Dining Area/Bar

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Oh bring us some figgy pudding, oh bring us some figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer! Hungry? Thirsty? Whether you want a full Christmas feast, or a cup of spiced eggnog, you can find whatever you may have a hankering for here at either the dining room or the adjoining bar. Happy feasting!

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ooc: Olive and Gabriel BiC:

Olive Degarmo

To be honest, Olive had never been here, but beneath the spools of garland and twinkling lights, she could imagine it looked quite different in its natural, skeletal form. It was probably just as opulent, just as lavish, but not nearly as festive. And Olive liked the Christmas festivities. They reminded her of home, of bundling up in front of the fire and strolling through the town to sing carols. They reminded her of eating cookies she didn’t know how to make and wrapping presents. They reminded her of all of those comfortable things that the holiday season brought about: love, family, tradition. But this year was different. This year, her mother and father were getting their house fumigated, one of her sisters had the flu, the other one out of the country for work, and another had a broken car. So Olive was here at a communal Christmas event instead of at home with those that she loved. Christmas at home would have to wait.

“A poinsettia, please,” she asked the bartender as she eased herself onto a barstool, unsure what exactly to do with herself. It was Christmas. She should have been mingling and handing out cups of cheer or kissing under the mistletoe or something. But instead, she people-watched and sipped her champagne and cranberry juice and absently hummed along to the Christmas carols that echoed throughout the old building, soaring above even the chatty crowd.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulder and wondered what it was her family was doing now.

[The Exodus]

Gabriel Fontaine

Gabriel spun around the dance floor. He held his dance partner lightly and smiled. Around them, white lights twinkled and music soared through the air like four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves and a partridge sans pear tree.

“You really do look great,” Gabriel said.

His partner looked at him with skeptical brown eyes. These eyes were the same ones that so often said, “Don’t say a word” during early morning coffee sessions. Eyes that betrayed amusement, even when there was no smile to match. Eyes Gabriel had learned to read over the years.

“I’m serious,” said Gabriel. “I’m the luckiest man in the room, getting to dance with you. For a minute, I was worried you’d say ‘no’ when I asked.”

“I never tell you ‘no’,” his partner said. “I know better than that.”

“Too right you are,” Gabriel said, laughing. “I’m afraid I don’t handle rejection well.”

“It runs in the family,” a third voice chimed in. A soft hand fell on Gabriel’s shoulder. He and his partner stopped dancing.

“That it does, my dear sister,” Gabriel said, taking one of Gwen’s hands and joining it with Torben’s. “I suppose I should return your husband to you?”

Every year at Christmastime, Gabriel stole Torben away for one dance. It was a tradition started only God-knew-how-many-years-ago. Usually, it was at a big, festive to-do. They’d pretend to sneak off and wait for Gwen to catch up to them and “steal” Torben back. One year, they’d played the game in Gwen’s apartment and in order to escape “being caught”, Gabriel had waltzed Torben out into the streets of Paris until both their hands got numb with cold and they returned to find Gwen, doubled-over in laughter on the steps that led up into her building. Usually, Sophie was home and served as a distraction for Gwen or as her dance partner so “Aunt Gwen doesn’t feel left out!” But this year, Sophie was in Marseilles for Christmas Eve and Gabriel hadn’t a clue what had taken Gwen so long to find him and Torben. They’d waltzed, tangoed, and failed dismally at a foxtrot before Gwen found them this year. Gabriel could only assume she’d snuck off to the party’s kitchen to sneak a peek of tonight’s dinner. Now, he watched Gwen and Torben take each other in their arms and return to the dance floor.

Usually, Gabriel watched Gwen and Torben take to the dance floor, feeling light and happy for his sister. Usually, Sophie would be with him, leaning on his arm.

“They’re going to love each other until they’re dust, daddy,” Sophie said once. She was eleven and full of romantic notions. She sighed happily, watching them with her big, dark eyes.

“Even longer,” Gabriel had responded, nuzzling the top of her head.

But this year, there was no Sophie. She was in Marseilles and wouldn’t be in Paris until late tomorrow morning. She’d stay in Paris with Gabriel and Gwendoline and Torben until she had to go back to school. But until then, Gabriel was left alone, watching his sister and brother-in-law as they held each other without looking back.

