Normandy stared at her reflection in the mirror, her dark eyes glowering. Her parents had returned home this morning, taking over her birthday planning and ordering fancy dishes.

She'd wanted something simple, just to hang out with her best friends for the day. She hadn't wanted caviar or escargot. In fact, she'd been content with Rory's suggestion to buy pizza.

Really, her mother was still quite sick. She should be resting, and instead she was meeting with caterers and party planners. Normandy winced as she heard yelling from downstairs.

Stepping into the hallway, she looked over the railing to see her mother standing in the hallway, arguing with a maid.

Normandy was about to yell down to her when Emilie appeared in the hall, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist.

About a moment later, Rory came up behind Rory, similarly placing a consoling hand on Normandy's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Normandy said, heaving a heavy sigh, "I just wish she'd stop."

Rory nodded. "You're concerned about her?" Normandy knew it was more of a statement than a question.

"Partly." Normandy paused. "I like it when Amelie's here, because she always calms my mom down and takes over… A bigger part of it though is that my mom takes over." She shook her head. "Although this will sound ungrateful, I am capable of planning my own party."

Rory laughed at the young girl's concerns.

"It's such a pleasure to see you again, Vivian. It's been far too long. And how's Gregory, Jan?"

Tristan looked on as his mother made small talk with Normandy's middle-aged guests. He'd always hated family parties, and especially birthdays. They were another social gathering, and always blew up to the point where the guest of honor was forgotten. These women were not Normandy's friends.

He saw Rory in the corner of his eye as she dodged a persistent businessman. He realized she shared many of Amelie's physical features, especially her bone structure. She wore a loose white dress and was probably dressed more casually than everyone else there. Yet she still looked exquisite with her hair pulled back and her lips painted red.

Tristan shook his head as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. Rory did not look exquisite; she was a high school crush. The only reason he even thought about her was because she was a missed opportunity, and one who had scarred his ego.

He glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. Where was Amelie?

Amelie drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as the traffic edged along, the worst of a jam now over. In the last 45 minutes, she'd only managed to move half a mile, and to make it worse, she couldn't find her cell phone. She hadn't even been able to call Tristan to tell him she'd be late.

A Christmas song came on the radio and she switched the channel, frowning. It was only the beginning of November. It seemed like Christmas started earlier every year.

She smiled as the road cleared just in time for her exit. As she turned off the highway, she heard a ring from somewhere in the car.

She felt around in the backseat, and finally grabbing her coat, pulled out the phone. "Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, Ames!"

Allison. "Hi, Allison. Did I forget something?"

"Nope. I just wanted to see how you were feeling. You left before I got home."

Amelie laughed. "Yeah… somebody didn't come home after their date last night."

"It was amazing, Ames." Allison sighed happily. "He was so perfect, so… gentle."

Amelie crinkled up her nose. "I don't need anymore details, Allison. Thanks. And I am feeling better. My head still hurts a little, but I'm not congested anymore." Amelie paused. "You should ask Max to make his soup for you."

"Soup? I don't like soup, Ames."

Amelie laughed. "Just ask… I have to go, Allison. I'll call you when I get back."

"Oh, no, it's not problem. Really, you haven't missed anything," Tristan assured Amelie over the phone as he sat down on the stairs, bringing his elbows to rest on his lap.

"Okay. I just feel bad. If I'd left earlier or something...or even a bit later." Amelie heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry."

Tristan smiled. "Don't be sorry, Amelie. You don't exactly have control over the driving conditions. I mean, of course you're a goddess, but not even you can control that."

"Nice line," Amelie said sarcastically. "Okay. Well, tell Normandy I'm sorry and that I should be there within half an hour."

"No problem." Tristan looked to the right of the stairs, where most of the guests were standing around, talking. "And you aren't really missing anything."

"You look pretty."

Normandy was laying on her bed when she heard him. She looked up slowly. "Thank you," she said, pulling herself up to a cross-legged position.

Ethan sighed, plopping down on the end of her bed. "What's wrong, Norm?" His eyes twinkled with mischief at the nickname.

Normandy glared at him. "Don't call me that. I sound-"

"Like an old man. Sorry, Norm… Andy."

Normandy tried to hold her glare, but the left corner of her mouth curved upwards, giving away the smile forming. "Thanks, Ethan."

She'd known Ethan the longest out of her friends. His dad was- had been- a close friend of her mother's. The two shared a connection and an unspoken language, so Ethan knew just what she was thanking him for.

