Le Cadeux de Noel

“Mooooooooooommmmmyyy …”

“No.”

“Please, Mommy? I prwomise.”

“Promise what, Little Me?”

“I prwomise I’ll go right to bed after a story.”

“We go through this all the time, Rachel.”

“That’s true Big Me, and don’t I always go to sleep after story time.”

“Don’t listen to her Mom,” said a whiny and frustrated voice at the doorway. Jean turned around expecting to see her six year old son to have a pouted bottom lip, his feet spread apart, and his hands on his lips. She adjusted her position to look and see. Yep. There he was in phase one of Tantrum Mode. Nope, no psychic abilities needed there. Leaning against the door was her husband of eleven years. Wearing what has become signature dark neutral tones, and leaning against the door frame with his head leaning down he flashed her a not-so-innocent smile. He pushed up his red ruby quartz Oakleys up as he guided his son into the room.

*I thought you were going to put him to bed. You suck* she thought at him.

*Well, well well. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle. Oh yea, Rachel looks real sleepy*, Scott chided her. As if on cue their five year old daughter began to jump on her bed pleading for a bed time story. Her red and green festive pajamas competed for attention with her flaming hair and blended in with her equally decorative bedspread and room. Scott gave his wife a once over and nearly purred in delight. She was wearing a what was becoming her signature look as well. A tee shirt, which had the three wise men in shorts with a gps a map and a compass all still going the wrong way, and a pair of sweat pants with food and water color stains on it made her look like a total mom. What kind of mom, ahuh, a M.I.L.F. His thoughts were about to continue when a book came flying out of nowhere and smacked him in the head.

“OW, Dear. What was that for?” His response was her narrowed eyes.

He bent down and picked up the book that was telekinetically thrown at him and it was a picture novel of a classic holiday story. “This should work. So kids, who still wants to hear a story.”

Rachel answered enthusiastically, while Nate just shrugged and gave a whatever nod.

Then he looked at his sister horror struck. “Oh god, as long as it’s not about fairies. I hate that stupid stuff.”

Rachel punched her brother in his arm. “Fairies aren’t stupid. They could kick your butt any day! Besides I love fairies.”

“Nuh uh. Fairies can’t kick no butt. They’re fairies. That’s what they do. Nothing. Excpet fly around and be annoying. Hey, no wonder why you like them.”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY! Nate’s making fun of me again.

Jean had almost made it to the door when it started.

“Alright you two. Listen up. This is how this is going to work. Both of you will spend tonight, Christmas Eve, downstairs in the living room with your father and I. We will make hot chocolate and read this story, and the both of you will like it and behave.”

“Or else,” the little boy challenged.

“Or else, or wont have a choice.”

Rachel cheered, Nate frowned, and Scott looked sad.

*Great, not you too.*

*I - - I thought that we were gonna spend Christmas Eve under the tree, you know, making sure that the base was, um, sturdy.*

Jean rolled her eyes. “That was checked earlier. And I have it on good authority that the mistletoe works and the base is very very sturdy. Like a rock.”

“Oh?”

“Yea, I had to totally pry it out of Ro.” Jean inhaled quickly and covered her mouth.

“Jesus, Jean. Was it Ro or Logan? And did you pry or did Logan just offer the gritty details, then ask if he could show you how its down? Was Ro even involved in this conversation?”

“Scoooott. Common. My feet are tired from chasing those two little boogers around everywhere. I do not have the time to chase Logan or run from him after throwing myself in front of him.”

Scott raised a brow waiting for the rest of the response.

“I was talking to Logan ok. That was because Ro was aloof as usual. It was a little weird though.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t throw himself at me, at all. Not in any way shape or form. It was odd.”

“And your worried about this? Are you kidding me!”

“Scott, give him some credit. After the disasters that have happened with his past attempts at relationships, and the light switch signals that he’s been through the last umpteen years with Ro, and her apocalyptic marriage, I think its wonderful they finally have decided to give themselves a chance. They both have grown up about it.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m just a little sad about not being able to lock them in the Danger Room and letting them fuck it out.”

Jean swatted his arm and walked with him down to the kitchen to make the warm confection for the children.

When they were finished in the kitchen, they settled in with their children who were already under reindeer adorned blankets next to bundles of presents wrapped in glittery paper under the gold and white lit eleven foot Christmas tree.

Even though Nate protested the story, he wanted to be apart of what was so obviously turning into a new Summer’s tradition.

