| (Abigale Beckenskill is being sent to spend
Christmas with her great aunts, while her mother is in
the hospital) "The policeman walked me and my suitcase up to a large door. He twisted a handle in the middle of the door and a noise came out that sounded like the bell I used to have on my tricycle, except not as loud. "Hell, they won't hear that," he muttered, and began banging on the door. In a few minutes, the door swung open to reveal a short, stocky woman in a pink chenille housecoat. Her cheeks were like two little red apples, and her eyes were the color of violets. Little wisps of white hair stuck out from beneath a blue toboggan cap, and she was puffing on one of those long, droopy pipes like you see in pictures of Sherlock Holmes. "Howdy, Ms. Lottie," the policeman said. "You expecting company?" "Not that I know of," she said. "Poke—you expecting company?" she called back over her shoulder. "Like who?" said a voice from inside. "Me," I said, stepping in front of the policeman. "Abigail Dempsey Beckenskill. My daddy is Raymond Earl Beckenskill and my mama is Linda Faye Dempsey Beckenskill and my Uncle Andrew called you last night. You were real excited I was coming." The lady, who must have been my great aunt Lottie, stared at me for a long minute and I thought she was going to say, never heard of such people, now get off my porch, but then she took her pipe out of her mouth. "Who wrote the Uncle Remus stories?" she asked. "Joel Chandler Harris." "What's the next line after "Come, sinners to the gospel feast"? "Let every soul be Jesus' guest," I said. " It's a hymn by Charles Wesley." "She's ours," she said to the policeman. "What are you standing out there for, Miss Abigail Dempsey Beckenskill?" The policeman handed me my suitcase, and Aunt Lottie pushed the screen door open. "Thank you for the ride," I said to the policeman. "No trouble," he said. "Are you coming in?" Aunt Lottie said. "Yes, m'am," I said, stepping inside. "What’s the fare?" Aunt Lottie said. "No fare, Miss Lottie," said the policeman. "You’ll hardly stay in business that way," Aunt Lottie said, and closed the door. From this moment on, Abigale is caught up in the strange world of her eccentric aunts and joins them in planning for their annual Christmas Extravaganza. As Christmas draws nearer, and Abigale listens to the aunts' stories of their past Christmases, she decides she is either going to have her best Christmas ever--or her worst!
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