Pen name: Edwina Cullen

Original or Derivative (fanfiction): AU/Derivative

Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): T

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: (Scenario) After a long day at work, you stop for dinner at your favorite restaurant. However, there is long wait for a table, so you're left standing in the corner. You're stressed, worn-out, and irritated by the noise, the small child tugging on your jacket, and the stranger staring at you, but you refuse to leave. Using all the elements and emotions, describe what happens next.

Debutante

Time had not changed the look of the restaurant. Like it had many years ago, the bland exterior was still completely misleading. Its pale beige walls had grown only marginally darker, betraying how long ago it had last been painted. The now weather beaten sign at the front had also become an antique instead of a tool to draw customers in. It was no secret that this was the best restaurant in town. Chez Jolie did not need any advertisement.

The popular eatery had little space to cater for the large numbers that patronized it. Even after several expansion works had been done to create more room for hungry clients, the long queue of waiting patrons outside more marked the spot than deterred potential customers.

I sighed, pulling out my old Motorola phone to confirm that I had been waiting nearly 30 minutes for my turn. Pushing it back into the small pocket on my suit, I shifted slightly to readjust the sleeping child in my arms. His head sagged further into the crook of my neck and his arm tightened around my neck.

I swallowed and looked down at the other small child holding onto my hand. She shifted, leaning heavily onto my already tired leg. I bent slightly and stroked her curls. My brave little girl, though sleepy, had readily forfeited her comfort for her twin brother.

Glancing back at the door, I sighed again, wishing the other customers would hurry so we could find a table, eat quickly and return to the warmth in our home. Suddenly, the queue moved forward, putting us in second place. There is still hope, I thought.

After several moments of waiting made no difference to our situation, I woke the child in my arms up and put him back down on his feet. He protested groggily and leaned on my other leg while I stretched the painful kinks out of my arm. For a brief moment, I thought I caught a flash of a sad smile cross the host's rigid exterior. I smiled back at him, batting my long eyelashes when he turned to look again.

"S'il vous plait, monsieur, how much longer do we need to wait?" I asked, darting the tip of my tongue quickly over my parched lips to moisten them at the end of the enquiry and gesturing at my twin children. The stoic man looked down and gasped.

It was no surprise, nearly everybody who met my children had the same reaction to seeing them. His lips stretched into a wide smile for the angelic looking two. I smiled back, proudly gathering them closer to myself, their golden eyes wide, pleading and hungry looking.

"Madame," he called to me when he had sufficiently regained his composure. "We will find you a place immediately."

"Of course, merci beaucoup," I murmured, nodding to him gratefully as he pushed through the entrance.

A few minutes later, we were seated in the dark interior with the red silk curtains hanging from ceiling to floor. Like the outer, the décor was just as bland. An old crystal chandelier still hung from the fake Michelangelo ceiling.

I smiled slowly, thinking back to 20 years ago, when turning 40 seemed eons away and not easily attainable. The waiters still wore the same old uninspiring uniforms they did then. Their distressing orange stripes, running from shoulder to feet, nearly marred one's experience of the exquisitely done cuisine of the restaurant.

"What would you like, Madame?" a soft voice drew closer to inquire.

I smiled up at him and placed our orders for the house special. As he hurried away to fetch our meals, I caught a man looking at us from the corner. His intent gaze piercing through me made me very uncomfortable, but I was unable to tear my eyes from his.

He rose and strode towards us, gliding as though he was drifting on a cloud. As he neared us, I gasped at his striking resemblance to the twins. His eyes were golden as well, though darker and more experienced. His skin was just as pale, highlighted by the dark blue shirt he wore, opened at the lapel to reveal a spray of chest hair, the same shade of blonde as the hair on his head.

"Are they..?" he asked in a small voice, looking at both children in awe.

"Oui…yes," I stuttered, nodding when my voice failed me. He turned to smile at me, weakening my already shaking knees with his dazzling smile. For a moment I wondered if he could see my distress, but he turned away before I could catch any signs in his knowing glance.

Finally gathering enough courage to ask, I whispered, "Êtes-vous … are you?" gesturing towards the quiet duo sitting opposite from me.

"Once, a long time ago. J'étais débutante, aussi," he replied, dipping his eyes to look over the identical pair of faces raised towards his again. I smiled at him then, and nodded once. Sensing my approval, he smiled back and touched his forefinger to each child's cheek. His smile faltered for a moment, and a flash of emotion whisked over his expression briefly.

"Au revoir," he finally whispered, more to my children than to me. I meant to reply, the words "à bientôt" forming on the tip of my tongue. But before I could whisper them back, he hurried on and disappeared through the exit.

"Maman," Estelle finally called to me, "who was that man?"

Exactly as I had expected, my daughter's raging curiosity reared up when I had no answers to give her. I glanced towards the door briefly, resisting the urge to smile as I whispered back to her, "C'est un nul, Cherie."

She looked dissatisfied with my answer, wondering why I had called the man 'a nobody' when he seemed more than that. She turned to look towards the exit as I watched her closely, pursing my lips when she returned her questioning gaze to mine.

Her own lips tightened briefly, but she did not speak again. Instead, she sighed slowly and squeezed her twin brother's hand once, blowing slightly on a spoonful of bœuf ragout before silently lifting it to her mouth.

AN: Thanks to my wonderful editor, findthewill. Your support is amazing!