The crowd of friends behind Noelle reached out, steadied her, and supported her up to the landing, where she stood laughing shakily and thanking everyone for keeping her from taking a tumble down the stairs.
“I sure wouldn’t want to spend Christmas in a cast,” Noelle said.
“Or a coffin,” Bob Noyes said. “Do you know how many accidents happen on stairs, some of them fatal?”
“No,” one of the women said. “And we don’t want to. We want to see the upstairs decorations. Let’s see, Noelle.”
Soon the fright on the staircase was a distant memory. Noelle sparkled right along with her dress as she showed off the tree on the upstairs landing, the one with bubble lights, vintage 1950’s ornaments, and a train that ran around the outer edge of the tree skirt. She posed in front of it, a smile of pure joy on her face. Nick found himself pulling his phone out of the breast pocket of his tux to capture the moment along with everyone else.
The tour of the upstairs included the teddy bear tree in the boy-themed bedroom, the Nutcracker tree in the girl-themed bedroom, and the Jack-and-Jill bathroom in between that featured a table top tree full of Santa ornaments, sleighs, and reindeer, plus one on the back of the commode bedecked with miniature toys.
The piece de resistance was, of course, the master suite, inspired by Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Noelle had actually likened Nick to Scrooge when he’d protested that he couldn’t sleep with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future staring down at him from the tops of their respective trees.
“Nonsense,” she’d said. “Just look at that merry Ghost of Christmas Present. You’ll go to sleep with a smile on your face.”
The lower half of the Christmas Future tree celebrated Scrooge as a changed man–Tiny Tim without his crutch, fat geese with labels attached to them, gleaming gold coins that caught the light, and figures of Scrooge dancing in his nightshirt, “merry as a schoolboy.” It was, however, the grim and ghastly Ghost of Christmas Future pointing his bony, accusing finger at him from across the room that Nick saw every night right before he closed his eyes.
Shut up, he’d mentally address the specter. It’s self-defense. I’m drowning in your confounded Christmas.
Nick remained in the doorway as their guests crowded in, exclaiming as they recognized elements of the story in the clever ornaments.
“Look, look! there’s Ali Baba!” one of the neighbors cried as he examined the Christmas Past tree, with the same delight of Scrooge himself at remembering a story he’d loved as a boy.
“And here’s the fiddler from the party at Fezziwig’s,” called another.
At last, the tree thoroughly examined and the pictures duly taken, the party arrived at the upstairs landing again. As Nick looked down the sweeping expanse of the staircase, he felt a sudden chill. He reached out and touched Noelle’s arm.
“Take off those shoes.”
“What? Why? They’re beautiful, Nicky. I don’t want to take them off.”
Nick stood up straight and loomed over his wife.
“Because it’s a long way down. If you trip in those shoes again and land on that marble floor in the foyer–“
“He’s right,” Bob Noyes chimed in. “If you fell, Nick could be collecting your life insurance for Christmas. And it’s considerable, too. Ow!” Bob rubbed his ankle where his wife had just kicked him. “What’d ya do that for, Marge? It is.”
“Honestly!” His wife shook her head. “Nick is right, Noelle. I’m taking mine off, too. I don’t want Bob collecting my considerable life insurance for Christmas, either,” Marge finished with a laugh.
“What if I give you a little kick, like the one you gave me?” Bob teased as Marge bent to slip out of her shoes.
“Not funny, Bob,” she said through gritted teeth, looking as if she was tempted to kick him again.
Moments later, all the female guests had made their way safely down the stairs, high heels in hand. And by the time Nick himself reached the bottom of the staircase, he that he would not be collecting Noelle’s considerable life insurance for Christmas, as surely as he knew that December 25th was Christmas Day. He knew just as surely that he would not be the only one putting up the decorations next year. He would loom and get his own way for once.
He patted the pocket with catnip mouse and heard the faint rustle of the plastic bag. Sometime over the next few days, he’d return it to the cupboard. Or maybe he’d even put it in the stocking that always hung next to his on the mantle piece. He felt he could be magnanimous at this point.
Funny thing was that as the admiring group wended its way to the sunken living room, he really did have to use the bathroom. After he dried his hands, he adjusted the bright Christmas hand towel just so, the way Noelle liked it. When he stepped out of the powder room, he heard a thump from the direction of the laundry room. The handle rattled. There was another thump and then the handle turned. The catch snicked free and luminous green eyes peered around the edge of the door.
“No,” Nick whispered, taking a step toward the cat. “Go back in your nice laundry room, Baby. I’ll bring you some more caviar.”
Baby shouldered his way into the hall. He stared at Nick and blinked. Then in one fluid movement, he launched himself, thundering past Nick at a speed that belied his considerable bulk. Nick made a dive for the tubby tomcat, only to faceplant on the tile, empty-handed. Baby never looked back. He headed straight for the living room.
Nick scrambled to his feet and gave chase.  When he skidded around the corner into the hall Nick  saw two things: Noelle posing happily in the living room, the heavily-laden tree towering above her– and Baby’s tail disappearing with a saucy flick into the bottom branches. Before Nick could even take another panting breath, Baby’s head poked out at the top. The tree began to rattle and sway. As it toppled forward, Nick saw the terror in Noelle’s eyes, the same terror that must have been in his own the first time Baby had scaled Number Seventeen. Guests dropped their phones and surged forward to grab the tree, to break its fall, to save Noelle from being crushed under the weight of her holiday exuberance. From where Nick stood, he could see that it was all happening too fast for anyone, least of all himself, to rescue Noelle.
Tune in next week for the final installment of THE SEVENTEENTH CHRISTMAS TREE.