Disclaimer: I don' own the characters; they belong to Disney and PL Travers.

Author's Note: Must be the season and the fact that we finally got some snow that might stick around where I live, but I was in the mood for something fluffy and Christmas-y :).

CHAPTER ONE:

Michael Banks was half asleep.

Snow had been falling steadily outside Fidelity Fiduciary Bank since he'd arrived at 8:00 that morning, carpeting London in a silent blanket of snow. From his desk, all he could see was the accumulation on the windowsill and the flakes falling in the air, swirled around by a light east wind. His fireplace crackled and popped. And with it being the day before Christmas, absolutely no one needed any banking services.

And so Michael was resting his head on his hand, propped on his elbow on his desk, waiting for 4:00 so he could leave and head home.

"Michael?"

Michael was somewhere on Cherry Tree Lane, whistling a Christmas carol as he and Kate put up the garland on the mantle of their fireplace. Kate was rolling her eyes at how out of tune he was, and he winked at her as he whistled, "Oh, Christmas Tree" all the louder.

"Mr. Banks?"

Michael blinked and his chin slipped out of his hand. His head bobbed and he looked in the doorway. "I-what?" He ran a hand over his face. "I'm so sorry, I-"

His visitor came into focus, and Michael paused. Standing just inside his doorway was a redheaded woman in an ankle-length, bright green coat. A beret matching her coat topped her hair. Her face was flushed, though from the weather or embarrassment, Michael couldn't guess. "I-I'm sorry, your secretary, she-" the woman began, gesturing with her gloves back out to the entry. "She, that is, she said I could just go in. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Michael held up a hand. "It's fine," he said. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I'm afraid falling asleep at my desk is a bit unprofessional."

The woman smiled. She had a beautiful smile, Michael noted. "Well, what with the weather and all, and the holiday, I'd say it's a forgivable offense. You probably have family to get home to, and here I'm keeping you."

"I don't mind," Michael said, and meant it. He stood up, came around his desk, and pulled a chair out for her. She sat down, tugging off her beret and setting it primly on her lap. "Now. How can I help you, Miss-"

"Flannery. Elizabeth Flannery," the redhead introduced herself. "I would like to close an account."

Michael nodded. "I can ask Miss Farthing to pull the record," he said. "What is the name on the account?" he asked her.

Her voice was quiet when she answered, "Alexander Flannery." At Michael's raised eyebrow, she looked up from her lap, and Michael saw tears in her eyes. "My husband," she added.

The snowball hit John Banks square between the shoulders, and he dove behind a bush, laughing. "Let's see you get me now!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"All right!" a small voice said gleefully, as a second snowball smacked John in the chest. John gasped at the hit as his little brother Georgie scrambled backwards from underneath the bush, giggling as he disappeared back out into the park. John followed, trying to find his brother while at the same time-

"Gotcha!"

John felt two big arms wrap around him, holding him in place with a bear hug. He laughed, trying to wiggle free. His hat fell to the snow as his brother and his twin sister came running at him from across the lawn, pelting him with snowballs. "Agh! Annabel, Georgie! Knock it off! Jack, lemme go!"

Grinning, Jack Moreno let John go and he tore off after his siblings, grabbing Annabel by the arm and pulling her down into the snow. His sister screeched, but a moment later, she was trying to crush snow in his hair. Georgie joined in soon after, pig piling on top of his brother and sister, making them both yelp with surprise and burst into laughter.

The lamplighter watched the scene with a mix of fondness and parental supervision. He felt a hand slide through his arm and a head lean on his arm. "We really shouldn't encourage the rough housing," Jane Banks told her significant other as she watched her niece and nephews in the snow. The two of them were quiet for a moment, all smiles, watching the children romp about in the snow. The park was beautiful, snow still falling, the gazebo just behind them twisted with red ribbon and several big bows, giving it a candy-caned appearance.

"It's nothin' meant as meanness," Jack replied, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her into an embrace.

"I suppose," Jane said, gently tugging her arm free from Jack's, bending down as if to tie her shoe. "Besides…" She stood up and mushed a handful of snow in his face, laughing as he sputtered in protest. "It really is a lot of fun."

Jack wiped the snow from his eyes and glanced at her. "Settin' a good example for the children, eh?"

She batted her eyelashes at him. "That's what their father is for."

Her boyfriend grinned as Jane pulled her sleeve back to look at her watch. "Speaking of their father," she said. "Annabel! John! Georgie! Time to head in, your father will be home soon!" She spotted the children throwing snow at each other over by the gazebo and yelled once more, finally receiving a response of "Awww….Aunt Ja-anne…." At least they'd heard her that time.

