My True Love Gave to Me
This is my part of the larger collection of holiday pieces I'm doing alongside @gtypewriter and @dreamerart7 based on the song The Twelve Days of Christmas, featuring characters from my story, Clock Strikes!
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The Crown Charity Gala was the holiday party of the year, and not just in Perraulton. Affluent humans and giants alike came from all around to join in the spectacle that always happened on the weekend before Christmas. It was a celebration of the arts featuring installations from local artists, all of which were up for auction, and an incredible buffet catered by restaurants throughout the city.
Either of these would've been stars on their own, but there was one final tent pole that really made this event; the entertainment. This was a mixed gathering, so instead of a dance floor, there was a main stage that hosted rotating performances by musical acts, dance companies, and theatre tropes. All the proceeds from ticket sales and the auction went right back into the community, be they given to the artists directly, or as part of a scholarship fund for those wishing to pursue the arts themselves.
Every year Rhonda always offered tickets to everyone in Support, but I could never justify taking any. Whatever steps I took towards that kind of grandeur would've been a foot in the door for my stepfamily to barge in and swipe it out from underneath me. If they'd gone on their own, I wouldn't have cared, I just refused to be the reason they made the evening about themselves.
However, now that I was going as Lucas's plus one, none of that darkness was anywhere near my mind. It was still a little overwhelming, even after going for the past three years, but the rush was exhilarating. There was always so much to see, so many interesting people to talk to, and so, so much amazing food. To top it all off, this year Fritz had put together a wing of his own art that I absolutely could not miss.
We'd arrived at the venue hours before everything started to help Meredith and Fritz sort out any last-minute preparations, but they, the volunteers, and the rest of the main staff had been dotting the final i's all day. Aside from the few chances we found to lend a hand, Lucas and I were mostly just there for moral support.
Once we hit the final hour mark, we snuck off to a private room to change and get cleaned up before the doors officially opened. We basked in the extra privacy while we had it, taking a moment to really sit down, snack on a few hors d'oeuvres, and dip into the chilled bottle of wine that had been left out. I should've known that Meredith would think of everything.
It was nice, just the two of us.
Back out on the front lines, I couldn't put the rising monolith of my fear to rest. This wasn't even my first or second rodeo, and it still had me quaking in my boots. I was right here, next to the Crown family of all people, waiting at the entrance of the receiving area for the city's largest social event. They asked me to join them, as an equal, to greet their guests, even though I was just, me. And, to make matters worse, my presence was celebrated in the same breath as theirs by all of the celebrities and dignitaries who strolled in wearing clothes more expensive than I made in a year.
Lucas's family money had intimidated me plenty of times, but it was so surreal to be lumped in with it purely by association. Yes, we'd been dating for a number of years now, and yes, everyone here knew that and had met me before, but it still wasn't mine. Was I the only person who remembered that?
The little thorn stayed stuck in my side, but its stings faded away as the crowd processed in. Warmth and Christmas cheer filled the air, from the guests' smiles to Lucas's laughter. Maybe I wasn't born into whatever "this" world was, but I'd found a place here that was all my own. I still might never fully get it, but I think I could live with that mystery.
Over an hour had already passed when Meredith came over to shoo us away. "Go, sit down, and enjoy the evening," she insisted, literally waving us off like we were causing a scene.
While his hand was already at my back, Lucas didn't pick me up. "You sure? We're happy to help. It's no big deal."
Meredith rolled her eyes and gave her son's shoulder a gentle push. "We'll only be here for a little while longer. Your father and I have plenty more to check on."
A quick glance of permission and consent was shared, and we were on our way deeper into the party. I felt the temperature change the second we were farther away from the door, prompting a chuckle from overhead.
"You should've said you were cold, Emily," Lucas teased, seamlessly lifting me up to his shoulder and sliding me off. "We probably could've left earlier."
Just a second of his personal warmth was enough to revive me. "It wasn't that bad. Comes with the territory, especially this time of year."
He laughed and nudged me closer. "Whatever you say."
