Ellie chewed her lower lip, tension building in her neck as she tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed. This decision was vital. One false move, and the entire thing was ruined.
She took a cautious step forward, her eyebrows pinching.
Ellie held her breath, arm outstretched—then, with a sudden shake of her head, she stepped back. Lola sank to the floor with a sigh. Cleo froze, eyes flicking between them. Ellie went back to staring at the Christmas tree, the lights blinking quietly in the silence.
“Just put it on, Ellie,” Lola said.
“She can’t ‘just put it on’, you dope. If she doesn’t place that ornament in the perfect spot, the whole tree’s aesthetic will be ruined.”
“The tree’s what?” Lola asked, her wrinkly bull-dog face pinching further.
“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand,” Cleo said with a shake of her head. “It’s important. Although, not that important. Wherever you put that silver bell, I’m going to rip it down and carry it around the house at two in the morning.”
Ellie scrunched up her face. “Are you serious? Wait—how many times have you knocked over the tree since you got here?”
Cleo glanced out at the falling snow. “I’ll take the fifth.”
Ellie crossed her arms, shifting her gaze to Lola. The miniature bulldog rose to her feet, her tail wagging. “I’ve never knocked it down.”
“Goody-goody,” Cleo murmured with a huff.
“She’s not a goody-goody because she doesn’t destroy the beautiful tree that someone worked hard to decorate.”
“I haven’t knocked it down that much,” Cleo said. “But once, Susie put the silver bell waaaaay at the top. I had to climb and climb. Going up was fine. Getting down…not so great.”
“Don’t climb the tree. Here, tell you what—you take the ornament. I won’t hang it.” Ellie laid the silver bell at Cleo’s feet as she lounged on the back of the couch.
Cleo sat up, leaning away from it. “Pass. I don’t want it if you’re going to give it to me. Never mind, I’ll just grab one of the people from the manger scene.”
“Don’t steal people from the manger scene!” Ellie shouted.
“Last year, she stole baby Jesus,” Lola reported. “And left him in her food bowl.”
Ellie wagged a finger at the cat. “We’re going to be smote because of you.”
“What?” The cat wrinkled her nose. “Smote? Is that even a word?”
“Smited. Smoted. Whatever. We’re going to be hit with a bolt of lightning if you don’t stop messing with the decorations.”
“The Big Guy made me this way. He understands,” Cleo answered before she swatted the silver bell off the couch and sprawled out again.
It jingled for a second before landing with a thud on the area rug. Ellie snatched it with a frown and tossed it back in the bin.
“Not putting that one on the tree?” Mia said as she walked into the living room, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand.
Cleo sat up again. “Hey, where’s mine?”
“Thanks, Mia. Nah, I was going to leave the silver bell off. I think the tree’s fine without it.” Ellie wrapped her hand around the warm mug, taking a deep inhale of the chocolatey scent.
“Aww, I like that one,” Mia said, “but you’re right. The tree looks great.”
“Until I knock it down,” Cleo said.