A sharp pain of longing sliced through Gabriel’s chest. He didn’t want either of them. Not Gwen, not Torben. He just wanted his girl—his family—to be back as it was when everyone was happy. He just wanted to be with someone who mattered and who made him feel like he mattered. It was a bit silly to think like that. Of course Gwen and Torben mattered; of course Gabriel mattered to them. But not in this moment. In the moment, it was just Gwen and Torben on that dance floor and Gabriel in a sea of strangers. And usually, Gabriel didn’t mind being alone. But being lonely was a different thing altogether. He stared at the dance floor until Gwen and Torben disappeared in the throngs of people. And then Gabriel made his way out of the ballroom and headed towards the bar.

He didn’t want to be that guy: the one who drowned his sorrows in alcohol. But he was here, the drinks were free, and it would be no more than an hour before Gwen came looking for him. He’d give his sister and Torben their space. If anyone deserved it, it was the pair of them. And in the meantime, Gabriel would nurse a glass of rum. He cast his gaze around the bar, searching the area for familiar faces. Finding none, he returned to his drink.

It was only ten o’clock. Christina and Sophie were probably sitting underneath a Christmas tree right now. Gabriel had seen Christina’s new house a handful of times. He imagined she’d put the tree in the foyer. It was likely that Signor Rossi had come up from Italy and had taken over the making of Christmas dinner. Hand-made pastas, desserts crafted from mascarpone cheese… Sophie would be spoiled by her nonno tonight and that was something of a comfort. No doubt Gabriel’s former father-in-law and mentor had brought brightly wrapped presents and his whole arsenal of Italian home cooking. At least Sophie was being taken care of.

Even still, a Christmas with the Rossis could not compare to a Christmas with the Fontaine-Blaus. Their Christmas tree was this scraggly looking thing, topped by a golden skull that the branches somehow managed to support every year—no matter how tiny they were. The ornaments were a mixture of the weird and the wonderful. Broken factory-rejects hung beside intact antiques and handcrafted baubles that Sophie had made over the years. It was a hodgepodge, no doubt, but so were they.

Gabriel got so tangled up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed a woman sit down on the barstool beside him. He looked over and a smile wriggled onto his lips. At first, he didn’t recognize the woman at his side. She was in a curve-hugging gown with a fur thing wrapped around her shoulders. The dress itself shimmered under the Christmas lights. Her dark hair rested against the white fur and made her skin look like the meaty part of a peach.

And then it dawned on him: he knew her. Olive Degarmo had taught Gabriel everything he knew about classical music. Admittedly, he didn’t know a lot about classical music, but she’d saved his hide when he desperately needed to impress Sophie. She’d even let him sit in on one of her classes. How could this glamorous woman be the same one who spoke softly to ten year olds?

“Mademoiselle Degarmo,” Gabriel said, not bothering to disguise the surprise in his voice. “Fancy running into you here.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Olive Degarmo

It’d been a long time since Olive had been to an actual Christmas party. The most recent memory she had of a tinsel-decorated venue with waiters and a guest list was eleven years ago when she released her Christmas album. Thousands of people that Olive didn’t know gathered round her, flashing cameras in her face, pushing little scraps into her hand as she smiled and graciously signed them. After dinner with the few people there she knew, she performed select tracks from her album and every one would go home feeling a little better. But this party was nothing like that, which she supposed was simultaneously a good and a bad thing. She knew no one, not even a small handful of comrades accompanied her tonight, but at least she didn’t get hand cramps from squiggling her name into the marginalia of pictures of her.

She leaned against the bar, her drink abandoned as she doodled on the dark maple wood with her finger. There were very few more verses of The Twelve Days of Christmas Olive could remember anyways and she considered the merits of simply returning home and grading papers or practicing her accompanying skills in preparation for her student’s Christmas concert. Perhaps it would be better to have a silent night at home than a noisy one with strangers.

But as she gathered her things together and finished off her drink, she heard her name from somewhere to her right. “Mademoiselle Degarmo,” she turned to the source to find the man she met in the library talking to her. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Well if it isn’t my star student!” she said with a smile. “How are you, Gabriel? What brings you here?”

[The Exodus]

Gabriel Fontaine

At once, Olive recognized Gabriel. Her big, blue eyes sparked with recognition as if she were meeting an old friend for the first time in years, as opposed to a new acquaintance after only a few weeks. Gabriel couldn’t help but to grin. Coming to the bar hadn’t been such a terrible idea, after all.

“Well if it isn’t my star student!” Olive said wryly.

