Chapter 1 Noelle
Istare through the window where I’ve been watching the first fat flakes of snow beginning to fall, softly blanketing the yard and bushes in a white fluffy pillow. In the light, the crystals sparkle with a silvery sheen like they’re made of tiny diamonds. It’s a breathtaking sight.
December is my favorite month of the year, and since this is the first snowfall of the season, I can hardly contain my excitement.
Maybe that’s why my parents named me Noelle. An omen of the holiday-loving, cocoa-drinking, candy-cane addict daughter they had unknowingly unleashed into the world. I can be found singing carols and baking my favorite holiday treats nearly every day this month. Just so you know, sugar doesn’t count from Black Friday through New Year’s Day. The holiday season can’t be appreciated unless you’re willing to indulge in every sinfully sweet treat available.
To prove that point, I lift my hot cocoa to my lips and take a sip. It’s that perfect temperature that’s not too hot but still warm and tickles the back of my throat as I swallow. Or maybe that’s one of the fifty mini marshmallows I plopped inside, but who’s counting?
These calories really don’t count.I’m sticking to that mantra.
“Auntie Noah?”
I turn my gaze away from the snow that’s accumulating faster than my niece can reach for the remote and restart her favorite holiday movie.How the Grinch Stole Christmasis a holiday must in our family. It just doesn’t feel right until I’ve seen the Grinch grow his heart two sizes and restore everything he stole to every Who in Whoville.
My niece gives me an impatient look as I stare into her pretty brown eyes. They’re an exact match to my sister’s, along with the dimple in her left cheek when she smiles. Unless she’s about to throw a tantrum. Like now. I’ve gotten pretty good at recognizing one before it happens.
I set my hot cocoa on a nearby coaster and take a seat beside Ainsley on the couch. “Do you want to watch the Grinch again?”
She shakes her head. Her little arms fold over her chest as she sticks out her bottom lip.
“Are you feeling sad or angry?” When Ainsley gets in one of her moods, my sister prompts her to talk about her feelings and put them into words. It doesn’t work as well with me, but I have a secret weapon: tickles.
Ainsley’s upper lip curls. “No. I want nuggies.”
Ah. Chicken nuggets from Chick-fil-A. They’re her favorite. Well, mine too. Who doesn’t love them? They’re delicious. You don’t even need sauce.
This is not a debate.
“You just had breakfast two hours ago,” I gently remind her.
Not that I’m not down for nuggets. I totally am.
Her cheeks turn red, and that’s when I know a meltdown is imminent. I stretch my fingers toward her, keeping my expression neutral. “Oh, no.”
She purses her lips because she knows what’s coming.
“I can’t control my hand.” My fingers spasm as I inch closer to her.
A tiny smile stretches her lips before she scowls.
I’m already breaking down her defenses. This is easy. I reach her waist and begin to tickle her, laughing as she giggles, and her attitude disappears.
“Stop!” A tiny screech erupts from her lips before she laughs louder. “Auntie Noah!”
I stop tickling her and flop back against the cushions on my couch. “Gotcha!”
“You’re sneaky.” She doesn’t appear upset. “Can we get nuggies? Puh-lease?”
I’m a sucker for my niece. I hardly ever say no to her.
“Well, babygirl, if you want some nuggies, I’ll take you to the mall.” It’s my Saturday with Ainsley. I take her twice a month so my sister can have a break. She works way too hard as a single mom. “If you want, we can see Santa.”
My niece jumps to her feet with a squeal. “Yay!”
“But it’s snowing and cold out, so you have to wear your boots, coat, mittens, and hat.” I’m specific on purpose. If I don’t list them all, she might try to ignore the ones I don’t mention.
Ainsley is a sly little thing. Like her mama. I smirk at the thought.
