"I don't believe this!" Chris Anderson exclaimed as she and her three younger sisters looked out the front window of their California mountain home.
It was snowing so hard, they could barely see the street outside.
"This isn't fair!" Replied Chris' 14 year old sister Arlene. "How can it snow now?"
"Well, we are in the mountains." Chris said, "But it usually doesn't snow at this time of year."
"I'll bet it's nice and sunny at our other house in Palm Springs." Another sister, Marcia, who was 10, said sullenly. "Why did Dad want to meet the Monkees here anyway?"
"To get away from the Hollywood scene, so everybody can relax while they work out a new record deal." Chris said.
The youngest of the sisters, seven year old Stephanie, looked like she was ready to cry.
"I hope Mommy and Daddy and the Monkees are OK." She said.
The Anderson sisters' Mom and Dad, a record exec, had gone back to LA to visit a sick friend, and were supposed to be home before the Monkees arrived. Now, with the unexpected snowstorm blowing outside, it looked like everyone was going to be delayed.
"They'll be fine, Steph." Chris said patting her little sis on the head, "They just have to drive slowly to be safe."
Mike Nesmith grumbled as he drove his Buick through the snow. He didn't really want to meet with yet another suit, but he knew Gerry Anderson had connections that could help keep the Monkees on top.
Now, he began to regret agreeing to meet up in the mountains. He never liked driving in what little snow he saw in Texas, and this snowstorm made him realize why. His car slid more times than he'd liked, but finally he got onto the correct road and drove over to Anderson's house. Good thing he had asked for explicit instructions on how to get here, otherwise he'd have been lost for sure by now.
After several long minutes, the house in question appeared and Mike pulled into the wide driveway.
"Someone's here!" Arlene said excitedly.
"We can see that." Chris replied, "Now remember girls, even though it's one of the Monkees, he's still a guest, so don't be hanging onto him."
"You sound like Mom!" Marcia said.
"And you're only 20." Stephanie put in.
"I know, but while Mom and Dad are gone, I have to be the Mom." Chris replied, "Now behave yourselves."
"OK." Arlene, Marcia and Stephanie said.
The four girls went down to greet their guest.
"Who do you think it'll be?" Marcia asked the others.
"Micky!" Stephanie said instantly.
The other three laughed. Stephanie had made it no secret she loved Micky and that crazy, curly hair of his.
Upon reaching the door, Chris opened it before Mike could knock.
"Hi! C'mon in!" Chris said to Mike.
"Thank you, Ma'am." Mike replied walking inside. Mike's sour mood about the snow evaporated when he saw the sweet smiling faces of Arlene, Marcia and Stephanie.
"Hi Mike!" The three girls said together.
"How did you know my name?" Mike teased as he unbuttoned his jacket.
"From the TV." Stephanie replied.
Chris smiled as she took Mike's jacket and hung it on a rack near the door.
"Well, you have the advantage of me." Mike replied, "What are your names?
Arlene, Marcia and Stephanie told him. Mike shook each of their hands. Arlene held Mike's hand just a little longer than necessary, since Mike was her fave Monkee.
"And I'm Chris." She said, shaking Mike's hand. "Pleased to meet you."
"I'm pleased to meet you ladies too." Mike said, then looked around, "Is your Dad here?"
"No." Arlene replied, "Our Mom and Dad went to LA this morning, but should've been back by now."
"Must be that storm blowin' out there." Mike said, shaking his head. "Its bad out. I would've gone back home, but I was already almost here when the storm hit."
"We're glad you made it here safe. Let's go into the den." Chris said to Mike.
The five of them walked into the den. Arlene had recently put some wood on the fire, so the room was quite warm.
"AH, warmth!" Mike smiled and sat down on the couch. Arlene sat down next to him.
"Would you like something to drink?" Chris asked Mike.
"Some coffee would be great." Mike replied.
"Coming up." Chris said, and then walked away.