West adjusted his purple paper crown and took a seat next to Mrs. T at one of the community hall’s tables. Above them twinkled strands of fairy lights and glittery fake icicles that he and the guys had spent hours stringing up. In a well-oiled team, West and his brother, along with Kip and a few other able-bodied locals, had transformed the hall into a winter wonderland, while the women had set out tables and beautified them with tea light candles and other glittery, baubly stuff.

“You look ridiculous, Ryan.” Mrs. T thumped one of her canes for emphasis.

He draped an arm casually on the back of her chair and angled his chin. “You’re jealous because I got the purple party crown and you’re stuck with a yellow one. It makes you look jaundiced.”

“Rude boy.” She sniffed. “Where are your manners?”

“You know you love me.” He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.

“You always were my favorite.” Mrs. T set down her cane and patted his knee, leaving her hand there and slanting him a side-eye to see if he’d react.

West laid his palm over her wrinkled hand, reassured by her warm skin and the strength that was still contained in her fingers. Though she could be a pain in the ass at times, she was as much a part of the history of Oban as Due South was. Five years ago you could’ve stuck splinters under his fingernails and he still wouldn’t have admitted it, but now…

“And you were always mine,” he said. “Where would we all be without you, Betsy?”

Her cheeks pinkened and she waved a bejeweled hand at him. “Get away with you.”

“It’s true.” West shifted in his chair so he could see the table next to them where Holly and Ford sat with paper masks over their faces. Ford gently shoulder bumped Holly and said something that made her laugh. “Take Ford and Holly; a masterpiece in manipulation.”

“Well, that’s true,” she said, “though really I was just pointing out the obvious; that they’d always been right for each other.”

“And opposite them, Joe and MacKenna.”

Mrs. T pursed her lips and nodded. “Quite inspired I was with those two, I’ll admit. You know, they asked me to read a poem at their wedding in February.”

“Really? You’re not going to recite that dirty limerick I heard you quoting after you’d had one too many gins at the pub a few weeks back, are you?”

“I might.” She grinned her sharklike grin. “People forgive an awful lot when they think you’re a nutty old bat.”

“Joe’ll have Noah arrest you.”

“Noah’s welcome to arrest me anytime. He’s on my hit list, in case you haven’t guessed.”

West chuckled. “Good luck with that one. The man’s an impenetrable stronghold.”

“Bollocks.” Mrs. T folded her arms and tilted her chin toward the kitchen. “That’s what your little brother thought when he came back, but we soon showed him, didn’t we?”

Through the servery area Del and Shaye were arguing over a tray of something—his brother skating on thin ice by smiling his cocky smile at his wife who resorted to poking him in the chest with a finger to make a point.

“Shaye showed him,” he said.

“She did, and she’s still showing him by the look of it.”

West leaned back on his chair and lifted his chin as a gesture to the table behind them where Ben, Kezia, and the girls sat. “And what about Ben, speaking of favorites? You created your infamous bachelor auction to save his ass.”

“Wasn’t that fun?” Mrs. T rubbed her hands. “I’m thinking of organizing another one sometime soon.”

He snorted. “Bachelors are a dying breed in Oban, thanks to you.”

“Hmmm. That’s true. And since we lost our biggest drawcard to your sister…”

“Hey—I thought I was your biggest drawcard, not Kip.” He shot a glance across the room to where his bartender and friend was having an intense discussion with Ford. Ford and Holly had been assigned to party DJs to keep their germ-ridden selves away from the general population.

“You keep thinking that, dearie.” Mrs. T grinned in the direction of Carly, who had turned in her chair to watch Kip with a dreamy smile on her face. “Another one of my successes.”

“Who, Carly and Kip?”

“I rented her my little studio apartment, remember? And who was it that let Kip into that apartment to put up Christmas decorations while she was out?”

West grinned. “So he could grovel like a mad bastard for her forgiveness?”

Mrs. T narrowed her eyes at him. “Seem to recall you doing a bit of groveling for forgiveness yourself, young man.”

“Won’t be the last time,” he said.

“I expect not.” Her frown transformed into a sweet smile, completely unlike her usual toothy grin. “But making up with the person you love after a quarrel can lead to some spectacular sex.”

Sweet smile, his ass.

West burst out laughing. When he finally got a hold of himself, his gut aching, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. T. Don’t ever change.”