Scott’s baritone voice opened the story and both the gazes of his snuggled up children and his wife held the attention to it.

“The story begins on a wintery night, very much like this. Back in the days of petticoats, top hats, and cobble stone streets.”

“Horses too, Daddy?”

“Yes, Rachel, horses too.”

“Shut up, Ray. This story will never finish if you keep asking questions.”

“Alright you two, don’t make me take away the chocolate.”

“Sorry Mom,” both children said.


“Hellooo, story guy here, with a story.”

“Go ahead, honey.”

“Trying to. Ahh, lets see. Cobblestone streets, that’s right. Well as it so happens that there lived a family on one of those streets. A father, mother, little brother and older sister.”

“Just like ours, right Daddy?”

“Something like it. But I betcha you might find something familiar about them.”

Even Nate perked up at this.

“Yes. The mother Frau Stahlbaum was from England. She had loved to have parties. Her exotic looks were always in high demand. Her dark grape hair always made excellent conversation starters. Her husband Herr Stahlbaum was often quiet the opposite. Whereas the lady of the house was often an attention seeker, he avoided it. It was his job as a bank owner to work with fiancés and people. The last thing he wanted on Christmas Day was to be bothered by more people. Especially more women. All his wife’s friends just wanted to oogle at his Adonis-like looks.”

“So, what does the action take place during the party,” Nate asked.

“No. It’s not about the adults, so much. May I finish.”

Finally, Scott started the tale of the Stahlbaum children in the peace of the Christmas eve night.

Le Cadeux de Noel
Chapter 2

Marie tried getting her key in the door, but it was getting harder and harder. The damn keyhole kept moving. It really was. Those last four shots of tequila told her so. She turned around to ask for some help from Kitty but she wasn’t there. Marie peered around the column to see where she could have gone. She was to busy trying to keep her balance coming down the walkway wide enough for four men across. It should have been easy for her, Marie thought, she was moving at a snails pace.

“Damn,” she thought to herself. She put her hand on the large oak door to brace herself. Hopefully inserting and turning the key wouldn’t be a two handed job.

Scott had just sipped his hot chocolate when that funny rapping sound came through the door again.

He looked at the clock. 10:47. The club that the younger crew went to probably closed early on Christmas Eve. He was hoping that keys weren’t lost, or that they weren’t blazingly drunk.

As he got up to go to the door the smell of hard liquor wafted through. He groaned as he opened it. There was a plastered Anna-Marie, and Kitty being held up by the waist with their feet dangling by Peter. Behind him and the girls was Bobby on the ground who had apparently slipped on his own ice puddle.

“Get in, all of you. Shower then go to bed. Your lucky I’m busy right now or else you’d get a verbal beating right now.”

The simultaneous reply was, “Yesth Scoot.”

In about twenty minutes the young adults ended up coming down in Christmas printed and plaid pajamas to join the Summers’ family while Scott took a bathroom break. When he got back he tried to hide his surprise at the sight of his larger audience.

Bobby looked up with wide eyes, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Scott didn’t believe that act for a second. “Didn’t want a hang over, did you?”

“Daddy, what’s a hang over,” Nate asked.

Jean glared at everyone from her position behind her children, then gave a big bright smile. “Okay! Is everyone all settled in, yes, now we can continue on with our story?”

Scott made himself comfortable in the oversized fluffy recliner. He opened the picture book and began to describe the open scene full of festiveness.

~X~

Herr Staulbaum rolled his eyes at the noise from the party that took place below him. His wife loved to show off. He just hoped that his daughter wasn’t on the menu, so to speak. He hated that she was an object more than a person nowadays. He shuffled some of the spreadsheets into order, and sighed. Oh well, it was the price of growing up. That’s when he heard the soft knock on the door and smelled the eggnog and ginger cookies.

“She’s never late,” he said aloud just as his daughter poked her head in.

“Hello Father. I saw you dip in here and I knew you hadn’t had anything to eat.”

“Thank you Claire. Your intuition is impeccable as usual.” He smiled at her. She was beginning to bud into a young woman despite his wishes other wise. Soon she would be in another man’s household and no longer his “little girl.” He frowned at that. Sure she didn’t have any suitors yet, but there was plenty of time. He doubted that not even her special lock of snowy hair in a field of earthen brown would be an effective deterrent from the inevitable. He tucked that lock behind her ear as he sat down next to her to munch on cookies.

