Letter from Noelle Sinclair to her sister, Marcia Roberts

Dear Marcia,
You’ll never guess what happened! I’ve been laid up! It’s just too, too bad since it’s so close to Christmas and there’s still so much to do.
And yes, sister dear, I got my flu shot this year. So did Nick. It wasn’t easy, but I made sure of it. That man is such a coward about needles. Poor Baby makes him sneeze, but will he get allergy shots? No, because he’s deathly afraid of needles. A grown man!
So, I’m not sick, but I am in bed recovering. The whole thing has taken so much out of me!
Here’s what happened. You know my annual Christmas party? You really must fly out for it one of these years. You’ve never seen the house all done up for Christmas. It turned out even better this year. The tree I added to the group in the front hall came out so well. It was just what that space needed. Now, where was I? The party, right.
Everything was going perfectly. I was giving the tour and posing in front of each tree for pictures the way I always do. I found the most gorgeous dress at Nordstrom–emerald green with lots of sequins. It looked stunning with my emerald Christmas tree necklace. Anyway, everyone oohed and ahhed over the decorations and told me I’d really outdone myself this time and asked how did I ever get it all done, it must be so much work. Well, it is a lot of work, but it’s worth it because it’s so beautiful when it’s done.
Well, there I was, posing front of the tree that stands on the top step of the sunken living room. As usual, it’s covered in balls and garland, I tucked sparkly turquoise poinsettias amongst the branches this year, too. And I finally found the perfect star for the top, bigger and shinier than the old one, lead crystal, actually. As I was saying, I was standing there in the living room in front of that tree when Baby came racing across the front hall and climbed up the inside of the tree as if half the dogs in the neighborhood were after him. I told Nick to shut him in the laundry room. You’d think he’d remember, the way he complains about my sweet little kitty–Baby gets under his feet, Baby makes him sneeze, there’s cat hair on his suit. Nick insists that he did put “that cat” in the laundry room with caviar to keep him happy. He says Baby opened the door himself. I suppose that could be what happened. Baby is a very clever kitty.
Anyway, ornaments were flying in every direction and before I knew it, Baby’s head popped out at the top of the tree, right by the star. The tree swayed and started to fall right on top of me! It all happened so fast I couldn’t get out of the way and none of my guests could put their phones away in time to catch the tree. Then, at the very last second, Baby saved me! He jumped out of the tree and landed on my head, knocking me sideways. And just in time, too. One of the points of the star barely missed my eye!
The shock of it has sent me to bed. Plus, I’m injured. Poor Baby was so scared, he dug his claws into my scalp and I have a nasty scrape on my cheek from the star. As if that weren’t enough, I tripped over some decorative Christmas packages on my way down and twisted my ankle.
So, I’m laid up in bed four days before Christmas. Does Nick care, though? Of course not. You know how I always make cookies to take to the neighbors? Nick ordered them from the bakery and had them delivered! Where is his Christmas spirit? And he refuses to wrap the last two closetsful of gifts. Yesterday, he brought me a huge stack of unwrapped presents, along with wrapping paper, scissors, tape, tags, and ribbon and told me to wrap them myself. He won’t even put his finger on the ribbon while I tie the bows. The only helpful thing he’s done about the gift wrapping is to shut Baby in the laundry room. He’s contrived something that involves a bungee cord to keep Baby from getting out and making a mess of the paper and ribbons.
I really hate to do that to Baby. He saved my life. He really did. It took three of the tallest husbands to right the tree after it fell–it’s that heavy. Bob Noyes, who’s in insurance, said it was a hazard and I should be glad it fell on me and not one of my guests. He tried to sell Nick an umbrella policy then and there. Of all the nerve.
And Nick won’t buy more ornaments to replace the ones that got broken. He says I have to be content with the ones I already have, since there are eight storage bins in the Christmas shed crammed full of ornaments I can use. You would think he’d do whatever he could to make me feel better. Maybe I can get Sue down the street to go to the store for me.
So, Marcia, this will not be the merriest of Christmases, but the house looks wonderful!
Love to all,
Noelle