Getting out of the spotlight clicked everything into place and I felt the mild anxiety in my anticipation melt away. This was a party after all, something meant to be fun. We'd all been looking forward to tonight for months, and it was finally time to enjoy all of everyone's hard work.
Lucas followed the flow of traffic into the multileveled main hall, and even though I'd already been through here hundreds of times, seeing it filled with attendees brought a fresh swell of pride to my chest. Every year that feeling just got better and better.
There was a free cocktail table at the very end of the balcony right before the stairs, so I snagged it while Lucas went off to the bar to get us some drinks. I wandered over to the edge and leaned against the balcony as the next act came out onto the stage. Eleven woodwind instruments felt a little excessive, but it was a varied bunch from piccolos to a bassoon, and once the pipers started piping, they created an almost a cappella arrangement. Their set was a collection of classic holiday songs, and for songs I'd heard a hundred times before, I had to admit that their unique spin did breathe new life into the old tunes.
When Lucas got back with the drinks, he also brought company, which kicked off the second phase of our minor hosting responsibilities. People meandered over to and away from our little corner table for the next hour or so, bringing a change of conversational tune along with them. Some were long time Crown acquaintances, business associates, or family friends there to catch up, while others just wanted to swing by and say hello in case they didn't see us again.
It was a blur of faces old and new of both sizes that only ended when the call went out that the buffet had finally opened. We knew better than to try and beat the rush, so we sat back and finished our drinks, however I could barely call it a calmer atmosphere though. As the crowd gathered on the lower ground floor, the center of noise shifted accordingly thanks to the conversational hub centered around the long string of buffet tables. While it was in direct competition with the main stage for dominance over the tone of the hall, in the end it was still just noise. That dissonance was its biggest shortcoming, and the more delicately crafted performances still reigned supreme.
A hand slid up next to me, and I jerked out of my hazy daze to meet Lucas's curious smile. "You holding up?" he laughed, reaching out to trail a finger down my arm before taking my hand. "Even for me that was a lot."
Squeezing him back in return, I let my shoulders slump when I sighed. "You're telling me. I know we've had to deal with that kind of stuff every year, but it always seems to get bigger each time." My gaze wandered around the festivities as I leaned more into his touch. "If this keeps up, we might have to make a second receiving line past the main entrance if we don't want to block all the walkways."
There was an almost guiltily mischievous light in Lucas's eyes when I looked back at him, but he was quick to hide it. "Maybe even a whole second hall, just for us?" he quipped. "My parents could probably spin an entire other party out of it."
I yanked my hand free and waved them both between us. "Please no. One of these a year is more than enough for me."
Lucas chuckled, but didn't comment.
Taking that as an invitation to space out again, I naturally turned back towards the stage. A new act was coming out, but this one didn't seem to be a band. Nine ladies in flowing dresses covered in sequins arranged themselves around the stage, waited for a beat, and then began dancing the moment a string quartet started playing. Their movements were mesmerizingly graceful as they wove in between one another, flowing and almost gliding like a flock of birds. To my untrained eye it was perfect rhythmic synchronization.
It felt like the entire hall erupted into applause when their first number ended, and while they did pause to offer short bows, another piece started, and they were right back to business. Left unattended I definitely would've watched them for the rest of their set, but once again Lucas gently prodded me back to the present.
"The line should be more manageable now," he said as he gestured towards the stairs. "Want to try our luck?"
Reality might have drifted away from me for a second, but my stomach wasn't going to let that happen a second time. Pulled towards him by gravity alone, I smiled. "That sounds wonderful."
Like everything else about the gala, the buffet tables were larger than life, even for giants. The mood and atmosphere were one thing, but this was the one attraction that everyone always gushed about, and for good reason. A feast of feasts amazingly put together by hundreds of local restaurants, catering businesses, and specialty shops from all over Perraulton and many of the surrounding towns and cities. Every table had a placard for its affiliated vendor, as well as cards with contact information and in some cases even the chefs themselves to both serve their creations and network directly with potential future clients.
