adifferentlife | Christmas Lunch

Christmas Lunch

The best way to celebrate any holiday is to share it with people that one care's about, Sybil is sure of that. It's why she's organised this, a luncheon for any and all that she's friends with. It's not something she's done before, and it feels very adult to be hosting a party within her own home. It's not something she ever imagined doing in such a small space, or without a staff to support her, or even before she was married with her own home, but those aren't things that are considerations here.

Instead she's let everyone know when to come and to bring something to share with the others. She's ordered in the main part of the meal, a roasted turkey instead of a goose and a roast of lamb as well. There's champagne and wine, and she has the record player Kaine gave her in the corner playing christmas carols by Bing Crosby. There's a small tree of real pine with strings of beads strung through its boughs and little elecric lights twinkling. Henri has helped her to decorate and do the cooking that she's tried, even if most of the cookies she made needed to be thrown our they were so burnt.

Once people start to arrive she relaxes, allowing herself a glass of wine once she's sure everything is in order and things are going well. At some point there is nothing else she can do, other than talk to her guests; her friends. It's nothing like a Christmas at Downton, but her second one here in Darrow and it feels like the Christmas it's supposed to be.

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Rarely one at the center of a party, even a small one like this, Combeferre leaned against the edge of the sofa, sipping his wine. He was finding something truly delightful in seeing Sybil bustle about, acting as hostess. If she had reserved any anxieties from the day’s preparations, the signs were as hidden as the burnt pastries sitting at the bottom of the trash bin. Now she exuded the warmth and brightness he knew - and adored - so well, and damn it all, he was having trouble keeping his eyes off her.

You are utterly ridiculous, he told himself, and shook his head ruefully, hoping that no one else (mostly friends of Sybil’s he had not yet met, for goodness sake) noticed quite how obviously his attention was being directed.

Sybil has relaxed now, sipping at a glass of wine and taking a moment to breathe before dinner is served. There's enough time for her to spend time with the guests, to chat and mingle as a hostess should. She can't help but look to Henri, but she knows there will be enough time to speak with him throughout the night and later. Sybil smiles at him across the room before turning to another friend to say hello.

It's almost overwhelming, how content Katie is this year. She has Jamie with her and good friends to dine with. Last week, she was invited to another party, she's got a wonderful boyfriend, this morning's Christmas mass was so soothing, and she's well on her way to getting her medical license. Somehow, in the last year, it feels like everything has begun to slot into place for the first time since she was a teenager — perhaps for the first time since her father's death. Her heart is full as she sips a glass of one, baby on her hip, and smiles at those gathered around her, content for the moment simply to observe.

Jehan had been quite pleased to be invited to Sybil's Christmas gathering, and had been finding it hard to conceal his own joy as he caught the fond glances she and Combeferre have been exchanging throughout. He was filled with nothing but happiness for his friend and his good fortune at having found such a kind, thoughtful, generous woman in this strange world, no matter her background.

He sipped his wine and settled into a chair, listening to the unfamiliar music playing as he gazed at the tree, warm and content.

If there's anything that makes Booker nervous, it's gatherings like these. He's always lacked the social graces and patience that they require and honestly, if he hadn't felt obligated, he'd never have some in the first place. But Sybil's someone Elizabeth likes and he has to admit she wasn't totally useless when they were all trapped in that... well, wherever they'd been trapped.

Still, it doesn't stop him from standing in the back of the room, drinking from the flask he always has on him.

Ten minutes, I decide. Ten minutes to be seen and talk with Sybil and then I'm going to go. This is absolutely not the sort of thing I'm comfortable with. I generally don't like people or get along with them. I'm sure most of Sybil's friends are great people but that's no guarantee.

But I care about Sybil a lot and it's Christmas, so I'll stay for ten minutes, talk to a few people, and then go.

Honestly, celebration was the furthest thing from his mind, that afternoon, but it was Sybil's luncheon, and he felt compelled to make an appearance. Besides, he needed an hour or so to himself, to shake the last lingering smell of hospital off his back, to rejoin the real world for a moment or two.

But he'd only stay for a moment. T.J. was waiting for him, and they only had a bit more time together before T.J. would be whisked off to get well, where Thomas would be allowed weekly visits and little more.

Thomas was dressed smartly, but didn't carry with him his usual meticulous air. He was tired and it showed in the rings under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, and the slight dishevelment of his suit.

In his hand, he carried a box, a small pearl hair comb for the hostess, which he'd been told was vintage. Despite the party, the decorations, the wine, it didn't feel much like Christmas, and he couldn't promise he'd be able to fake it for long.

It's a quiet sort of Christmas, something for which Lucy is pleased. Granted, it's not like she's had so many that weren't, but still, even as the holiday brings with it memories of people who aren't around any longer, it's also a reminder to be grateful for the ones who are. Spending the afternoon at the home of a good friend, her brother with her, a few others she knows around, she isn't sure it would be possible not to be. It's one way in which she can count herself lucky. There aren't always many of those.

A glass of wine in her hand, she leans against a wall, out of the way but not separate from the small crowd, and smiles faintly. The circumstances being what they are, she can't really think of any better way to spend Christmas afternoon.

He's gotten used to a fair amount in the way of domesticity - really, normality of a kind - in the last few years, so this isn't as weird as it might have been, stopping in with the family in tow. Flo is wearing a red velvet Christmas dress with a big satin bow of which she seems particularly proud, and Mack is in a green dress with considerably less in the way of foofiness. She's also wearing the elf shoes with the curled, belled toes that she'd become completely enamored of a couple of days before Christmas. The girls have their tastes. Mike doesn't question.

The girls have small plates of turkey and have solemnly promised to not get too crazy - he and Neil had the bright idea of putting candy in their stockings, so they've been nursing a sugar high since around nine. But for now things seem mostly sedate, and Mike grabs a helping of lamb and a glass of wine, taking a few seconds off duty. This still isn't even close to what passes for normal for most people, but he'll take it all the way.

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