It was only then that Gabriel noticed—to his slight disappointment—that Olive seemed intent on leaving. She clutched her bag in one hand and before her sat an emptied champagne flute. Gabriel could only imagine a million other people she was rushing off to talk to: colleagues, friends, family…

“How are you, Gabriel?” asked Olive. “What brings you here?”

“Christmas, of course!” Gabriel said cheerfully. He didn’t want to bog conversation down by telling Olive that he was here because his daughter was across the country and his sister and brother-in-law were off only God knew where by now. “How about you? It seems I caught you at a bad time…”

He nodded towards Olive’s gathered belongings. It was too bad she was in such a rush to be somewhere else; Gabriel would have gladly bought her a drink.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Olive Degarmo

Olive very vividly remembered bringing Gabriel into her classroom. Prosper Brel raised his hand and asked “Mademoiselle Degarmo, is this your son?” Olive had to laugh. “Goodness no! How old do you think I am, Prosper?” It had been an interesting experience, having Gabriel in class and it had her distracted. Not only as she taught, but after she had packed her things away and shut off the light. As she pulled into her drive, as she climbed into bed, and even as she woke up, she thought about Gabriel Fontaine, sitting at her desk in the back of the classroom, spinning almost aimlessly in that black chair, playing absently with the baubles and misplaced pieces that lay scattered on her desk.

She thought about it until very recently when the memory faded away into resigned oblivion. It faded away until now, when he sat here beside her with that wide, childlike grin on his face.

“Christmas, of course!” he said, his eyes lighting up to remind her that it was, indeed, Christmas. “How about you? It seems I caught you at a bad time…”

Olive followed his suddenly saddened gaze to her gathered belongings. “Not at all!” she said, putting them down on the bar. “I was going to leave because I didn’t know anybody here. But now,” she signaled to him, “it seems that I do. And thank goodness, too.” She swiveled the best she could in her curve-caressing dress to face him. “Can I buy you a drink, Gabriel? Or are you waiting for someone?”

Beneath her fury shawl, she crossed her fingers that he wasn’t.

[The Exodus]

Gabriel Fontaine

Gabriel felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t spoken to Olive since the day she let him shadow her at the school. To be fair, Gabriel had been rather busy. Three days after shadowing Olive, Gabriel received a phone call from L’Tour d’Argent, accepting him as their chef tournant. Some nights, he worked rotisserie, other nights he helped with vegetables or sauces or fried items. He had yet to be put with the resident pastry chef though. Probably for insurance reasons. At any rate, the past few weeks had been spent adjusting to his new job and emailing his a lawyer to find out if this gig could help him negotiate custody terms with Cristina.

And the longer he’d gone without contacting the Olive, the more opportunity slipped away. Gabriel hated networking. Truly, he did. It all seemed like sucking up and sycophantism to him. But he loved making friends and spending time with interesting people. And Olive was interesting. She was smart—smarter than Gabriel, anyways, at least about music—and she was kind.

Never mind Sophie had yelled at him for not contacting Olive.

“Where did you learn all this about Beethoven, Papa?” Sophie asked as they left the theatre for dinner. Gabriel grinned and shrugged.

“A friend of mine,” he said, hoping to sound mysterious.

“Uncle Torben?” Sophie asked flatly.

“No,” said Gabriel. “I have other friends.”

Sophie pursed her lips, but said nothing. She looked a lot like Gwen when she did that, actually.

“I do,” Gabriel insisted. “Her name is Olive. Olive Degarmo and she’s a music teacher—“

But Gabriel’s words were drowned out by this horrid shrieking sound. It took him a second to realize it was his daughter. Immediately, a flurry of “Are you all right?” and “Sophie!” streamed out of his mouth.

“Olive Degarmo?!” Sophie said when she was speaking. Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. Gabriel stared at her. “The Olive Degarmo?!”

Gabriel stared. “I think she just prefers being called, “Olive”, Sophie.”

“Did you get her autograph, Papa?” said Sophie. “Tell me you got her autograph.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because she’s wonderful! And talented and… You didn’t get it, did you?”

“Mon cherie, if I got the autograph of every person I thought was wonderful and talented, I would have a collection of signatures and no friends.”

“But—Papa! You will see her again? Promise me you will see her again?”

"I don't know," Gabriel said truthfully.

They reached the restaurant and Sophie dropped the issue of Olive’s autograph. Although she had been rather moody, picking at her food in ways the daughter of a chef did not do anywhere except an imported fast food restaurant. Clearly, Olive mattered quite a lot to Sophie. Quite a lot to Gabriel, but for other reasons. He didn’t bother to find out why Sophie cared so much, in case he met Olive again. He didn’t want Sophie’s reaction to taint his budding friendship with the music teacher.

