Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas

With a bounce in her step, LaVonne went into her condo, closing the door with a slam that shook her Christmas wreath, decorated with golden moons and silver stars. K.O. headed for her own undecorated door, which was across the hall. Much as she disapproved of her sister’s hero, she could hardly wait to tell Zelda the news.

Chapter 2

K.O. waited until she’d worked two hours straight before she phoned her sister. Zelda was a stay-at-home mom with Zoe and Zara, who were identical twins. Earlier in the year Zelda and Zach had purchased the girls each a dog. Two Yorkshire terriers, which the two girls had promptly named Zero and Zorro. K.O. called her sister’s home the Land of Z. Even now, she wasn’t sure how Zelda kept the girls straight, let alone the dogs. Even their barks sounded identical. Yap. Yap and yap with an occasional yip thrown in for variety, as if they sometimes grew bored with the sound of their own yapping.

Zelda answered on the third ring, sounding frazzled and breathless. “Yes?” she snapped into the phone.

“Is this a bad time?” K.O. asked.

“Oh, hi.” The lack of enthusiasm was apparent. In addition to everything else, Dr. Jeffries’s theories had placed a strain on K.O.’s relations with her younger sister.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” K.O. said cheerfully. “Can you talk?”

“Sure.”

“The girls are napping?”

“No,” Zelda muttered. “They decided they no longer need naps. Dr. Jeffries says on page 125 of his book that children should be allowed to sleep when, and only when, they decide they’re tired. Forcing them into regimented nap-and bedtimes, is in opposition to their biological natures.”

“I see.” K.O. restrained the urge to argue. “Speaking of Dr. Jeffries…”

“I know you don’t agree with his philosophy, but this is the way Zach and I have chosen to raise our daughters. When you have a family of your own, you can choose how best to parent your children.”

“True, but…”

“Sorry,” Zelda cried. It sounded as if she’d dropped the phone.

In the background, K.O. could hear her sister shouting at the girls and the dogs. Her shouts were punctuated with the dogs’ yapping. A good five minutes passed before Zelda was back.

“What happened?” K.O. asked, genuinely concerned.

“Oh, nothing.”

“As I started to say, I saw Dr. Jeffries.”

“On television?” Zelda asked, only half-interested.

“No, in person.”

“Where?” All at once she had Zelda’s attention.

“On Blossom Street. You aren’t going to believe this, but he actually lives in my building.”

“Dr. Jeffries? Get out of here!”

Zelda was definitely interested now. “Wait—I heard he moved to Seattle just before his book was published.” She took a deep breath. “Wow! You really saw him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, my goodness, did you talk to him? Is he as hand-some in person as he is in his photo?”

Feeling about him the way she did, K.O. had to consider the question for a moment. “He’s fairly easy on the eyes.” That was an understatement but looks weren’t everything. To her mind, he seemed stiff and unapproachable. Distant, even.

“Did you tell him that Zach and I both read his book and what a difference it’s made in our lives?” “No, but…”

“K.O., could you…Would it be too much to get his autograph? Could you bring it on the fifteenth?”

K.O. had agreed to spend the night with the twins while Zelda and Zach attended his company’s Christmas party. Her sister and brother-in-law had made arrangements to stay at a hotel downtown, just the two of them.

“All the mothers at the preschool would die to have Dr. Jeffries’s autograph.”

“I haven’t met him,” K.O. protested. It wasn’t like she had any desire to form a fan club for him, either.

“But you just said he lives in your building.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“It looks like him. Anyway, LaVonne said it was.”

Zelda gave a small shout of excitement. “If LaVonne says it’s him, then it must be. How could you live in the same building as Dr. Jeffries and not know it?” her sister cried as though K.O. had somehow avoided this critical knowledge on purpose. “This is truly amazing. I’ve got to have his autograph.”

“I’ll…see what I can do,” K.O. promised. This was not good. She’d hoped to find common ground with her sister, not become a…a go-between so Zelda could get her hero’s autograph. Some hero! K.O.’s views on just about everything having to do with parenting were diametrically opposed to those purveyed by Dr. Wynn Jeffries. She’d feel like a fraud if she asked for his autograph.

“One more thing,” Zelda said when her excitement had died down. “I know we don’t agree on child-rearing techniques.”

“That’s true, but I understand these are your daughters.” She took a deep breath. “How you raise them isn’t really any of my business.”

“Exactly,” Zelda said emphatically. “Therefore, Zach and I want you to know we’ve decided to downplay Christmas this year.”

“Downplay Christmas,” K.O. repeated, not sure what that meant.

“We aren’t putting up a tree.”

“No Christmas tree!” K.O. sputtered, doing a poor job of hiding her disapproval. She couldn’t imagine celebrating the holiday without decorating a tree. Her poor nieces would be deprived of a very important tradition.

“I might allow a small potted one for the kitchen table.” Zelda seemed a bit doubtful herself. She should be doubtful, since a Christmas tree had always been part of their own family celebration. The fact that their parents had moved to Arizona was difficult enough. This year they’d decided to take a cruise in the South Pacific over Christmas and New Year’s. While K.O. was happy to see her mother and father enjoying their retirement, she missed them enormously.

“Is this another of Dr. Jeffries’s ideas?” K.O. had read enough of his book—and heard more than enough about his theories—to suspect it was. Still, she could hardly fathom that even Wynn Jeffries would go this far. Outlaw Christmas? The man was a menace!

“Dr. Jeffries believes that misleading children about Santa does them lasting psychological damage.”

“The girls can’t have Santa, either?” This was cruel and unusual punishment. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’re doing away with the tooth fairy, too.”

“Why, yes, of course. It’s the same principle.”

K.O. knew better than to argue with her sister. “Getting back to Christmas…” she began.