by Joanne Fluke
“Thanks!” Hannah said, opening the back door to retrieve the tree stand. As her mother and sisters were so fond of telling her, Norman was a real find. Most men wouldn’t have given her living room rug a second thought, but he was always planning ahead to make her life easier.
The tree stand was a challenge as they soon discovered. There were four long screws protruding into the center ring that could be cranked in or out to tighten the base of the tree in the stand. At the present, they were in all the way and it took longer than Hannah thought it would to loosen them. Both Norman and Mike knelt down to help and the three of them turned the cranks until their wrists were sore.
“Is that in far enough?” Hannah asked, pointing to her screw.
Norman looked over at what she’d done and nodded. “It looks good to me. Just let me work on this last screw for a minute and I’ll see how much room we’ve got.”
“When you’re through, we can try to put the tree in.” Mike straightened up and rubbed the small of his back. “I don’t like this tree stand.”
Norman looked up from his crouched position on the garage floor. “Neither do I, but this was the best they had. The problem was, I didn’t know if Hannah had one and I didn’t want to spoil the surprise by asking.”
“It’s a good thing you got it,” Hannah told him. “I have the one down at the shop, but that’s it.”
“You’d think that with cell phones that do practically everything except pack your lunch, somebody could come up with a better design.” Mike looked down at the tree stand. “This one’s been around since I was a kid.”
“There was another kind, but I thought it looked even worse,” Norman told them. “It has a sharp spike on the bottom and you’re supposed to lay the tree on its side and drive the spike into the base with a hammer.”
Mike looked confused. “How are you supposed to do that?” he asked. “If you try to pound in the spike, the tree will just scoot across the floor. And even if you hold it with one hand, you need both hands to pound in the spike.”
“You’re right.” Norman said. “You need one hand to hold the spike at the center of the trunk. And you need the other hand for the hammer.”
“Then it must take two people to use that kind of tree stand,” Hannah suggested.
“I think it would take three people,” Norman corrected her. “Have you ever tried to hold a board steady while someone else hammers a nail into it?”
“I have,” Mike told him. “My brother and I used to put up fencing around my mother’s vegetable garden to keep out the rabbits. Other people used chain link, but our mother wanted a green picket fence with two inches between the pickets. I was the youngest so I used to be on the outside holding the picket while my older brother drove the nail to hold the strip of wood that attached them. Every blow knocked me back, even though I braced myself. And when I tried to anticipate and jump forward to meet the hammer blow, my timing was off and that didn’t work either.”
Once Norman had decided that the center ring was large enough for the tree trunk, Hannah held the stand in place while the men took the tree down from the top of Norman’s car and attempted to insert the trunk into the ring.
“It won’t go down,” Mike stated the obvious. “It’s catching on those branches at the bottom.”
“Then we’ll have to cut them off.” Norman turned to Hannah. “Do you have a pruning saw?”
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t have any gardening tools. All that’s done by the grounds crew and it’s part of my monthly maintenance assessment.”
“You’ve got to have some kind of a saw,” Mike said. “Most homeowners do. We can use anything.”
“Like what?” Hannah asked him.
“Hand saw, crosscut saw, coping saw, keyhole saw, or even a hacksaw,” Norman told her. “We’ll take anything at this point.”
Hannah was at a loss. She knew what all those saws were. She’d worked summers in her father’s hardware store. But she didn’t own any of them. “How about a Ginsu knife?” she asked. “I got it from a TV commercial, and it said it could cut through frozen vegetables. Maybe it would cut through a tree branch?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll make a call and get a pair of bolt cutters. That should work on the bottom branches.”
While they waited for Lonnie Murphy to arrive with the bolt cutters, Hannah opened the storage area over her carport and took out the box of her grandmother’s ornaments. She’d never used them, and this was the perfect time. None of her sisters had wanted them. Andrea had ornaments from Bill’s family, Michelle was still living at home and didn’t need them, and Hannah had become the beneficiary by default.