Besides, it would give him something to ask Olive about later. He asked if it was a bad time.

“Not at all!” Olive said, setting her belongings back down on the bar. “I was going to leave because I didn’t know anybody here. But now,” she signaled to him, “it seems that I do. And thank goodness, too.”

Gabriel smiled at her. Olive swiveled in her barstool to face him. Christmas lights bounced off her dress, momentarily dazzling Gabriel’s eyes.



“Can I buy you a drink, Gabriel? Or are you waiting for someone?”

It didn’t matter that technically he was waiting for Torben and Gwen. It would be ages until the two of them were ready to find Gabriel. Knowing them, they’d probably end up entangled underneath mistletoe somewhere or else harmlessly pranking the stiffs that attended these sort of things. Gabriel shook his head.

“Allow me. I owe you at least a drink for what you did for me the other day,” he said, flagging down the bartender. “What’ll you have?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Olive Degarmo

The stars seemed to be smiling on Olive tonight at Gabriel shook his head. He wasn’t waiting for anyone. It was a Christmas miracle. A handsome, charismatic man like Gabriel was surely a popular man, and Olive found it odd that he would be here alone. Where was his daughter? His family? His friends? Curious as she was, it really was none of Olive’s business and she was just thankful that he wanted to spend a brief moment with her.

“Allow me. I owe you at least a drink for what you did for me the other day,” Gabriel said, flagging down the bartender with a casual wave of his hand.

“No, really—“ Olive tried, having just had a drink and not believing Gabriel owed her anything, but Gabriel would have none of it.

“What’ll you have?”

“Oh what, the hell.” She shrugged with a laugh. “It’s the holidays. Surprise me!” she trusted Gabriel not to spike her drink, not to get her something disgusting, not to get her wasted. “Do you have any plans for the holidays, Gabriel?” she asked, not sure what she was hoping he’d say. Hers were unceremoniously slashed to pieces by now. Perhaps, his schedule willing, she could invite him and his daughter over for a small, quiet dinner. Nothing big, nothing flashy—her house wasn’t even decorated—but a quaint Christmas meal with friends.

Or perhaps that was all wishful thinking. Why would Gabriel, a surely busy man, want to spend his holidays with a near stranger?

Olive took a slow, deep, almost painful breath. She needed to stop. She needed to quiet her brain and live in the moment. Whatever happens would happen and it was beyond Olive’s and any Christmas magic’s control.

[The Exodus]

Gabriel Fontaine

Olive reluctantly agreed to let Gabriel buy her a drink. Gabriel’s smile turned into a grin. He wasn’t going to worry about why Olive had hesitated. Not right now, anyways. He was glad for her company and glad to buy her a drink.

“Oh what, the hell.” She shrugged with a laugh. “It’s the holidays. Surprise me!”

There were two things you didn’t say to Gabriel Fontaine: “You can’t do that” and “Surprise me!” Both gave him absolute free reign to do whatever the hell he wanted, naysayers be damned. He wondered if Olive would regret telling him to surprise her.

There was only one way to find out.

Gabriel beckoned for the bartender to lean close. The man looked apprehensive but obliged. Gabriel whispered into his ear, asking after a certain, imported spirit. To his dismay, the bartender shook his head. Thwarted momentarily, Gabriel sighed. He had yet to find a French approximation. French wines were in a class separate from all other alcohols, but there truly was nothing that said “Christmas” like a bottle of Austrian Advocaat. Torben always brought out the good stuff—the sweet, dessert-like drink—at the end of Christmas dinner. Gabriel supposed that was one tradition he couldn’t share tonight. And one he would have to wait for until tomorrow. Gabriel thought and then beckoned the bartender again to whisper the name of a different spirit in his ear. The man hesitated and then a whisper of a smile flickered onto the man’s lips. Gabriel grinned back and pressed a couple bills into the man’s hand before the bartender disappeared into the back room.

“You’ll appreciate this,” Gabriel assured her with a wink.

He’d considered a myriad of different drinks he’d tried during the two years he’d travelled the entire continent. And he’d tried everything. In those days, Gabriel had been young and his liver forgiving. His intestinal tract, too, and metabolism because he’d eaten everything he could take a bite out of on that long trip and he looked much the same then as he did now. His palate had taken abuse—the kind of abuse it shouldn’t have recovered from, but somehow had—because when Gabriel said he tried “everything”, he meant it. The good, the bad, the inedible. Olive was crazy for trusting him.

