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Mistletoe in Mayhem Boxed Set 
by L.E. Rico

Copyright © 2018 by L.E. Rico. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Christmas Chaos

Chapter One

Hennessy

“Swans?” Bailey asks, fork poised midway between her plate and her mouth. “Really? Swans?”

“Sure, why not?” Bryan responds amiably.

“Uhhh…because all the water will be frozen. Where do you expect these swans to be? In the bathtub?” Walker pipes up from across the table.

I’m trying not to chuckle as my sisters grill my fiancé over Thanksgiving dinner. Bryan is taking this very seriously—the swan discussion being just the latest in his never-ending plans for our forthcoming nuptials…right on the heels of the butterfly release argument and the great white dove debate.

“Bryan, honey, I keep telling you, I don’t need anything big and splashy. You, me, a priest…I’ll be golden. Swans are totally optional.”

“Hey, don’t forget about your maid of honor and your ring bearer!” Jameson reminds me as she wipes some sweet potato off my nephew’s chubby cheeks.

“Honka!” Jackson yells and begins to bang his fork on the tray of his highchair. “Swan honka!”

“That’s right, baby!” his mother coos. “The swan says ‘honk!’”

“And your bridesmaids,” Bailey pipes up. “Walker and I better be there, too,” she warns.

“I’m just teasing,” I assure them. “I’d never get married without all of you.” I lean close to Bryan and continue in a stage whisper. “We can still elope, you know. You book the tickets to St. Croix, and I’ll get us packed. We can be married and sipping drinks on a beach tomorrow night…”

No one is amused by this idea, least of all, Bryan.

“And how many times do I have to tell you, Hennessy O’Halloran? We’re doing this once, and I want the world to know how much I love you. I want this to be the biggest, baddest wedding that Mayhem has ever seen—one that they’ll be talking about for years to come!”

“Oh, they’ll be talking about it, all right…” Walker mutters as she rolls her eyes.

Bryan shoots her a dirty look.

“What is it with you guys? I thought it was the bride’s side that went all gaga over the wedding details. Why am I the only one who cares about this stuff?” he grumbles.

“It’s not that we don’t care, Bryan,” I explain. “It’s just that weddings here are much more low-key than what you’re used to in L.A. I mean, more often than not, the reception is at the VFW hall with a polka band and a hotdish buffet.”

“Okay, okay—look, don’t get me wrong, I love a hotdish as much as the next guy, and, believe it or not, polka is starting to grow on me. It’s just that I want this wedding to be…special. Because you’re special. But, if you want to scale back or elope or go local…just say the word.”

When I look into his eyes, all I can see is his sincere desire to make this a perfect day. And, for Bryan, that equates to the big, fancy wedding. Simply put, he wants it more than I don’t want it. And that’s enough for me. So I smile and kiss his cheek.

“I just want to marry you. I don’t care how we do it.”

“I still don’t get why you’re making yourselves so crazy trying to have this wedding before the end of the year. Why not just wait till after the holidays and give yourselves a breather?” Scott asks, undoubtedly thinking of his own upcoming wedding to my sister—and his brother’s ex-wife—Jameson.

“Haven’t you ever heard this story?” she asks Scott, who shakes his head. “Well, Mama and Pops were engaged. He was in the Army reserves back then—and, right before Christmas, he got word that his unit was being activated and would be deployed before New Year’s Day.”

Here, Walker picks up to continue the story.

“They were supposed to be married in the summer—Mama had always wanted to be a June bride. But they didn’t know when he’d come home…”

“Or if he’d come home,” Bailey adds. “The Iron Range lost a lot of men during the Vietnam War and, back in the nineties, that was still a very painful memory for a lot of people around these parts.”

Now I step in to wrap-up the story that we’ve heard and repeated hundreds of times before. It’s one of our last links to our parents.

“So…they went to the church, hoping that crotchety old Father Benedict would cut them some slack—”

“Henny, please don’t blaspheme a man of God,” Jameson chides.

“Fine. Sorry. So, they went to the church, hoping that Father McGrumpypants would cut them some slack and skip all the usual pre-wedding counseling that the church usually requires.” Walker snorts, Bailey giggles, and Jameson just shakes her head. I continue. “So, they get there, all prepared to state their case…except Father Benedict isn’t there. It’s this young, dark-haired, dark-eyed, swarthy-looking priest instead. Turns out Father Benedict was called home…”

“Oh, jeez,” Scott interjects, “he died?”

