Christmas was a rather dreary time of year, at least it always was for the Durrem family. While the Durrem parents and children threw on smiles, baked sweets, and exchanged presents, each and every moment was weighed down by a single, disturbing truth: there was one family member missing.

That poor, young sister spent Christmas six feet under, freezing under layers of snow and ice. The mere act of being together haunted their souls so much that they silently resolved to spend as little time as possible. For six years, they perfected a routine of arriving exactly one day before Christmas Eve, avoiding each other at all times (except meals and Christmas morning, when presents were opened), and hastily leaving on the morning of December twenty-six. It really was a sight to see.

However, their pattern was broken in the seventh year after the sister's death, for the eldest sister, Helen, invited her siblings to a Christmas Tea Party a week before the supposedly "joyous holiday." Finding no excuse to possibly give to the bossiest sister of the bunch, Eleanor, Penelope, Danielle (who insisted on being called Danny), and Noelle reluctantly agreed to accept the invitation.

Helen Collins, the first and only sister to be married, prepared all of her sisters' favorite treats and teas. She had her maid, Ida, clean the parlor extra well and set the table with the finest china. And she wore her finest clothes―a long, red dress with a lace collar. A red-feather hat was meticulously placed over her brown hair, tied in an updo. With ten minutes to spare, Helen was ready for her guests to arrive.

It was five minutes till three in the afternoon when a gentle knocking sounded on the door. It was barely audible, in fact, if Helen hadn't been paying attention, she might have mistaken it for a creature scurrying outside. But Helen had been paying attention, so she knew who it was immediately. For one thing, she could only think of one sister who would actually arrive early to a social gathering―other than herself, of course. For another, only one sister would exude a quiet manner in knocking on a door.

"Ida! Someone is at the door," Helen called.

Ida's footsteps pounded on the wood floor. Hinges creaked, and Helen heard someone say a quiet thank you.

To no surprise, Eleanor, the second oldest sister, entered the parlor. She wore her chocolate brown hair in a tight bun, so tight that it actually helped to iron some of the wrinkles on her face. Her hands were clasped in front of her, so tight that the peachy skin around her fingers was turning white, only releasing her grasp to push her rounded glasses up.

It was a wonder that she had the confidence to become a teacher. Eleanor may dress the part, donning a beige suit jacket and floor-length skirt, but she only spoke when absolutely necessary, as if there were a clock subtracting minutes from her lifetime after every word she spoke. Perhaps she was more animated while discussing Hamlet.

"Hello, Eleanor," Helen greeted.

"Hello." The two sisters stared at each other for a moment. Helen, normally outspoken, grasped for something to say to twenty-nine year old Eleanor. It was probably just the awkwardness that infected the Durrem family during this season.

"Why don't you sit down?" Helen suggested at last.

Eleanor gave a weak smile and looked at the wooden table to select her seat. It was rectangular and covered in a lace cloth. Helen stood at the head of the table on the far side of the room, silently claiming her spot. Eleanor slipped into the seat to the left of Eleanor's.

A loud banging erupted outside the home, like someone was attempting to break the door down. Helen sighed. It was probably Danny, the most boisterous and unlady-like girl Helen had ever met. She silently determined that she would sooner gather the funds to send her children to an elite girls school than allow them to act in such an unrefined manner. Danny always seemed to be riding horses or playing sports, or at a bare minimum, running.

Helen nearly fainted in horror when twenty-year-old Danny strolled into the room. Peeking out from underneath her navy-blue skirt―the same color as the girl's eyes―were a pair of pantaloons.

Helen thought they looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Danny!" she gasped. "What are you wearing?"

"Pantaloons, of course," Danny replied, plopping down in the seat next to Eleanor.

"Have you no shame?" Helen declared.

"No," Danny said, reaching for one of the apples laying in a basket in the center of the table. She paused, realizing her mistake. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with wearing pantaloons."

"Nothing wrong? Nothing wrong! What would Mother and Father say?"

"'It's fine if I wear them just so long as I wear them under a dress,'" Danny quoted with a smirk. "That's exactly what they say. I should know, I live with them."

"Eleanor, tell her right now that pantaloons would not be allowed at a women's college."

Sweet Eleanor, who avoided arguments more than public speaking, simply pushed her glasses up (which always seemed to be slipping from her nose) and stared at the poinsettias sitting on the fireplace across from her.

"No self-respecting female should stoop to such low levels," Helen insisted when it became clear that Eleanor was not going to assist in her argument.

"They're comfortable and they enable me to run and climb trees."

"Run and climb trees, my foot! Isn't that how you disfigured your nose?"

As a child, Danny had fallen out of a tree and broken her nose, resulting in a slight bend in its bridge.

"Well, at least I wasn't born with my crooked nose, unlike some people," Danny retorted.