“Do you have any plans for the holidays, Gabriel?”

“Tonight, I plan to share a few drinks with this lovely woman I know,” he said, inclining his head towards her. “But tomorrow, I’m due to spend the day with another young lady, who is coming in from Marseilles just to see me. Well, me, her aunt and her uncle.”

Sophie’s arrival to Paris this holiday season would be marked with much fanfare. Gabriel and Gwen already had meats roasting in the oven tonight and desserts chilling in the refrigerator. The apartment glittered and glowed and smelled like butter and cinnamon. The presents were stacked up under the tree and wrapped in bright colors that clashed with Torben’s otherwise gothic décor. They would sing and celebrate and feast, all the while pretending that the day after New Year’s wouldn’t come and Sophie could just stay with them in Paris for all eternity.

“How about you?” Gabriel asked. “Any big plans?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Olive Degarmo

“Tonight,” Gabriel said in that suave tone that made Olive smile. ”I plan to share a few drinks with this lovely woman I know.”

Olive blushed, looking at her lap coyly when she realized he meant her. Her? Lovely? She hadn’t been called ‘lovely’ in years. She was a fallen superstar, a singing sensation that had now grown silent, dead to the world and any fan base she had cultivated. On her wall were dusty gold and platinum records, on her shelves were forgotten and discarded awards. Her study was a shrine for her exhausted career, sitting in suspended animation. She was like a singing Miss Havisham, huddled away, clinging to the vestiges of a life she once had. Hardly ‘lovely’ anymore, if described at all. Gabriel would never know what the compliment meant to her, and how long she would clutch it to her heart.

She looked up once more, in rapt fascination when he continued talking. “But tomorrow, I’m due to spend the day with another young lady, who is coming in from Marseilles just to see me. Well, me, her aunt and her uncle.”

Olive smiled. He must have meant his daughter by the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about her. It was really beautiful that he loved her that much and that they got to spend the day together. She loved kids and she was sure, if Gabriel was any indication, that his daughter was a charming young woman.

“How about you? Any big plans?”

Olive shrugged. “I had planned on going Fontainebleau this Christmas to visit my family,” she said, skating her finger around the lip of the glass that had just arrived before her “but plan that was thwarted because my parents are getting their house fumigated and my sisters made other plans. So I might go caroling or something. I’m not sure yet. Something small and quiet, you know?”

She lifted her glass. “We should toast to something. It is Christmas, after all.”

[The Exodus]

Gabriel Fontaine

If there was no Advocaat to be drunk, Gabriel and Olive would have the second best thing. Mulled wine, with its aromatic spices tasted like Christmas in a cup. The barkeep set two glasses between Olive and Gabriel and already, Gabriel could smell the cinnamon and cloves, rising up to meet his nostrils. He smiled over at Olive, who merely shrugged.

“I had planned on going to Fontainebleau this Christmas to visit my family,” she said once the bartender was out of earshot. “But that plan was thwarted because my parents are getting their house fumigated and my sisters made other plans.”

Gabriel stared at Olive. He hadn’t spent a Christmas with his parents since the one, disastrous year he and Gwen tried to cram the Fontaines, the Blaus, and the Rossis underneath the same roof. Since then—and, come to think of it, most Christmases before that ill-fated holiday—Georges and Genevieve spent Christmas abroad. They were important film icons and were often on location. Otherwise, vacation from filming. This year, they were in the Balkans. But Gabriel had Gwen to celebrate with every year. And Torben and Sophie, too, of course. Christmas was designed to be spent among loved ones.

“I might go caroling or something,” Olive continued. Gabriel still couldn’t believe his ears. “I’m not sure yet. Something small and quiet, you know?”

Gabriel did not know. He didn’t want to. Christmas in his family was never “small” and never “quiet”. This year, there would be duck and rabbit and braised vegetables and two types of potato and puddings that rose inches out of their soufflé pots. There would be off-key singing and drunken laughter and fake squabbling. There would be mistletoe to kiss under, a fireside to lounge beside, a dinner table to crowd around. A quiet and small Christmas sounded so dreary in comparison.

Olive lifted her glass to Gabriel and said, “We should toast to something. It is Christmas, after all.”

