Диана Дуэйн - How Lovely Are Thy Branches

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“We’ll see what you think by this time tomorrow.”

They headed into the dining room. The table was covered silverware and napkins and cups and glasses, and a whole lot of food. Some of it was local—Nita immediately recognized Kit’s mama’s buffalo wings and the little deviled-egg and cream cheese and chilli hors d’oeuvres that she liked to do on crackers. But the rest was covered with human and alien-biology delicacies from the Crossings, everything carefully labeled. Nita made a private resolution to get back here as soon as she could and check out the details, as some of the food looked familiar, and if she didn’t move fast, Kit would shovel it all down his face before she got a chance.

“Come on, Fil,” Nita said, “come meet Kit’s pop and mama!” She pulled him around into the living room, having caught a glimpse of them in there through the passthrough; they were hanging a last few garlands up near the ceiling.

Nita pulled Filif over to them. “So here’s the guest of honor!” Nita said. “Juan Rodriguez,” Nita said, “Marina Rodriguez, this is Filifermanhathrhumneits’elhessaiffnth.”

Kit’s pop’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything Nita immediately added, “Everybody calls him Filif, so don’t even bother trying to pronounce the long version. It always takes me a couple of days to even remember how.”

“Estimable senior cousins,” Filif said, bowing, “thank you for your welcome.” And then he straightened up and offered Kit’s pop a long branch, and his mama another.

They both stared at these for a moment, and then took them. “Nice to meet you, Filif,” said Kit’s pop. “So nice!” said his mama.

“A pleasure on my part as well! I’m very excited about what’s going to happen.”

“Well, we’re excited to have you! And we’re glad you’re here finally,” said Kit’s pop. “It’s been so strange not having a tree already. It’s felt almost unnatural. But we’re good now.” He beamed at Filif. “You’re what… six feet easily, I’d say!”

Filif thought about that for a moment. “Yes, I’d say so,” he said. “And about five feet in diameter at the base.”

“It’s going to be unusual to have a Christmas tree that’s so cooperative,” said Kit’s pop. “But look, you should enjoy the party for a while first! We like to let it get good and dark before we start decorating… it’s more impressive, then, when the lights go on.”

“That’s fine,” Filif said. “What do you normally do at this point with a… locally acquired tree?”

“Well, first of all unwrap it outside — normally you bring it home wrapped up in webbing so the branches don’t get hurt. And after that, leave it outside for a little while to let it relax and help the branches find their right shape again.”

Filif rustled a little in agreement. “It makes sense,” he said. “If you like, perhaps I’ll go stand outside for a bit and get myself acclimatized.”

“Uh… won’t the neighbors see you?”

“Not at all,” said Filif. “Nita handled it when we came in, but I’m as good at being invisible as any other wizard There are lots of ways to do it. Once I stop moving, they’ll see a wrapped up tree sitting leaning against the side of your garage while you get the room ready.”

“There’s zero need for that,” said another voice. It was Dairine, wandering in out of the living room. She was in a long green silky top and darker green floppy pants, something Wellakhit if Nita was any judge. “Sker’ did a smart thing and shielded the whole back yard. The front’s open, but he did a selective visual wizardry with the windows: nobody human will be able to see any of the non-Solars through it, and the filter spoofs anything unaffected so it can’t be seen either.”

“Probably that’s a good idea,” said Kit’s mama. “Especially lately… Well, come on, Filif, what do you like to eat or drink? Or do you want to wait till you’ve come back in?”

“I think Sker’ret will have brought some rooting compound for me,” Filif said. “It’s what I’ll be standing in while decorated.” He shivered again, that excited gesture.

“It’s in the dedicated corner already,” came Sker’ret’s voice from the kitchen. “A big pot of that acid stuff you like, Fil.” And in came Sker’ret, apparently after a visit to one of the storage closets in the back of the house. He was walking on only a few pairs of legs, and with all the others he was carefully holding three other piles of serving plates above his upper carapace.

Nita had to turn and stare, fascinated. “I didn’t even know your legs hinged like that!” she called after him.

“Apparently they do,” said Sker’ret, and kept on going into the dining room.

“Where’s Kit?” Nita said.

“He’s upstairs changing,” Carmela said as she came wandering into the living room from the back of the house. She looked very much the Christmas hostess in a glittery red tunic top and red-and-white leggings with a very subdued candy-cane pattern on them, and low red boots to complete the effect.

“Fashion plate,” Nita said as Carmela grabbed Filif and hugged him, half vanishing into his branches and making some of his berry-eyes on either side of her pop a little.

“Yes, well, with such a special occasion you have to make a little effort,” Carmela said. “Kit’s doing his best but I don’t know if it’s going to be enough…”

Footsteps were coming down the stairs. “I heard that!” said Kit’s voice. “Just because some people can’t manage to find themselves a genuine collectors’ item like this…”

Kit came down into the living room, turning toward the group gathered there, his mouth open… and then stopped dead.

“Oh no,” Nita said, and started gasping with laughter. “Oh no!” Because Kit was wearing black jeans and sneakers and a ridiculous hairy angora-knit crewnecked construction adorned with fake Icelandic patterns in red and white, and scattered all over with revolting embroidered green yarn Christmas trees with little sewn-on Mylar ornaments.

They stood there in shock, staring at each other as Kit’s mama and pop burst out laughing in unison. “You look like the Bobbsey Twins,” Kit’s mama said.

“Who?” said Kit and Nita in unison.

Mrs. Rodriguez threw a glance at her husband, then gazed briefly at the ceiling as if begging for help from some unseen source. “Generation gap,” she said. “Never mind.” She headed for the kitchen.

“I didn’t mean for you to buy it,” Kit said, “I meant for you not to buy it! So I’d be the only one having it.”

“Emailing me pictures of the thing was no way to get me not to buy it!” Nita said. “What am I, six?”

Dairine pushed past her toward the dining room, snickering. “No better than eight on a good day,” she said.

“Whatever you do,” said an Irish voice from that direction, “don’t change. Don’t either of you dare change.”

Nita turned. There, leaning in the dining room doorway, having apparently just arrived, was Ronan. He was in black, as usual… but for a change, surprisingly formal blacks. Trousers instead of jeans, shiny black brogues instead of goth boots, a very slim-fitting black shirt with black glitters in it, and to top everything off, a Santa hat in white and black.

Nita burst out laughing. “What are you supposed to be, some kind of dark ‘jolly old elf?’”

Ronan waggled his eyebrows. “Other people can worry about who’s nice. I prefer to concentrate on the naughty.”

“I don’t even want to know,” said Kit’s mama as she came back into the room with a tray full of glasses of hot cider. “Nita?”