The logs in the great fireplace crackled and sang warmth into the room. Heavy, faded green velvet curtains shut out the dark night. Le Noël de la rue, warbled Edith Piaf, on the old Victrola. It was the top of the hour. She opened the curtains inviting the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower to fill the room with light.
Honest, plain brown paper.
A scattering of pearls.
An elegance of black ribbon.
A Coco Chanel wrapped Christmas gift.
Brown paper unrolled.
Silver scissors cut.
Cassoulet simmered on the old La Cornue stove and filled the rooms with its rich aroma.
Footsteps whispered on the ancient stone stairs. Theadora and The Tin Man had arrived.
It was Christmas in her little house in Paris.