“What’s that?” Mike asked, watching Hannah retrieve the box.
“Christmas ornaments. They belonged to my grandparents.”
“Are they glass?” Norman asked her.
Hannah tried to remember. She recalled delicate blown glass baskets filled with purple glass grapes. There were also glass strawberries with curved stems that made their own hangers, and huge silver and gold balls that had seemed as big as balloons to her as a child. The only ornaments that weren’t glass were the ones that her Great-Grandma Else had made. They were handcrafted birds that perched on the tree branches.
“I think most of them are glass,” she said.
“If you use any of the glass ones, put them on branches near the top,” Norman told her.
“Because of Moishe?”
“Right. I made the mistake of putting a glass ball on a branch near the bottom of my tree. Cuddles thought it was a toy.”
“Did it break?”
“No, but it could have. Now the only things I have hanging from the bottom two branches are plastic ornaments.”
“I thought you said Cuddles didn’t bother your tree,” Hannah reminded him.
“She doesn’t, not anymore. That ball just intrigued her, I guess. It was really shiny and it probably acted as a mirror. And Cuddles loves to bat at her reflection in the mirror.”
Hannah thought about putting the box of ornaments back in her storage area, but she really wanted to see her family’s Christmas keepsakes again. She’d compromise by using the ones that wouldn’t break and hanging only one of each glass ornament on the upper branches where Moishe couldn’t reach them.
“Here comes Lonnie,” Mike said as a police cruiser came down the ramp of the parking lot. He gave a wave and Lonnie pulled up to them.
Lonnie rolled down his window. “You need these?” he asked, handing the bolt cutters out the window to Mike.
“I don’t need them. You need them.” Mike stepped back so that Lonnie could get out of the cruiser. “Trim the bottom branches off the Christmas tree so it’ll fit in the tree stand.”
“And this is the police emergency the dispatcher called me about?” Lonnie asked, grinning at his boss.
“Yes, it is. Your supervisor was down on the floor of Hannah’s garage and his knees were getting sore. Your knees are younger. You do it.”
They watched as Lonnie made short work of trimming the lower branches of the tree. Then Mike held it in place while Norman, Lonnie, and Hannah tightened the screws to hold it securely.
“All done,” Lonnie said, getting to his feet.
“Not quite,” Mike told him. “Now you’re going to help us carry it up the stairs to Hannah’s condo. I’ll take the top, you take the bottom, and Norman will take that box of ornaments.”
“And Hannah will take the bag in the trunk,” Norman added, clicking his remote to open it. “I picked up some mini-lights and a few ornaments.”
A few moments later the procession moved up the outside staircase to Hannah’s condo. Mike was in the lead with the tip of the tree, Lonnie followed behind him, Norman was next carrying the big box of Swensen family ornaments, and Hannah brought up the rear with a plastic red and green bag that said CRAZY ELF on both sides in four-inch high block letters.
Mike reached the landing first. He mov
ed back as far as he could so Lonnie could join him and they set the tree down in front of the door. “Can you unlock it, or shall we move the tree back?” he asked Hannah.
“I think I can get it.” Hannah reached between two branches and inserted her key in the lock.
“How about Moishe?” Mike asked. “If he tries to jump out in your arms, he’s going to think the forest has come to visit.”
Hannah laughed. “He’ll be fine as long as it’s not Birnam Wood and his name isn’t Macbeth.”
But Moishe was nowhere to be seen when Hannah opened the door and the men carried in the tree. He must have heard the commotion and decided that discretion was the better part of valor, or in his case, wriggling under or behind something was better than remaining in the open.
“I’ll find him,” Norman said, setting the box of ornaments on the floor and heading straight for the kitchen. “Here he is,” he called out.
Hannah got to the doorway just in time to see her cat jumping down into Norman’s arms from the top of the refrigerator. Norman carried him out to the living room couch, put him down in his favorite spot, and gave him a scratch behind the ears. “Don’t worry,” Norman told him. “It’s just a Christmas tree.”