Helen gasped. The eldest sister also had an unfortunate facial mishap, only hers had accompanied her since birth. Everyone else in the family, except Danny of course, had small, straight noses. Helen alone had a roman nose. She had gone through various phases throughout her life, from denying its existence, to self-pity, to complete and utter despair. Now, as a thirty-three-year-old, Helen had come to accept her nose, especially since she had managed to meet a man who put up with it. But it was almost as taboo of a family subject as their deceased sibling.

Danny stuck her tongue out. Helen would have reprimanded the girl for it, but she was interrupted by a sing-song voice announcing:

"I'm here."

Helen whipped around to see the third eldest sister, Penelope.

Ah, Penelope, the sister of the theatre. Today, she looked rather dramatic in a flowing, green gown and a wide-brimmed, feathered hat. A brown fur coat wrapped around her shoulders, stretching all the way to her ankles.

"Hello, dear sisters," she said, flashing her straight, pure-white teeth.

"Hello," Helen said.

Ida entered the room, though Helen didn't notice at first since her simple appearance was overshadowed by Penelope. She was almost washed out in her all white dress and apron, very much like a sheep and blending in with the sunlight streaming in through the window. Even her hair was concealed under a white kerchief, which was pulled slightly forward, casting shadows on her face. Atop her small nose rested a pair of spectacles, which further dulled her light blue eyes.

"May I take your coats?" the maid offered.

"Certainly," Penelope said. Ida reached up and helped Penelope take off her brown coat. The other sisters removed their coats as well and piled them into Ida's arms.

"It's so good to see you all," Penelope said as she made her way to the seat opposite Eleanor.

"You as well," Helen said. She glanced at the old, grandfather clock sitting over the mantle. It was ten minutes past three, and the youngest sister had not arrived. "Danny, why didn't you and Noelle arrive together?"

"I was in town running an errand for Mother this morning," Danny said. "Noelle had to stay home and do chores."

Before Helen could make any comments about the youngest girl's tardiness, in came Noelle, the final guest.

"Hello!" she chirped. She smoothed her pink skirt, which had a white top tucked into it.

"You're late," Helen said.

"Sorry, mother had a few chores for me to finish. But she told me to bring this jar of raspberry preserves as an apology."

Helen couldn't help but smile at the seventeen-year-old, staring up with her sea-blue eyes. She handed Helen the jar of preserves.

"We'll have it with our tea," Helen said, placing it on the table. "Tell mother thank you for me."

"Sure." Noelle skipped over to the final seat at the table, next to Penelope, her curly brown hair bouncing in a ponytail.

Helen took her own seat at the head of the table. A smile spread across her face―a contented smile, like everything was made right in the world.

"Ah, here we all are," Helen began. "Reunited at last after all these years. And, it's not even Christmas Eve yet."

A few nervous chuckles rose from the table. Her sisters squirmed in their seats.

"There's still one of us missing, Helen," Danny whispered.

Though she tried to fight it, Noelle's eyes darted to her left, where there was an empty space at the table. Helen had specifically removed the sixth chair from the table in hopes of removing any distractions. But there was an undeniable, empty place that should have been filled.

Helen decided it was time to begin the tea party. Perhaps it could provide some form of distraction.

"Ida, please bring out the tea and cookies," she called, as if loud speaking could drown the sadness in the room.

"Yes ma'am."

A grand, silver teapot was placed in the center of the table. Each place at the table had already been set with the finest china Helen could afford. The cups and plates matched with painted, red roses. Helen hoped it would brighten the Christmastime gloom.

Carefully, Helen poured each sister a cup of tea while Ida returned with two plates―one with cookies, the other with biscuits. Naturally Danny, who had no self-control when it came to such matters, immediately snatched up three gingersnaps and devoured them in the blink of an eye.

"Really Danny, you shouldn't eat so quickly. It isn't good for your figure." The way that Penelope spoke to her sister was almost like she was accepting a compliment from a suitor she wasn't really interested in.

"I ran all the way here from town," Danny said, shrugging off her sister. "I'm starved."

"You 'are starving,'" Helen corrected, casting a look at Eleanor in hopes of getting her to jump in. Eleanor simply sipped her tea and nibbled on the edge of a biscuit.

"That's what I said," Danny replied with her mouth full of food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Penelope said. A brilliant smile stretched across her lips, lighting up her entire face and making it seem like her younger sister had just told a joke.

Danny rolled her eyes and reached across the table for the sugar bowl.

"Oh, Danny, is it too hard for you to ask?" Helen said. "I'm sure Noelle would have handed it to you."

Noelle nodded emphatically. Danny just rolled her eyes and began transferring what seemed to be the entire sugar bowl into her small cup of tea. Four, five, six, seven spoonfuls were dumped into her cup!

"Danny! That is no good for your health!" Helen chided.

"If you had any regard for your figure, I'm sure you'd be more careful," Penelope remarked, sipping her tea loudly (even though slurping would not have been considered the best of manners at this type of tea party). As it turns out, even though Danny ate more food than all of her sisters combined, she was skinnier than a stick.