"I best be movin' on then too," Jack told her, buttoning the top button on his jacket. "Lamps won't light themselves."

"You'll be by tomorrow, right?" Jane asked him. "I mean, after you put the lamps out. You're coming to spend Christmas Day with us?"

He nodded. "Promised I would," he reminded her. He winked. "And I'm not one to turn down a free meal 'specially if Ellen's cooking."

Jane smacked him in the arm with a laugh. "Oh is that how it is, then?" she laughed. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "Be safe tonight," she told him, turning up his lapels.

A snowball pelted her in the back and she heard giggling children run past the two of them, heading for the park's exit. Jane gasped as Jack started laughing at her, running to follow the children out of the park to where his bicycle was propped against the stairs of 17 Cherry Tree Lane. Jane shook her head, tagging along after them.

It didn't matter how old Jane was…there was just something about 17 Cherry Tree Lane at Christmas.

It started outside on the street. As she exited the park, her eyes were met with the twinkling gas lamps that followed the curved cobblestone street. She could hear wooden bicycle wheels on the road, and a faint whistling of Christmas carols.

Jack was at work. She was also fairly certain that the bright red bows on all the lampposts were her boyfriend's idea, and not something the city had decreed.

She heard Ellen scolding her niece and nephews as they giggled and fought their way through the front door, going on about how wet they were and how they'd catch themselves a death of cold. Their housekeeper paused, waiting for Jane, but Jane waved her inside, content to spend a few more moments outside. Candles were lit in the street-facing windows up and down the lane. The snow had melted from the streets because of commuters, but the sidewalks and yards, windowsills and roofs were still coated with a layer of snow, giving the impression like frosting on a gingerbread house.

Admiral Boom's first mate, Mr. Binnacle, had helped Michael wrap evergreen garland around the two big pillars outside the front door and Michael had returned the favor at the Admiral's. Then, they'd picked up Henry, the milkman, and gone around to Miss Lark's and several of the other neighbors, helping to put up wreaths on doors and garlands around columns. Michael's off-key caroling could be heard as far down as Number 19, but it blended nicely with Mr. Binnacle's gravelly voice and Henry's tenor.

Jane took a moment to enjoy the flickering candlelight and lamp light, then jogged across the street and headed indoors. She heard a door slam in back-Michael was home. Jane raced up the stairs and into his bedroom, grabbing the change of clothes she'd stashed before their outdoor adventure and locking the bathroom door, anxious to beat him into the bath.

Ellen's eyes widened as Michael stepped out of the back doorway and a redheaded woman cautiously slid by him into the kitchen. Michael let himself in behind her and closed the door. "Ah, Ellen. Good evening. How was the afternoon?"

"The usual," the housekeeper replied. She looked at him pointedly. "And who might this be?" she asked. Her tone made it clear Michael wasn't going to weasel out of giving an explanation for her.

Michael hung up his hat in the back. "Ah, right. Ellen, this is Ms. Elizabeth Flannery," he explained. "Elizabeth, this is our housekeeper, Ellen."

Elizabeth nodded politely. "How do you do," she said, letting Michael take her coat. She wrapped her arms around her waist shyly. "I, um, hope you don't mind another mouth to feed for supper, but Michael was very insistent."

Michael? Ellen raised an eyebrow. Who was this woman that was already on a first-name basis with Mr. Banks, she wondered.

"Ellen always makes more than necessary," Michael said, rubbing his hands together. "I think she thinks more people live here sometimes than actually do!"

"You've forgotten the three growin' children that live here?" Ellen countered. She looked him up and down. "Not t' mention the master of the house, 'is sister, and the occasional lamplighter or four that somehow magically arrive 'round supper time every night?"

"Oh, come now, Ellen, you know you love it," Jane's voice piped up from the dining room. She came through the door into the kitchen and stopped, just noticing they had a visitor. "Oh. Hello." She took stock of the redheaded woman, wearing a simple checked dress with a white collar and cuffs. "Michael, who's this?" Jane turned to her brother. Michael was alternating between looking panicked and looking at Elizabeth. A friend, huh? Interesting… "Michael," Jane said, a little louder, stepping on his foot.

He blinked, and looked at his sister. "I..sorry, what?"

"He does that," Elizabeth put in, and Jane grinned. The other woman offered her half a smile back.

Well, if Michael wasn't going to be a proper host..."How do you know my oh-so-eloquent little brother?" Jane asked her, gesturing to the dining room, leaving a still-staring Michael behind.

Ellen hit him with a wooden spoon. "Excuse me, sir, if you're just goin' to stand there, at least make yourself useful," she told her employer.