“What? No!” I laugh. “He was literally called home! To Montana! His brother was sick and Father B. went back to help with his care. Turns out that this newbie priest ended up here in Mayhem, Minnesota, and he was only too happy to see these two joined in holy matrimony before Pops was set to leave. But the first slot he could accommodate a wedding mass was on Christmas Eve—after the five o’clock service and before the midnight mass.”

“That was Father Romance, in case you haven’t figured that out yet, Son,” Big Win informs Scott. “I remember that day. Most of the town turned up to see those two married. You and Win were too young to remember, but as your mother and I had just moved to town, the girls’ parents—Jack and Elaine—were quick to include us in their celebration. It was something real special,” he adds a little wistfully.

“And ever since I was a little girl,” I continue, “I always knew I wanted to be married on Christmas Eve, just like our parents. So, when Bryan and I got engaged, we had to decide if we’d take our time and get married next Christmas Eve or scramble to put together a wedding in just a few short months so we could do it this Christmas Eve.” Bryan grabs my hand in his and gives it a firm squeeze.

“As far as I was concerned, there was only one option. I didn’t want to wait fifteen minutes—let alone fifteen months—to make her my wife,” Bryan explains. Then he glances over at Jameson and Scott. “You know…we could just as easily have a double wedding…”

“What?” Jameson and Scott gasp at the same time, shaking their heads in unison.

“Dude! We just got engaged like five minutes ago!” Scott exclaims. “Besides, I think we’re gonna do the VFW hall with the polka band and the hotdish buffet.”

We’re all laughing. Well, almost all of us are laughing. Across the table, I catch a glimpse of Win Jr.—my former brother-in-law—shifting in his seat uncomfortably. It can’t be easy for him, listening to his ex-wife talk about marrying his brother. But the fact is I’ve been increasingly impressed by Win’s behavior since he and James split. He’s been respectful—pleasant, even. And right now, he gets bonus points for joining the whole wedding discussion.

“So…uh…am I the only one who thinks it’s a little risky to use Jackson as the ring bearer?” he asks.

“No, I’m right there with you,” Scott agrees. “I have visions of the kid eating the ring and you guys having to dig through diapers until it ‘reappears.’”

“Ughh! Gross!” Bailey says in disgust as she tosses her sweet potato-filled fork back down on her plate. The mushy, orange food undoubtedly creates a crystal clear visual in her mind.

“I think he’ll be fine,” Bryan proclaims confidently with a wave to the toddler. “Right, Jax?”

“Piggy!” the toddler yells. “Oink oink, piggy!”

Bryan pats his stomach. “Hey! I didn’t eat that much…”

Jameson rolls her eyes. “It’s the pink tie,” she says, pointing to Bryan’s chest. “We’ve been working on our colors, and p-i-g-s are pink,” she explains. “Anyway, I think he’ll be fine for the wedding…”

“Yeah, so long as the bridesmaid’s dresses aren’t pink,” Walker says. “I can just see the little guy pointing at us as we walk down the aisle—screeching ‘piggy!’ at the top of his lungs.”

“Nope, no pink dresses,” I assure her. “Actually, I’m pushing for burgundy.”

“I could do that,” Bailey informs us.

“Yeah, that’s not too bad,” Walker agrees.

“Jameson?” I press.

“I love burgundy. But why should you have to push for anything? Who is this designer, anyway?”

I try not to roll my eyes as I answer. “It’s a designer Bryan knows in L.A. Her name is Katarina Rostrovich.”

“That’s Rostropovich, honey,” Bryan corrects me.

I growl under my breath, and he gets the idea. He also gets a wicked little smirk on his face. He really likes it when I growl at him. Walker notices.

“Oh, for fuuuuuu…” Walker stops her irritated utterance mid-sentence, knowing that Jameson will kill her if she curses in front of Jackson. She tries again. “For fork’s sake, will you two cut it with the googoo eyes over there before I toss my turkey?”

Big Win snorts. Loud. So loud, that little Jackson points to his grandfather.

“Piggy, Goppa! Piggy!” he screeches with delight right before he flings turkey into his mother’s hair.

Baby Bedlam

Chapter One

Jameson

June

I cover my mouth to hide the yawn I just can’t hold back another second. It doesn’t help that the room is dark and quiet—the only light coming from the glowing screens of the equipment all around us.

“Hey! No falling asleep during my sonogram!” my sister, Hennessy, says as she swats me from her reclined position on the examination table.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’ve been on my feet all day—three emergency C-sections, one preemie, and a breech since I got here—and I haven’t even had lunch yet.”

“Well, maybe Kathy here can relieve you up on Labor and Delivery for a while,” Henny’s husband, Bryan, jokes to the sonogram tech.

