently put it around Lynda's right wrist. "Merry
Christmas, Lynda." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

 "Merry Christmas, Dad," Lynda smiled. 

 Stanley had received a bunch of things from his friends: clothes, a book
from Fraser about watermarks, and a picture of himself and Diane taken
right after they got married from Lynda. He knew he would treasure it
forever. 

 Ray had received a gift certificate for one new Armani suit from Fraser,
a new set of lock picks from Stanley, and an autographed basketball by the
Bulls from Lynda. 

 Fraser had gotten a compass from Ray (to replace the one he broke when
they were being chased in the woods that one time), a single of 'Nobody's
Girl' in which Fraser did the backup singing from Stanley, and a small
leather-bound book by Lynda. It was a journal. "I figured someone needed
to keep up the family tradition," Lynda smiled. 

 Since they had come in unexpectedly, Lynda didn't have much time to get
her grandparents a gift, so she had taken a picture of herself and her
father, gotten a silver frame, and wrapped it up. Derek and Barbara
couldn't have asked for a better gift. 

 Diefenbaker was easy to shop for. Everyone, including Fraser, had gotten
him a five dollar gift certificate to the local doughnut shop. Fraser
never said a word. 

 After the presents and stockings had been distributed, the six humans and
now two wolves cleaned up the mess. While the men watched football Barbara
and Lynda went to work in the kitchen, preparing the biggest feast known
to man. Every once in awhile, Lynda would glance at her grandmother, or
sneak a peek into the living room, and smile. 

 It was indeed a very Merry Christmas.	

THE END