We queued up together in the mixed line instead of dividing and conquering mostly to keep our chances at getting dragged into long separate conversations down to a minimum. In the many weeks of prep, I'd looked over the menus countless times with Meredith, so I knew what my main targets already were. I'd learned from previous years though and wanted to keep an open mind and open space on my plate for anything that might've snuck under the radar. The buffet would stay around until the end of the gala, but there was plenty more to do than hang out and sample food all night. No matter how tempting of an idea that was.
Much like the chatter that had kept us trapped before, light and pleasant small talk drifted all around us as we proceeded down the very long line of tables. Of course, from other guests, but also the vendors we made a point to check in with. Everything seemed to be running smoothly thus far, but I wasn't one to take anything for granted. The second I sniffed out a problem, it would be all hands until we got the matter resolved. Some of that was a deeper instinctual reaction, though I'm sure most of it had been drilled into me from my many years in Support.
Partway down we reached a table for a local human eatery that had its selection split into two uniquely sized offerings. On the smaller side were carving stations for their various roast meat dishes, while the larger ones were miniature potpies made from the same roasts they were carving to order. Lucas grabbed one of each pie, and after I'd gotten my selection, I stared a little longer at the three stations down at the far end.
"What do you think makes them "French hens"?" I whispered once I was back with Lucas. "Is it the chickens themselves, or the way they're prepared?"
He had to bite down on his lip to stifle his open laughter. "Maybe preparation? I don't know much about that level of cooking, or birds for that matter, but as far as I know, there isn't anything specifically unique about France's chickens."
Keeping any further rhetorical questions to myself, we made it down the line in pretty good time and with a pair of very full plates. Instead of circling back to our previous spot, which had likely already been claimed by someone else, Lucas snuck his way through the crowds to the larger tables on the main floor surrounding the base of the stage. While there were multiple seats open, and about just as eager invitations, we claimed some of the last few chairs at the table Rhonda was sitting at and dove into both our meals and a more casually relaxed conversation.
Everything on my plate and the bits I'd sampled from Lucas's were incredible. Now that we were filled to the brim with great food and holiday cheer, it was finally time to move on to the exhibits in the wings branching off the main hall. There were even more people milling about, so Lucas moved me up to his shoulder as he deftly navigated to the nearest door. A live feed of the performances was being broadcast throughout the building, bringing a touch of those festivities into the calmer areas of the silent art auction.
It was like walking into a small museum, or the most varied personal collection I'd ever seen. Fritz always out did the previous year when curating and setting up these rooms, and I really had to hand it to him every single time. Not only were the pieces phenomenal, but the care and consideration that had gone into highlighting each and every one was mind boggling. Obviously, he knew his stuff, and honestly, I wouldn't trust anyone else with such an important task.
Since we weren't really in the market for a new conversation starter for either of our apartments, Lucas and I just took in the spectacle as he strolled along. Most of the artists prepared for this night over the course of the entire year, either specifically for quality or, more likely, quantity. Whatever the case, the selection was as diverse as it was inspiring, and I couldn't believe the number of new names we passed in between all the familiar ones. I doubted it was the only factor, but it was heartening to see the effect of the scholarship fund.
Nearing the end of the general exhibits, one piece in particular captivated us at the same time. It was a massive tree that reached well over Lucas's head made entirely out of metal and stained glass. The ways the frames had been bent and twisted around each to create the rounded curves of the trunk was elevated to an entirely new level by the vibrancy of the glass itself, which was cut into such intricate pieces and layered on top of each other. Further up, the branches fanned out to hang some incredibly delicate looking leaves in every shade of green imaginable. Interspersed between them and hanging from the branches as well were some rounded shapes of blown, yellow-green glass, and it wasn't until I saw a beautifully crafted bird perched near the center of the tree that I figured out what they were.
"It's a partridge in a pear tree," I laughed. "How cute."
Lucas leaned back to look farther up, then glanced over at the sign beside the bidding sheet. "Oh yeah? No kidding." He laughed as well before bringing his hand up to me. I moved over without question and stepped off onto the human viewing platform around the base of the piece so we could both walk freely around it. However, instead of doing any of that, I watched Lucas as he shuffled backward to get a better angle. "Ok, yeah. I can see it now." He crouched down while looking up, almost putting him close to my perspective. "Wow. That really is something else."