My colleague is not amused. In fact, she looks rather alarmed at the suggestion.

“What? No, no, no. I stay off the third floor whenever possible. Don’t you know? Pregnancy is contagious! And I’ve already had my four. No, sir, no way, no how,” she replies, shaking her head adamantly.

“It is not!” I counter. “Stop scaring my sister or she’ll never come to visit me at work again!”

Hennessy pats her newly minted, rapidly-growing baby bump and shrugs.

“I don’t know… I kinda like the idea of having a big family. So if we met up for lunch whenever I wanted to get pregnant again…”

“Um…just to be clear,” Bryan says from his seat on the opposite side of the table, “we’d still be able to do it the…er…usual way, right?”

“Don’t worry, honey. Whatever it takes…” Hennessy assures him with a squeeze of his hand.

Kathy snorts as she squirts the warm gel onto my sister’s tummy.

“Jeez, Hen, slow down on the cheese curds, will ya?” I tease. “You’re not even four months yet and you already look like you’re six!”

“Yeah, well, not everyone’s as lucky as you were, James.” Henny turns to Bryan. “You couldn’t even tell she was pregnant until she was nearly seven months! And, even then, she just went up a size in her regular clothes. Didn’t buy a single pair of these awful, stretchy maternity pants!”

“I guess I was lucky like that,” I muse, remembering my non-pregnancy pregnancy fondly.

“Maybe if you didn’t eat so much pie, Hen,” Bryan offers. “She can’t seem to get enough mincemeat pie—Janet Lahti is baking around the clock to feed her craving.”

I make a face. “Eww…really? Mincemeat, Henny?”

“Jameson, I seem to recall you sending Win out in the middle of a storm to get you oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“Huh…” I consider this for a second. “You know, I’d forgotten all about that! And now that you say it, an oatmeal raisin cookie sounds really good. Maybe I’ll bake some later…”

The thought of baked goods flies from my mind when I hear Kathy gasp at something she’s seeing on the screen. My eyes search through the black and white lines and swirls and flutters, looking for something out of the ordinary. And there it is.

My turn to gasp.

“What?” Henny asks, her eyes moving between Kathy, me, and the screen. “What’s wrong?”

“I…uh…” Kathy mutters. “Just…just give me a sec here…”

I stand up so I can get a closer look over her shoulder. “Is that…?”

Kathy nods.

Henny freaks.

“What’s wrong? Jameson—tell me what’s wrong with my baby!” she demands, struggling to sit up, even as Kathy keeps rolling the probe around, periodically clicking a mouse to capture an image of what she’s seeing.

“Oh my God! My kid has four arms! I knew it,” Henny wails miserably. “This happened to that woman! The one I read about on the web…”

Bryan is on his feet now, clutching her hand in his. “Hen, I told you to quit reading that crap! All it does is scare you. Jameson, please tell your sister that there are no extra limbs floating around inside her right now…”

Kathy and I look at one another.

I can’t tell her that, because it would be a lie.

…

“Twins?” Bailey shrieks. “You’re having…twins?” She’s jumping up and down now, her blonde ponytail bobbing up and down with her. “Oh…my…gawddddddd!”

“I know! Right?” Henny grabs our youngest sister’s forearms, and now the two of them are jumping up and down. “We’re having twins!”

I don’t have the energy to join them, but I do manage to cheer from the sidelines of a bar stool. Even the normally impassive Walker is grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold on,” she says, coming out from behind the bar to make her way to where Father Romance is standing, emceeing the weekly pub quiz.

He leans down from the dais so she can whisper in his ear. I see his brows go up in surprise before he catches the grin from Walker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to take a brief pause here for an announcement…”

There’s a collective groan from the packed house. We’re getting close to the semi-finals, and the teams don’t like anything that interrupts their quiz juju.

My sister, Walker, hops up on the dais and accepts the microphone from Father Romance.

“So…my sister, Henny, is expecting…” she begins.

“Yeah, yeah, we already know…” calls out one of the guys from the super-competitive Iron Range Mining team at table six.

“Dude, if you don’t pipe down, I’m going to cancel my inventory on your gluten-free beer.” That shuts him up—and fast. Satisfied, Walker continues. “Well, we just found out that she’s expecting twins!”

The whole place erupts into clapping, cheers, and whistles for Henny and Bryan, who wave their appreciation from the bar. But Walker’s not done yet.