As they began to sip on eggnog, he produced a present wrapped in red with a gold bow for her from behind his back.

“Papa,” she squealed with delight, “what is this?”

“Last time I checked, they were called gifts.”

“I know that, but I didn’t see you give Fritz one. I would hate for him to be jealous.”

“Oh please, he will get presents if he behaves this year.”

Claire giggled. She didn’t tell him that her little brother was currently taking the very expensive cubes of ice and stuffing them into chairs so that it would surprise unexpecting guest in an unpleasant way.

Her father stroked his slow growing beard and mumbled, “I hope that boy isn’t playing with the ice, again. I think you should open that before you get distracted by a certain someone coming to visit.”

Claire looked a little confused. Her father new she was to old for tales of Saint Nicolas. Then she remember about that other certain someone who made his annual trip at this time and smiled widely. “When is he coming Papa?”

“I will tell you when you open it.”

Delicate fingers carefully untied the bow and unwrapped without tearing anything. There inside a small box was a gold locket. The locket had the picture of Saint George slaying the Green Dragon. It was beautifully detailed and full of texture. Her fingers traced the pattern.

“Open it,” her father said.

Inside was a working clock with precious tiny rubies one and six o clock and emeralds for three and nine o clock. The second hand moved and nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Papa, thank you so much.” She threw her arms around him and whispered, “You’re my Angel.”

He fastened the locket around her neck and squeezed her shoulders. “You better run along now. I don’t want your mother to come hunting for you. Besides you don’t want to be late.”

“Late?”

“Yes, I just saw a carriage pull up. You know the carriage of a certain beloved toymaker. Hmm. You know the one I’m talking about.”

Claire couldn’t help jumping up and down and squealing. She looked far younger than her twelve years. That was how her father wanted her to stay. As she bounded out of the room and down the stairs he looked out and smiled as he watched the old man in the chair be helped out by his young and agile looking son. He had fond memories of his childhood of fantastic toys brought by the man whom he called…

“Uncle Drosselmeyer, Claire exclaimed as she breathlessly greeted the older man at the door. “We’re so happy to have you here!”

Le Cadeux de Noel
Chapter 3



Kitty clapped her hands in a giddy manor and squealed. “Yeeeaaah! Uncle Drosselmeyer’s there. I love this part.” That statement only caused everyone to stop and look at her questionably. “What,” she asked.

Peter laughed softly. “Katya, aren’t you Jewish?”

“So? That doesn’t mean that I can’t like The …” The immediate shh’ing by Jean and Scott cut her comment off.

*Sorry, Kitten, but I want it to be a surprise for the children,* Jean told her.

“Well anyway, I like Christmas. Because of my open-mindedness people tend to give me presents. I usually add those with the ones I get from my family then I go throught my inventory and laugh manically. By the end of the season I finish with roughly nine or twelve presents. That’s right folks, I win.” She finished patting herself on the back by giving the crowd raspberries, which only further proved her maturity level.

Scott shifted dramatically so that the attention would shift back to him. Just as he turned the page to start again, the sleigh bells on the front door jingled again. “Oh for crying out loud!”

The loud crunching of snow under thick heavy boots and the jingling of light bracelets made the arrival of two people who would most liking be joining the impromptu party.

Scott slapped his forehead. He did not want to have to put up with any more sass tonight. The only thing he could do was hope and pray that neither one had been drinking.

Jean popped into his head and thought *Oh please, who do you think your thinking about.*

*Oh fine. Maybe Logan won’t smell like a brewery this time. At least Ororo will have more smarts than that.*

Jean laughed nervously.

Before the couple made it from the foyer into the living room, the crowd had to put up with low growling, and giggling. There was a “Logan! [giggle giggle] We have yet to get completely inside.” The prompt response was a gravelly, “Ya mean, I have yet to come completely inside, baby girl. If ya keep movin’ around like that, it’ll happen sooner than ya think.” More giggles. Then came the sound of a sharp slap of a plump backside.

The ladies of the crowd blushed. Jean covered her children’s ears and did what she could to hide her own crimson cheeks. Scott threw up a little in his mouth and was forced to swallow it, while the two boys high fived and nodded their approval at the smoothness they hoped to one day achieve.

“Alright you two,” Scott shouted, “my esophagus can only take so much. Either get a room or get out!”