Moishe looked over at the tree, which was now sitting in the corner of the living room, and laid his ears back flat against his head. Hannah knew what that meant. Her cat did not approve of a tree in his living room. He gave a little growl deep in his throat to confirm it and welcomed the stately Scotch Pine with a malignant stare.
“Coffee?” Hannah asked the assembled group of men. Even though she really didn’t feel like making a pot, it was the proper question for a good Minnesota hostess to ask.
“I could use another cup,” Mike said.
“Me, too,” Norman chimed in quickly.
“Count me in,” Lonnie told her. “I’ll water your tree while you make it. All I need is a plastic pitcher.”
“Wait a second,” Hannah said. “I want to put something under that tree stand in case it leaks.”
Norman look puzzled. “But it shouldn’t leak. It’s brand new.”
“I know, but I don’t want to take the chance. Phil and Sue’s living room is right below mine and they just got new carpeting. I’ll just be a second.”
For once in her life, the large, square, plastic box was right where she remembered. Hannah got it down from the top shelf of the guest room closet and carried it out to the living room. “This yarn box should be about the right size. I’ll get a bag for the yarn and needles.”
“I didn’t know you crocheted,” Norman called after her.
“I don’t.” Hannah came back with the garbage bag and proceeded to dump in the yarn.
“Then you must knit,” Norman tried another alternative.
“I don’t do that either.”
“If you don’t knit or crochet, why do you have a box full of yarn and needles?” Mike asked.
“Because someone left it in the last apartment I rented when I was in college and none of the neighbors had a forwarding address. It was too good to throw away, so I just moved it along with the rest of my things.”
While they were talking, Lonnie had lifted the tree, shoved the empty box under it with his foot, and set the tree stand inside the box. “It’s a perfect fit,” he said. “What are you going to do with all that yarn?”
“Give it to the thrift store, I guess. I know a couple of people who quilt, but I don’t know anyone who knits or crochets.”
“I do.” Lonnie began to smile.
“Who?”
“My sister-in-law. Jessica learned how to crochet these really cute stuffed animals for the kids. Larry Jaeger saw one of her lions when they brought the kids out to the Crazy Elf to buy their tree and he told Jessica he’ll take as many as she could turn out. He pays her ten dollars for each one and he sells them in the toy shop.”
Hannah realized that Jessica’s crocheted toys were probably the ones Andrea had bought for Bethie and Tracey. If Andrea had paid twenty dollars each and Larry had bought them for ten dollars apiece from Jessica, the toy shop was making a hundred percent profit.
“Take the yarn with you when you go,” Hannah told Lonnie. “Jessica’s more than welcome to it.”
While Hannah put on the coffee, Lonnie found a pitcher and filled the tree stand with water. Hannah glanced around her kitchen, trying to think of something to serve along with the coffee and her gaze fell on the package of soda crackers sitting on the counter. That was a good base. What else did she have?
One glance into the refrigerator and she had her answer. She’d made a triple batch of Nancy Henderson’s Christmas Cheese Rounds and they were wrapped in plastic wrap in the cheese drawer. Cheese and crackers would do nicely, especially since it was spur of the moment. But Norman and Mike had eaten Easy Cheesy Biscuits only a few hours ago. Was there such a thing as too much cheese?
Hannah considered it for a brief moment and then dismissed it. Minnesota was a dairy state. Anyone who lived here couldn’t get too much cheese, butter, milk, and cream. Besides, she wanted to try one of Nancy’s cheese treats. They were unusual and one of the ingredients was sure to cause raised eyebrows.
Hannah opened a jar of the jalapeno jelly that Florence had special-ordered for her at the Red Owl. She placed the cheese ball in the center of a serving plate, heated a few spoonfuls of jelly in the microwave until she could stir it smooth, and spooned it over the top of the cheese round. As she added a small serving knife to the plate, she decided that there was no way she’d mention what kind of jelly she’d used before they tasted it.