“Our Pops and Mama would have been over-the-moon thrilled with this news. But since they can’t be here to celebrate this with all of us, I’m going to do what they would’ve done. Please join us in toasting Henny and Bryan Truitt with a free double round on the house—one drink for each baby!”

Now that gets an enthusiastic reaction—even from the grumpy table six.

“I’m sorry—did…did your sister just give away liquor?” Bryan asks us incredulously.

I shrug, not the least bit surprised by Walker’s actions. “She’s right—it’s what our parents would have done. Pops was in love with Jax from the second he knew I was expecting. Twins—well, that would’ve blown his mind.”

“Oh, yeah…he was nuts about the little guy,” Hennessy recalls. “Of course, he didn’t see him hit the terrible ones. And twos. And threes…”

“Hey!” I say indignantly. “May I remind you that you’re his godmother…”

She rolls her eyes and smiles. “I know, I know…you gotta admit the little booger’s a handful, though.”

I hop off the stool and put my hands on my hips.

“You’re right, Henny. Jackson is a handful. And the only thing worse than one handful…would be two!”

She stops, processing this for a moment, then turns to Bryan with a panic-stricken expression.

“Holy. Crap. Bryan, Jameson’s right! What if they both turn out to be as…you know…as active as Jax is? How on earth will we manage? You’ve got to work, I’ve got the pub…”

“Okay, slow down,” he replies soothingly as he holds up his palms. “We don’t have to do this alone.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Henny asks, not convinced. “I mean, we can invite your mom to come stay, but she won’t be here indefinitely…”

My brother-in-law takes my sister’s hand in his and gives her his most reassuring smile.

“Hen, I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’m going to take care of every detail.”

And with that single sentence, red flags go up, alarms sound, and warning lights flash. Those “famous last words” came from Bryan last year around this time when he took over the planning of their wedding. And, while it turned out to be more beautiful than anyone could have imagined, there was a whole lot of drama along the way—most of it caused by the high-end wedding planner he just had to have.

“Bryan,” Henny begins suspiciously, clearly thinking along the same lines as I am, “what exactly do you have in mind?”

“Hey! Don’t look so nervous.” He chuckles. “A nanny, Hen. We’re going to hire a nanny to help out.”

I’m staring at him. As are my three sisters. Nanny is a foreign word in our vocabulary. In fact, I can’t think of a single family here in Mayhem that employs one.

“Dude, you cannot be serious,” Walker says from behind the bar, where she’s filling all the orders for the drinks she’s just offered. “That’s so…so…”

“Hollywood,” Bailey supplies.

“Exactly!” Walker agrees enthusiastically. “People here don’t do…nannies.” The last word comes out sounding distasteful.

Bryan is smirking as he turns his attention my way.

“Tell me, Jameson, how nice would it have been to have a little help when Jackson was an infant? Someone to help with the late-night feedings? Someone to keep an eye on the little guy so you could catch a nap? Someone you trusted to be there at home so you could escape for an hour or two?”

I’m about to tell him I’d never allow some strange person around my baby…but then I stop and consider what this scenario might have looked like. As it was, Win took every opportunity to get out of the house and leave me alone with a sleepless, screeching, colicky baby. I was lucky if I could get a couple of hours of shut-eye. I was frazzled, exhausted, and I looked like hell. Not to mention that I was always—always—covered in spit-up in those early weeks.

“Honestly,” I begin a little sheepishly, “in the absence of a helpful, involved father—I’d have given just about anything just to have had someone mind the baby for even a half-hour every day. Just so I could take a shower and brush my teeth. Just so I could do a few of those little things that make you feel like a human being instead of a twenty-four-hour milk dispensary.”

“Jameson!” Bailey objects. “You know very well that we were all here for you when the munchkin was born—and we’ve never stopped helping.”

“Oh, Bailey, I know, I know,” I reply, quick to dispel the sense that I’m an ingrate. “I just mean that in those early weeks especially, you guys couldn’t be there all the time. You were still in high school. Henny was working down in the Twin Cities, and Walker…well, Pops really needed her at the pub a lot at that time. I mean, a lot of parents can count on their mother or mother-in-law…but, you know, I didn’t have either of those…”

My voice trails off a little wistfully. It would have been so wonderful to have had my mother nearby in those early days when I had no clue which end was up. And now poor Henny is going to have a similar experience—but with two screaming, sleepless, hungry infants. Even with Bryan’s help, it’s going to be a lot on her as a first-time mom.

I make a decision right here, right now, in this very moment. I will be there for my sister no matter what she needs—giving her the benefit of my experience, my company, and my love whenever humanly possible.

Because Lord knows she’s going to need it.