Ororo poked her head in and was a bit taken back. Her evening outfit of a chiffon animal print top with a black a-line skirt and knee high black high heeled boots looked as if she should have been nearly frozen solid, but of course she was not. As usual she looked as if she stepped right off a runway. Especially with that hair. Jean never understood that. How did she keep doing that? She got over the “always looking good thing,” but the hair. Why did it always manage to keep its body? There was no way that she could control the winds to a point were they wouldn’t effect her hair, could she?

*I wouldn’t be surprised if she could. Now can I have your attention, please,* Scott asked.

“What is all of this,” Ororo asked.

Nate perked up immediately. He always did whenever she came into a room. Everyone knew about his crush on his Aunty Ro, except of course the person in question. He’d only behave on a regular basis when she was around. “Aunty Roro, we’re reading a story. Why don’t you stay, please?” Rachel made kissing noises and faces behind his back. Before he could turn around and punch her, his mother and telekinetically separated them.

Jean sighed in frustration, “Yes Ro, please please join us.”

“No that’s ok Ro,” Scott said, “I’m sure you have other things to do…oh god,” as he finished he could feel the bile resurface. The mental image of a naked, short, feral, and extremely hairy man was far too much. He lurched again, and held one finger up to stop the conversation.

Ororo leaned on her hip to wait for him to finish his antics. They were not funny! Logan could smell the mood change in his lady and came to stand next to her with a hand on her waist that slowly began to work its way down. She looked at him and he shrugged.

“Scooter.”

“Logan.”

Not liking the casual dismissal, Logan decided to tease and leave a mark. “What did you say earlier? Get a room, right? This looks like a nice room. Big too, right love.”

Ororo knew exactly what he was up to and the consumed liquor from earlier loosed her up and made her far too susceptible to naughty antics. “You need a big room too, do you not?”

“Mmn, I’m feeling a little stretched out.” The room was alive with groans and snickers again.

“Logan!”

“Oh hey, Jean. I didn’t even see ya there.” He said without even looking at her while he pushed Ororo to a comfortable love seat right under a window. He crossed right in front of Scott and left a present on the winds.

While they snuggled up together under a red afghan and looked so very comfortable, Jean looked at her husband. *What did I tell you! He didn’t even see me.*

“Look all I want to do…What the he- - Logan, did you have to fart in my face?”

“Yep.”

Ororo shifted in her position of using her lover’s torso as a pillow and turned around so that no one could her giggle, but everyone heard the very unlady like snort. She turned back around and covered Logan’s mouth to stop him from saying anything else.

“I am so sorry, Scott. We promise to behave.”

Logan pouted at her, but settled in.

Scott ignored the annoying and creepy lovey dovey acts coming from Logan and Ororo and did his best to continue with the story. Granted, the hot chocolate did feel nice on his raw throat. Despite the new onslaught of interruptions, he wanted to show his children what happened next.

~X~

Claire moved aside to let Herr Drosselmeyer in. His chocolate colored wicker chair that he moved in was surprisingly mobile. Of course the tall and devilishly handsome young man who pushed him made it all look easy.

Of course as the night went on, the fruit punch and eggnog consumed made events and conversations slow down to a dull roar. Marie was fighting of heavy eyelids. For the first time she was thankful that Fritz was keeping things lively.

Right before she was going to turn herself in for the night, Uncle Drosselyer had called everyone into the main room to present his gifts for the family. All the guest new about his extravagant and often eccentric ways, so everyone quietly gathered. Claire’s parents came running as if they too were children, and even Fritz stopped misbehaving and held still long enough to give his Uncle his full attention.

“First and foremost I want to introduce you all to something very special. Claire and Fritz I need your help for a minute. Elizabeth, you don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not.”

The two children rushed to his side gasped as he motioned to a humongous ornate box.

“Children, help Monsieur Lebeau move the box to the center of the floor, and listen to him when he has you open. Yes Fritz, I am talking to you.”

The younger man just blew air, but did go to help. Clair held back a bit taken back by the box taller than she, and by the young man who was beginning to unlock it. He turned to see her standing there looking she and pointed at a lock that was very near her.

“Excuse me, ma petite, but I do need a little bit of help with these.”

“Yea, Claire. Stop standing there and do something,” Fritz scolded.

“Aw come now, she’s just scared of a giant box that needs twenty-two dead bolts. I would be too, if I didn’t know what was inside.”

Claire blushed as he winked at her.