We both got kind of lost in the tree, but we eventually found each other again and moved on to the final gallery; Fritz's. This was such a deeply personal indulgence for me, because even though I'd gotten previews of most of, if not all of the pieces while they were being worked on, seeing them finished and displayed like this threw me back in time to all those museum trips I took with Dad. Long before I'd met Lucas or his family, Fritz had always been my favorite artist, a fact that still rang true even today. I didn't have the words to describe it, but there was just something in the way he made things that resonated deep inside me. No matter what anyone else said, he would always be the best, regardless of medium.
Of all the exhibits we'd been through, this gallery was the busiest. Understandably so, and while I loved that others appreciated Fritz's work too, I really did hope they'd go back and check out all of those other artists as well. As we steadily moved deeper into the gallery, I noticed a strange blocked off area further in the back. There was even a security guard posted in front of it, which only served to make me even more curious. Lucas didn't seem fazed by it at all, and just kept meandering ever closer to it.
'Did I forget something?' I wondered, stealing another glance at it while we moved between pieces. 'Or does he know something that I don't?'
Whatever the case, the mystery couldn't be avoided forever, and when the room had cleared out a little, Lucas actually walked towards the security guard. Our greeting was a brisk nod, then the guard reached over to unclip the velvet rope to let us through. Lucas quietly thanked him and continued forward without missing a step. All I could hear was the clink of the rope being secured back into place.
Behind another thick curtain was a small room with a simple, two-seat bench in the center and a trio of spotlights hung from the ceiling. Those lights were angled at the wall opposite us, where a single painting was on display. The Meeting in the Courtyard.
Suddenly there wasn't any air in my lungs. "Lucas, I... Is this...?"
"The original?" he finished with a smirk in his voice. "Yes." His hand was in front of me again, held just so that it didn't block any of the view. "This painting is almost always out on loan, but it was apparently very easy to call it back for one night."
I didn't really trust my legs to support my weight, but I crossed over all the same and let Lucas bring me over to the viewing platform just in front of the painting. "But why is it here behind security instead of being displayed out there for everyone to see?" My voice almost sounded like it was coming from another room.
"Well, it's not for sale for one thing." Lucas sat down on the bench behind me. "And Dad thought it might make an interesting bidding war. The chance for some time alone with him and the painting for a private lecture. From what I've heard, it's fairly popular." After he softly cleared his throat, his words came out weaker. "But that's only the public reason."
"What do you mean?"
This time when he cleared his throat it sounded painful, so I tore my eyes off the miracle on canvas in front of me to face him. "I know it's important to you, so I wanted to share it with you, Emily," Lucas replied slowly. "There's so much of your life that I never got to see and won't ever get the chance to experience for myself."
I stumbled over to the railing and gripped it with both hands. "Lucas? Are you ok?"
He nodded and hunched forward to run a hand through his hair. "I wish I could've met your family, Emily. Your real family." His voice cracked, and he bit down on his lip. "I'm glad we've been able to spend so much time with mine, but it's not the same thing. I want to see your roots. I want the full picture of where you came from. And, I wish I could've asked them for permission."
My eyes were transfixed on Lucas's right hand, which broke away to grab something out of his jacket pocket. It was a small, black box, barely big enough to cover the pad of his thumb. A jolt shot straight through my heart.
'Is that...? Can this really be happening?'
Sure enough, Lucas slid forward off the bench to drop down to one knee. His hand shook the whole way up to the railing, where he presented me with the box. "Emily Asher," he enunciated with such delicate care. "You're my best friend. There's no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with, so w-would... Will you marry me?"
I'm sure the ring was beautiful, but all I wanted to look at was Lucas. Or at least I tried to, because I was crying so hard I could barely see. "Yes!" I sobbed as I climbed over the railing and onto his hand. "A hundred times yes!"
He was crying too, and as his fingers curled in around me, I made sure to hold on tight to the box as we sealed the promise with a kiss.
