"You will not win without a fight." Geneva Carson jammed the end of the flashlight into the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and started to climb.

Meee-owwwww. The matted, long-haired calico studied Geneva through half-closed lids, looking way down. Its eyes shone like yellow mirrors, caught in the light's beam. With a blink, it bounded to a higher branch, clearly visible amidst the thinning leaves of fall.

"Come on, you silly little thing." She shook her head. Unbelievable. Talking to a cat instead of getting ready for work.

She directed the flashlight beam into the cottonwood limbs high off the ground. "Here, kitty, kitty."

I jumped right in, didn't I, Lord, without taking the time to ask for help, as usual.

She called herself nuts, but it sure was fun to be climbing a tree after so many years. She found her balance on a sturdy limb and continued to climb.

What would her daughter say if she saw this fiasco? Moselle would have a fit at such foolishness. Geneva pulled out the flashlight to make sure the quarry remained in sight. "You are not going to keep making that sad racket ... And quit climbing higher," she informed the stray cat.

She looked down while attempting to secure the flashlight again. Uh-oh. Oooo, I've done it up good this time. Geneva swallowed. A big gulp that got caught somewhere on its way down. Her knees wavered at the realization of just how high she had climbed. She was a good twenty feet off the ground.

"Geneva, what in the world are you doing in that tree?" her sister yelled from the back door.

"Good question, Lanae," she answered through the branches. "And I've got a good answer. A cat."

I may be fifty years old, but so impetuous I'm high in a tree?

Her nerveless fingers let go and the flashlight tumbled to the ground. Then she took a death grip on the nearest limb. "Uh, Sis? I think I'm in trouble."

"I think you're right. I'm calling nine-one-one."

"Don't bother. Call —" The door slammed.

"Now you've done it, cat. I wanted her to call Eric. I can hear the sirens already."

The words were seconds out of her mouth when a wail blew from the Platteville Volunteer Fire Station downtown. She scrunched her eyes shut, hoping it was all a wild dream. When she opened them, she got scared. What if I fall?

She could find herself in the hospital and where would that leave Frivolities? Her brand-new business would go belly-up. God had presented the idea for the fanciful Frivolities to her and her sister. Geneva was determined to make it work, especially with Lanae battling hepatitis C and Moselle on the brink of marriage. What timing.

At the thought of her daughter, Geneva said a subconscious prayer that Moselle's fiancé, Eric, would be the fireman coming to her rescue.

Get a grip, woman, and act your age.

The sirens drew close. She soon heard activity below, but she kept her eyes clamped shut.

"Hold on, Ms. Carson. Don't be scared," a disembodied voice that didn't belong to her future son-in-law spoke from below. "Just hold on."

"I assure you, I'm too scared to let go." Geneva's voice quivered. But she couldn't help smiling at her predicament.

The extension ladder whirred softly and creaked as it reached for the top branches of the tree.

She squeezed her eyes tighter.

"I'm right behind you now."

"Thank you, Lord."

"Not God, just me." The firefighter chuckled.

Her eyes popped open when she felt him close behind. Thankful for the cropped-pajama bottoms she wore instead