“When all is said and done, would you mind dancing with me, ma belle?”

All she could do was smile at this charming stranger.

When the last two locks were taken down, Claire could distinctly hear the sounds of winding gears, and bells. It was a sweet and warm sound. She felt comforted. Memories of being wrapped in her mother’s embrace with her violet hair tickling her nose or sitting in her father’s chair came back in a rush. She was suddenly in a hurry to open this box.

The whole room was silent and still as the door fell open and became a ramp. Drosselmeyer nodded to his assistant to go inside the dark opening. When he came out he was carrying, what looked to be a very stiff person, vertically in his arms. When he placed the person in the clearing of the floor, Claire saw that she was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen.

The person was a very tall woman. She appeared to be a ballerina. A dark-skinned dancer dressed in a corset covered in snowy lace and pearls. The skirt dipped a little below her knees and gleamed in shades iridescent blue. Her long arms were festooned in patterns that glittered with a material that Clair couldn’t place. Her hair was full and thick in a complicated style adorned with ivory combs and bejeweled pins. The most spectacular thing about her was her hair. It was a beautiful pristine white. Whiter than the streak Claire always pushed behind her eyes. Like untouched snow in a clear field. It was curled and flowed majestically around the items carefully placed in it. The life size doll’s hair was a stark contrast to her skin tone, but it made her look royal and fierce while she still maintained the grace of a dancer. Even while on her toes and her arms arched high above her, this exotic maiden gave off an air of wonder and allure. Claire walked around to face and found a tilted soft face with closed eyes. The snowy eyebrows were relaxed and still.

Suddenly there was a click, and Claire was looking at the widest bluest eyes she had ever seen.

Fritz pulled her back outside of the circle and into the crowd.

The crowd watched the mystical life-size doll dance a flawless dance of agility and grace. Her hands were always held together as if she was holding something. That’s when Claire finally saw it. In her hands was what looked to be a larger than usual toy solider, but it was made of wood. The bight red coat told of its English make and the replica scale sword looked to be made of actual steel. Even the small musket strapped to his back looked as if it could shoot.

The dancer cradled the toy solider brought her arms down and did a slow pirouette. As she came to rest, she looked as if she forgot about the dance and the crowd, and she simply ran her fingers all around the smaller doll. It was if she was looking for something or perhaps she forgot it. Her head tilted to the side as if she didn’t understand. She then brought it to her heart. The scene looked parallel like a mother holding a sleeping child or very much like a lover’s last embrace. The crowd was silent again, completely spellbound.

When all was still again, Claire finally was able to look at the doll that the dancer held in her hands. It was a fancy toy nutcracker. Claire was confused again. The smaller doll was by no means new. The face was worn down and the nose looked as if it had been broken and repaired several times. There were scars in the face and buttons were
missing of the coat. Despite the damage the warrior looked functional and proud. He had obviously been around for a long time.

Fritz nudged his sister had in her stomach because he caught her staring again. She looked so odd staring there while everyone else was applauding. With the party drawing to a close, the party going slowly began to filter out. Fritz did not want to waste time getting the last of his jollies.

Drosselmeyer saw to it that the life-size doll was put back, but not before extracting the nutcracker.

In front of their parent’s and close family friends Drosselmeyer presented the two Staulbaum children with the first two toys he ever made.

“To my boy Fritz, I give you, The Mouse King.” He handed the young man a furry glaring life-like rat, the size of a forearm, raped in purple plush robe and a glittering crown holding an imperial staff. It looked dreadfully realistic.

Fritz was absolutely enamored.

“And to Claire,” he continued, “I give you the very first toy I ever made. I was your age actually.” Fritz was about to say something smart, but his sister’s foot stomped on his.

Dosselmeyer handed Claire a wrapped bundle. When she pulled the simple tie she was amazed just as her brother was. Her uncle had given her the precious Nutcracker.

“Alright children,” Elizabeth said. “The time for you to go has passed. To sleep with you, or no Christmas presents in the morning. And peeking either!”

“Yes, my niece and nephew. Let your dreams take you to places your eyes will never see while open.”

Fritz dashed up the stairs to his bedroom as quickly as he could. Not to be a good boy, oh no. Claire saw that evil grin he had when he ran by her. She new he’d sneak downstairs to sneak in those presents, and she planned on cutting him off early when everyone else had gone.

This year she wouldn’t be alone in doing so either. She would have company. She would have her Nutcracker Prince.