It was a simple matter to put some crackers into a napkin-lined basket and she carried it to the table, along with the cheese ball. “Try my homemade cheese ball,” she said. “Coffee’s coming right up.”
Of course they tried it. And as she poured coffee and placed the mugs on a tray, she listened to the conversation taking place while they munched.
“Do you taste some kind of spice?” Norman asked.
“I don’t know,” Lonnie replied. “Maybe it’s onions?”
“It doesn’t taste like onions,” Mike offered his opinion. “It tastes more like…peppers or something like that.”
“Whatever it is, it’s good!” Lonnie said. “What do you think, Norman?”
“I think it’s in the sauce or whatever that is on top. And I like it a lot.”
Hannah came through the doorway with the coffee and plunked it down on the table. “Jalapenos,” she said. And then she watched their expressions change to surprise.
“But it’s not that hot,” Mike said. “Believe me I’ve had jalapenos before and they’re a lot hotter than this.”
“That’s because this is jalapeno jelly, not straight jalapenos from the can.”
“Maybe the sugar takes away some of the heat,” Norman guessed, reaching for another cracker and loading it up with cheese and jelly. “This is really good, Hannah. I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”
“I have,” Mike said, giving Hannah a knowing look. “Somebody I know made Jalapeno Brownies as a special surprise for me.”
Hannah itched to correct him. The brownies hadn’t been a special surprise. They’d been an attempt to get even when he’d said that another woman’s brownies were the best he’d ever tasted. Unfortunately, her brownie punishment had back-fired. Mike had loved his fiery treats.
“Eat up boys, and then it’s time to go,” Hannah said. “It’s already after eleven and I have to get up at four in the morning.”
“But how about decorating the tree?” Norman asked her. “Don’t you want us to help you with it?”
“Yes, but not tonight.” Hannah gave him a smile to show that she appreciated his offer of help. “I’m just too tired to do any more tonight. I’ll call you in the morning and we’ll set something up.”
Five minutes later the cups, the cheese plate, and the serving knife were in the dishwasher, and Hannah had reset the coffee pot for the mor
ning. It didn’t take her long to brush her teeth, wash her face, and put on the oversized sweat suit she wore to bed when it was sub-zero weather. She was about to climb into bed when she realized that Moishe wasn’t in his accustomed spot on the pillow next to hers.
“Moishe?” she called out, but there were no soft kitty footfalls in the hallway. Moishe was still in the living room and that was when Hannah remembered that neither Mike nor Norman had pulled Moishe aside for that cautionary talk about the Christmas tree.
It’s always up to the mother, Hannah thought, and then she grinned at her phrasing. She wasn’t Moishe’s mother. She’d need four legs and a tail to qualify for that position. But there were times, like now, when she felt she should exercise some maternal authority.
He was on the back of the couch looking perfectly inscrutable when Hannah retraced her steps to the living room. He was facing the tree and Hannah had the feeling that she should be extremely persuasive.
“How’s my kitty boy?” she asked, sitting down on the couch and reaching up to pet him. “Do you like my Christmas tree?”
There was a beat of silence, and then another. After ten seconds or so, Hannah figured that Moishe was not going to respond.
“We’ll decorate it tomorrow night and you’ll see how pretty it is,” she told him. “You’ll like it, Moishe. I know you will. It’s the holidays and we’re celebrating.”
More silence, stretching out for even longer this time. Hannah continued to pet and reassure her feline roommate. “Since it’s Christmas, I think I should get you some new catnap mice. What do you think of that?”
There was another second of silence and then she heard a very soft meow. “Two mice?” she asked. “Or three mice?”
“Rowwwww,” Moishe responded, moving over to lick her hand.
“Three mice it is then,” Hannah repeated, scratching him on his favorite spot under the chin. “Come on, Moishe. It’s late and I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”