"Since when did you care about people besides yourself?" Danny quipped.

Penelope's hand flew to her chest. "I love my sisters! I'm always looking out for them."

Eleanor nearly spit her tea out of her mouth at that, but quickly regained her composure and pressed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.

Danny rolled her eyes. "I had a feeling you were going to pick at me to death. Honestly, I don't know why I even agreed to come!"

That shut everyone up, even Penelope.

Especially Penelope.

"Enough of this dreariness," Helen quickly jumped in to rescue the conversation. "So, Penelope, how is the theatre?"

"Oh, it's marvelous!" Penelope gushed. "I can't believe that I'm actually going to be in a moving picture!"

"That's great!" Noelle said, bouncing a little in her chair.

"Yes, I'm rather excited myself. How are you doing, Helen? You've been married for almost a year now."

"Yes," Helen said.

Her normal, over-protective mother demeanor shifted for a moment as she thought of Jim Collins, her husband. He was truly a wonderful specimen, a scientist working at a local institute. He was in a lower level position, which meant that he didn't have a high payroll, nor was he at home most of the time. But gosh, Helen loved him.

"I can't wait till I get married," Noelle said. Helen broke from her dream world and smiled down at her young sister.

"You're not even eighteen," Helen chuckled.

"I'm seventeen," Noelle defended. "I know a girl who is engaged to be married as soon as she finishes school this year."

"I think there are higher marriage priorities in this family," Penelope cut in. She looked slyly at Eleanor. "Right?"

Eleanor shifted in her seat as four pairs of eyes stared at her. She took a bite of her biscuit, like her sisters would leave her alone if she had food in her mouth. Unfortunately, Eleanor was not that lucky when it came to the subject of marriage.

Sensing Eleanor's discomfort, but being just as nosy as Eleanor, Helen cleared her throat and cautiously said, "So, Eleanor, have you met many eligible men?"

Eleanor looked into her sister's deep blue eyes, one of the rare moments that she turned her gaze from inanimate objects. "No."

"Well why not?" Noelle squeaked. "You're almost thirty!"

Helen shot the youngster a glare of warning.

"It's not like there are herds of men roaming a women's college," Eleanor stated quietly.

"Well they should be," Penelope declared. "Why pass up such a perfect opportunity?"

"They aren't allowed."

"Oh, how dreadful! Remind me to never go anywhere near there!" Penelope exclaimed.

"I don't see why you're so boy crazy," Danny muttered.

"You're such a child, Danny," Penelope fired back.

Danny rolled her eyes.

"Enough, both of you," Helen said. "No more arguing. This was supposed to be a nice family get together, not an 'attack the sister' competition."

"I agree," Penelope said smugly. Helen looked at her sternly.

"Me too!" Noelle chimed in.

Helen turned to Danny. For a moment, Danny simply crossed her arms and refused to face her sister. But after a moment of tense silence, she conceded.

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth.

"Good," Helen said. "Now, who would like more tea?"

"Oh! I would!" Noelle said.

"Me too," Danny agreed.

"Oh, do you mind if I use the facilities, Helen?" Penelope asked.

"Go right ahead," Helen said. "It's right down the hall to your left."

Penelope stood and glided from the room right as Ida reentered the parlor with a second plate of cookies.

"So, Danny, how have you been?" Helen enquired.

Danny paused, unsure if it was true that someone was asking about her life. "Uh, it's been fine. Not the best, mind you. Mother wants me to take lessons about cleaning the house and Father is trying to marry me off."

"Mother's planning to send me to a women's college next year," Noelle blurted out.

Danny grinned. "Yeah, I'm sure you'll enjoy that. You're like Eleanor, a poetry and book fanatic."

"It's all so just so...beautiful and wonderful. It speaks to the interiors of my soul."

Helen had to restrain herself from chuckling as her sister stared off into space, her hands lightly clasped in front of her chest.

The moment was quickly ruined.

Something thudded on the bathroom floor.

Helen bolted up from her seat.

"Ida! Come with me!" she commanded, and she raced to the restroom, followed by Ida and her three sisters.

Helen found Penelope sprawled on the tile floor, passed out. Helen reached for her wrist. Penelope's pulse was weak, but her sister was still alive.

"Ida, loosen her pearl choker," Helen told her. Slowly, the maid complied.

"Eleanor, call the doctor. Danny, Noelle, help me get her into a bed." Eleanor hurried to find the phone. Noelle's sobs cut through the air. Clearly, she was in no condition to be assisting with such matters.

"Is s-she g-going to d-die?" Noelle whimpered.

"No," Danny shushed. She leapt to Helen's aid, and together, the sisters lifted Penelope from the floor and transported her to a bed in a guest room.

It was too good to be true that the sisters could enjoy a nice tea party together, especially during such a bleak season of the year.