Christmas with Nick Klaas

Part 31: Happy Yuletide!

Noelle precariously balanced on top of the step-stool as she pushed up on her tippy-toes, but the branch she was eyeing for the last ornament—a mermaid she had bought in the Copenhagen airport gift shop on her connecting flight home last year—was still out of reach. Maybe if she hadn't been wearing her favorite pair of skin-tight, black leather pants, she could have stretched the additional two inches needed. Then again, she was the one who refused any assistance in prepping for the holiday season this year. And where did that get her? That's right. Standing on a too-short ladder and about to fall into the prettiest tree she'd ever seen.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the smoke detector going off made Noelle wobble, but she caught herself just in time. Backing down the steps, she ran toward the kitchen as the smell of burnt cookies hit her nose.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" she pleaded. She couldn't afford to have anything go wrong. Not today of all days.

A wisp of smoke was already floating out from the oven, but when she fully opened the door, the whole kitchen became engulfed in a stinking, gray fog. Grabbing a heat-proof mitt, Noelle pulled the cookie sheet out only to find a dozen, smoldering black discs. Darn it. The shortbread would definitely be off the menu tonight. She should have just stuck with her no-bake coconut rum balls. There was no chance of burning those, although at this rate, she'd probably find a way to mess them up, too.

Noelle pouted. She was starting to remember why she used to dislike Christmas so much. After throwing the mess into the garbage bin, she stretched to unlatch the window above the sink. But as soon as she pushed the panes open to let the fresh air in, the doorbell rang.

She gasped. "They're early!"

Noelle had been sure she had at least another hour before the visitors arrived, but she must have lost track of time somewhere between cleaning, decorating, and baking. Running to the entryway, she nearly slipped in her candy cane patterned socks on the hardwood floors before skidding to a stop with an exasperated "whoa."

Taking a calming, deep breath, she opened the door. Outside, it was dark and cold. The snow had been coming down hard for the last few hours and there was no sign of it relenting anytime soon. But that didn't bother the guest standing on the porch wearing a furry coat and a huge smile.

"Oh my gosh! It's so good to see you. You look amazing as always," Avery gushed as she pulled Noelle into a hug, errant snowflakes falling from her shoulders onto the threshold.

"You, too! And I'm so happy you're here," Noelle greeted her back, ushering Avery inside. "And congratulations again for being named the next director of the New York City Concert Orchestra, by the way."

Avery waved her off as she slipped out of her coat. "Aww, stop. That promotion was months ago," she said in her Texas drawl that hadn't quite disappeared after years of living in Yankee territory, trying her best to stay modest in spite of an even bigger smile on her face that the acknowledgement brought.

"Well, I haven't seen you in forever, so forgive me for a bit of vicarious pride," Noelle said before turning back toward the door. "Where are the others?"

As soon as the question left her lips, two kids bounded up the steps and into the house.

"There you are!" Noelle exclaimed before quickly helping the girl out of her snowy jacket. "Oh, you're so big, Holly. How old are you now? Eleven was it?"

The little girl giggled. "No, Aunt Noelle! Chris is eleven. I'm seven," she explained.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Noelle said with exaggerated seriousness before winking at Holly's older brother who was kicking off his boots a few feet away. "I always get the two of you mixed up."