“That’s whatIcall it,” Noah said. “It’s fifty feet tall, weighs approximately one emotional breakdown per branch, and last year it nearly concussed the mayor.”
“Define ‘nearly,’” Eli said.
Noah held up two fingers an inch apart. “Thisclose.”
Eli looked up at the tree. “I’m beginning to regret coming.”
“No you’re not,” Noah said lightly.
Damn him, that was almost true.
“Come on. You can help me with the mid-height strands.” Noah leaned in and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Gloria nearly killed a man last year over uneven spacing, so it’s best not to anger her.”
Eli coughed. “Yeah, that sounds like a good move.” He followed Noah to where three ladders were propped against thebranches, his breath fogging and fingers already cold despite gloves. Volunteers were laying out huge coils of lights in the snow, cursing in festive tones.
“All the lights have been tested,” Noah told him. “So our job today is to put them all over the tree.”
A lanky teen with purple hair jogged over. “Noah! One of the hooks snapped. Matty says the branch is cursed.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “It’s not cursed, it’s just old.”
The teen frowned. “He said it whispered at him.”
“Garrett…That was the wind.”
Garrett looked unconvinced but ran off.
Eli laughed. “You handle chaos very calmly.”
“It comes from experience,” Noah said. “Carpentry by day. Herding town events by night. My stress tolerance is basically mythical.”
Eli shook his head, amused.
“Okay.” Noah placed his hands on his hips. “You take the middle ladder. I’ll steady it. And I won’t lie this time—I really have only dropped someone once.”
Eli froze. “What?”
“I’m kidding! Honest, it’s just a joke,” Noah assured him, his hands raised. “Only one person has fallen, and that was his own stupid fault because he tried to reach too far. And it’s because of him we now follow the ‘don’t reach like an idiot’ rule.”
“How reassuring.”
“Safety first,” Noah said. “Sarcasm second.”
They approached the mid-height ladder. It looked taller than any ladder Eli had ever attempted to climb.
“You sure this is safe?” Eli asked.
“Nope,” Noah said cheerfully. “But it’s tradition.”
Eli groaned. “If I die, I’m haunting you.”
“Good. I get lonely.”
Eli tried not to react to that but failed.
There was nothing to do but climb.
The metal rungs were cold under his gloves. The lights looped over his shoulder bumped gently against his back as he went up, up, up. The ladder swayed slightly in the snow-laden breeze, but Noah braced it from below, his hands on the rail.
