All This Time

CHRISTMAS BONUS #1

DAY ONE of a very van der Waals Christmas

I still feel butterflies when I'm in close proximity to Wolfram van der Waals but this time, they're the sustainable kinds of butterflies. They don't flap their flimsy wings as much and they may not soar as high, but they're going to live for more than a day.

Some loves crash and burn, like Brett and Dash's attempt at dating - he couldn't live with her jealousy, she couldn't deal with the fact his acting career meant he had to kiss beautiful women. Some loves stay on a low simmer, flames licking and quivering at just the right moments, but not hot enough to incinerate the lovers to a crisp. My feelings for Wolf, I decide right then and there, will not consume and burn us up until there is nothing left.

The taxi that is taking me to Oudewater skids on a patch of ice. The car swerves and I clutch the window's armrest until the driver regains control of the vehicle. He turns in his seat. All I can see are thick, bushy eyebrows and a long nose poking out from under a cap pulled down so low over his forehead that I'm surprised he can even see a thing.

Satisfied I'm not about to go into hysterics he turns back around and jabs his finger at the radio. Choral music starts to play, taking me back to a time six years ago when I first came to the village. The town looks the same, which is comforting and surreal at the same time. I remember the toddler I'd waved at once, to Wolf's amazement, and wonder where that child is now - one of the kids in the park, bundled up in a puffy winter jacket? I gaze at the group of children we pass, but at this distance, one is pretty much indistinguishable from the other.

The driver brings me to the long driveway of the ancestral van der Waals family home and his surprise is emitted in the form of a low whistle. I have to blink away my surprise when I see the frost-tipped lawn ornaments. Lining both sides of the driveway are green gift boxes, wire and plastic sheer enough to reveal the twinkling lights within. They're big enough for someone to sit on and wrapped with an enormous red velvet bow.

The entrance to the house is surrounded by a patch of striped candy canes about two feet tall. Blocking one of the garages is a sleigh made of rose gold metal, white and gold glitter, and a garland of greenery draped loosely over it. It's not decorative and a pleasant shiver goes through me as I wonder whether Wolf set it up for us to cuddle in until our noses turned red as Rudolph's.

The moment the taxi pulls to a stop and I open the door, a familiar face emerges from the stately house, a warm smile of welcome on his face. "Humphries," I call out, grinning from ear to ear. "It's so nice to see you again!"

"Same to you, Miss Wright," he says, looking a little older and whiter than I remember him, but nonetheless in good spirits and health. His mustache is curled up at the ends in a Frenchified way, whiter than paint and thin like a rat's tail.

"Am I the first one here?" I ask as I pay the taxi driver. With a mumble of thanks, he scurries back into the warmth of the taxi, leaving me standing on the driveway with my Longchamp's tote on my arm and my Samsonite suitcase at my feet.

"Just you and Mr. Wolf." The butler smiles like he knows a secret.

Graeme, who threw herself from the role of stay-at-home girlfriend to socialite wife, had been hoping to play hostess this Christmas in New York, but with Levi reluctant to bring his girlfriend around, saying it was "too soon", and with my plans with Wolf to go back to the Netherlands, her hopes were dashed when, for one reason or another, all of us begged a rain check.

Unwilling to be left out, she declared she and Xander would join us on Christmas Eve - and so, of course, Wolf and I planned our rendezvous for the week before, guaranteeing us some alone time before our family descended on us.