“To your new Christmas plans,” Gabriel said, meeting her glass. “With my family. I can’t promis it will be “quiet”, but I promise you the best Christmas meal you have ever tasted. Cheers.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Olive Degarmo

Olive expected Gabriel to say something about the year coming to an end, or the spirit of the Christmas season. She expected something quick and sentimental, some kind of thrown-together poetry that was still soppy and dripping with glue from being so hastily done. What she did not expect was what Gabriel did say.

“To your new Christmas plans,” Gabriel said, his words broken only by the soft, abrupt clink of glass. “With my family. I can’t promise it will be “quiet”, but I promise you the best Christmas meal you have ever tasted. Cheers.”

Habitually, Olive gave an obligatory “cheers” in return and took a sip from her delightful spirit.

But as the mulled wine seeped into her taste buds, Gabriel’s words seeped into her ears, at last registering with her.

She gagged with surprise, and mulled wine made its way through her nose and down her front. “Wait, what?” she coughed, clutching to her chest in surprise. “What did you say?” Had she heard him correctly? He wanted her, a near perfect stranger, to spend the world’s most celebrated holiday with him and his family. It couldn’t be. Her ears had to of been lying to her. Why would a man she had only met once before want her, a lonely, faded woman at his home for Christmas when he could be spending it with far more important people than her? The holiday was about family, not acquaintances. It was about kissing under the mistletoe and exchanging with ones you loved, not about awkward small talk with the family of a man you just met.

But then again…

The holiday was about sharing and giving. And when you were on the receiving end of that, it was about accepting. And it wasn’t as if Olive had any other pressing plans or previous engagements. She was free for the evening, that was for certain.

[The Exodus]

OOC: Sorry it’s so short! BIC:

Gabriel Fontaine

Olive matched his “cheers” and they both drank from their goblets. The wine was warm—as mulled wine ought to be—and Gabriel credited it with the goofy smile on his face. Although, when Olive sputtered suddenly and sloshed wine all down her front, Gabriel knew it wasn’t the alcohol that made him grin.

“Wait, what?” Olive asked, clutching her chest.

Gabriel started to laugh and he reached over the bar to grab an untended rag.

“What did you say?” Olive asked again, once she was breathing normally.

“I said that you’re welcome to spend Christmas with me and my family,” Gabriel said. He offered the rag to Olive so she could wipe a trail of red from the corner of her mouth before it could do more damage to her gown. Then something occurred to Gabriel that hadn’t before. Maybe Olive didn’t want to spend Christmas with him and his family. It seemed absurd to Gabriel that someone wouldn’t want to spend Christmas at the Fontaine-Blaus’, but it was a distinct and unsettling possibility. “That is, if you’d like. So, how about it?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Olive Degarmo

Gabriel wiped the stray dribbles of warm wine from her lips, making Olive smile gratefully.

“I said that you’re welcome to spend Christmas with me and my family,” Gabriel patiently piped, reassuring her that her ears, were indeed fine. She swallowed down a dry gulp and her mind raced. “That is, if you’d like. So, how about it?”

It was silly of him to question if she wanted to. Of course she did. But what did she bring? What if his family didn’t like her? Or vice versa? After all, she had never met them. Her presence could spoil what would have otherwise been a wonderful fun family night. She could be thwarting tradition, throwing it to the ground and shattering it with an uncomfortable crash. It would have been better if she just volunteered at a church or found a group of carolers to join.

“Well, I’d hate to impose. Are you sure your family won’t mind?”

But every excuse and reason to say ‘no’ stuck her heart with a sharp pin of regret. Why spend the night alone when a beautiful man was willing to welcome her into his home for the holidays?Who was she to deny him? Why not take a risk and meet new people? A stranger was, after all, just a friend you hadn’t met yet. Chances were, if they were related to Gabriel, they would be lovely people. For every ‘no’ there were two resounding ‘yeses’.

Olive found recently, that her loneliness had lay dormant beneath her denial of it for so long, that it had grown and mutated until it was a tangible hunger eating her whole. And this realization had intensified this December, knowing that not only was she alone in general, she was alone on Christmas. It was a fate Olive never thought would be hers, surrounded not by family and friends, but by dusty old trophies and records, listening to the sounds of convivial Parisians singing yuletide melodies and opening celebratory champagne flow in through her window.

“Yes,” she said quickly, not giving Gabriel a chance to answer. “Yes. I’d love to spend Christmas with you.” She smiled. “Thank you.”