Eggnog & Evergreen

20 • Deck the Walls

"I don't care. As long as you're in this house for Christmas, you're putting on that sweater, Noelle." My mother stands in the doorway, hands on her hips.

I look down at the red Christmas sweater my mom laid out on my bed. "But-"

"And once you've got it on, I could use some help making drinks," she says.

I watch her turn and retreat down the hallway, cursing under my breath the entire time.

The sweater's plush fluffy fabric makes my skin crawl as I pull it on. The big FA LA LA LA LA across the chest is the most horrific thing I've ever seen. I look like an overwrapped buffoon.

I apply a thick layer of makeup and pin my hair up into a twisty knot before joining my mother in the kitchen.

Appetizers and hors d-oeuvres are laid out on the countertops, but the bird is still in the oven. a green bean casserole is simmering on the stove. I mosey over to the cheese tray and pop a cube and cracker in my mouth.

The service bar is set up with festive looking wine glasses and a snowman ice bucket. Slices of orange and cinnamon sticks float in the snow globe looking punchbowl. Ho, Ho, Ho Let it Snow serving napkins are stacked on the edge.

"I saw this recipe in a post online," my mom explains. "It's supposed to be an earthy, spicy punch."

"Is that what the pine needles are for?" I ask, sarcastic. "I hope there's no dirt in it."

"Set the table, please." My mom nods to the plates and silverware she's unloaded onto the counter.

I carry everything from the kitchen into the dining room. The table is long and stretches down the center of the room; its long green velvet tablecloth drapes onto the floor. Snow-dusted pine trees occupy all the corners. And of course, white lights are strung up around the perimeter of the room.

It somehow smells like wintry wonderland in here.

I move around the wide oak table, setting up silver and gold plates, arranging silverware, and folding fancy napkins. Thanks to the year I waitressed at an upscale NYC restaurant, I can make a nice swan-looking creature. I put a little twig on top of every setting.

I retire to the family room once I'm done staging the table. My dad is hanging even more evergreen garland in the foyer. Literally, we are decking the halls and walls for this party. Don't ask me why we need even more decorations.

"Noelle, your aunt and uncle just pulled up. Your aunt called ahead, and she has dessert platters in the car. Go out and see if they need an extra set of hands."

The cold air bites at my nose as I step onto our porch. The bright headlights on my uncle's car almost blind me as I walk down the stairs. I tiptoe through the snow.

"Hi Aunt Holly, Uncle Hank," I shout through the night.

"Oh, don't come out, kiddo. We can manage it all," my uncle says.

"Are you sure?" I ask, still attempting to shield my eyes from the light.

"Yes, don't fuss. Come, now," Aunt Holly says, pulling me along with her.

We retreat back up the steps, leaving my uncle alone at the car.

Stepping back inside, I can really smell the crispy prosciutto wrapped asparagus and the cranberry Brie quiche. I take my aunt's coat and usher her through to the kitchen. I feel the cold air against my neck as my uncle opens the door.

I turn around and come face to face with –

"Nik!" I exclaim, confused.

"Noelle," he smiles softly.

He pulls the hat from his head and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. I falter a step back, showered with drops of wet snow from his hair.

"You're here -In my house!" I say, looking around for someone else to be as outraged as I am.

"It appears I am." Nik grimaces apologetically.

"And why are you in my house?" I whisper, so close to his face I can see the snow in his eyelashes.

"I didn't want to -I was coaxed along -promised a quiet dinner-" Nik stutters.

"And it didn't occur to you that it was a dinner at my parents' house?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Afraid you'll have too much fun tonight, now that I'm here?" He grins.

"Hardly," I scoff. "And to think I was already dreading the three-course sit-down and now this."

"And now you're excited for it?" Nik asks.

My uncle opens the door, carrying two foil-wrapped trays; a cooler dangles from his arm.

"Got your nog, Nik," he says, holding up the cooler.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter. "More eggnog."

My uncle reaches the kitchen and it's just the two of us in the foyer again. The lights from the chandelier cast a warm glow over his face. Even the shadows in his eyes are dancing.

"Look," Nik says, taking a step towards me. We are so close I can see the threads woven in his sweater. "It's only a dinner. I promise not to get in your way."

"You better not," I hiss. "And stop smiling like that!"

"Like what?" He asks innocently.

"Like you're going to get in my way."