He sighed, scooting backwards until his back was against the headboard. "You didn't answer my question," he said, guiding her to his side.

Normandy bit her lip, avoiding her best friend's gaze. She didn't like that Ethan always seemed to know what was wrong. "It's nothing. It's just I don't like birthdays, you know? And my mom…"

"Transformed this into the social gathering of the year," Ethan finished.

"Yeah."

"Well, there isn't anything you can do about it right now, Normandy. Except suck it up."

"Hey…" Her tone held a warning, and Ethan remembered the time she'd beat him up when they were five.

"I'm just saying that your mom went through a lot of trouble for you. So do it for her, Normandy."

Normandy considered this. Linda Ashford was not one to irritate, even when she was sick. "Fine," Normandy huffed, slamming her head against the headboard. "Just give me a minute."

Ethan smiled, squeezing Normandy's shoulder.

Amelie winced as she entered the Danvers-Ashford home. Since when was a nine year olds birthday a formal event? She shook her head as she glanced down at her Juicy sweats and matching top.

"Someone else who didn't dress up."

Amelie smiled as Rory walked over. "I think I have you outdone," she said quietly, gesturing to Rory's dress.

"Well, yeah, but… well, compared to everyone else?"

Amelie nodded. "I have some spare dresses upstairs. Do you want to borrow one?"

Rory paused. "I guess. I mean, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah."

"Your clothing's all so beautiful," Rory said, pulling out a green gown.

Amelie smiled. "That's what I wore on my first date with Tristan." Her eyes followed the length of the fabric as she spoke. "That was such a disaster."

"What happened?" Rory asked, putting the dress back.

"We went to a party… the host was a friend of his family, supposedly. It turned out to be the teenage son of a friend of the family. A drunk fifteen year old spilled punch all over my dress, and then, within an hour, it got raided by the police."

Rory laughed. "Seriously? I never would've pictured you guys as the partying type." She paused, realizing how poorly she'd worded that. "Not that you're boring. Just… so put together, you know?"

It was Amelie's turn to laugh. "Put together? We're anything but. There's nothing put together about us. Like, Tristan still acts like a teenager half the time, and our wedding… well, basically nothing's planned." Amelie smiled as she ran a finger over her engagement ring. "Rory, when you fall in love, you'll know he's right for you. And that you can spend the rest of your life with him. Tristan and I only dated for five months before we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together."

Rory was surprised by Amelie's openness, and she liked the other girl for it. Most members of Hartford's elite were reserved and businesslike, so talking to Amelie was refreshing.

"Amelie, you're here."

Normandy's voice interrupted Rory's thoughts and she turned to see the young girl standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Normandy." Amelie smiled at her, gesturing for her to come in. "I need your help choosing a dress."

Normandy raised an eyebrow. "You thought my mom would allow a jeans and T-shirt function inside her house?"

"Stupid, huh?" Amelie placed a hand on Normandy's back, guiding her over to the closet. Rory watched as Amelie spoke to Normandy and Normandy smiled in return, stunned by her new friend's easy way with children. Perhaps Tristan had grown up.

'How does a nine year old's birthday party turned into a ballroom dance,' Tristan wondered as he saw Normandy sitting in a corner with Ethan and Scott.

Almost half an hour ago, his mother had started an impromptu dance by having the domestics move the furniture from the sitting room floor and having the piano player play a waltz.

He smiled as Amelie sat down next to him, placing her small hand in his larger one, gently squeezing it. "Only another hour," she said, staring out at the dance floor.

Tristan smiled, and standing up, pulled Amelie with him. "Would you like to dance, Amelie?"

Amelie smiled, following her fiancé onto the makeshift dance floor.

Tristan didn't like ballroom dancing. It was too proper for his tastes, and too professional. He pulled Amelie to him and the young couple danced to their own music, oblivious to the people around them.

"I'm bored," Scott complained, plopping down on the floor and wrapping his arms under his legs.

Ethan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye from his spot leaning against the wall. "Never would've guessed." His gaze turned to Normandy. "Do you want to open your presents or something?"

From her spot to Ethan's left, Normandy shook her head. "I can't. Not until my mom gives me permission."

"Well, how about you just open mine?"

Normandy considered this. "I guess that would be okay."

Ethan nodded, pulling a small box from his pocket. "My mom helped pick it out," he admitted, shoving it into Normandy's hands.

"I figured," she said as she opened the small box and pulled out a silver charm bracelet. There were already four charms on it.

Ethan pointed to each. "That's a book. Because, well, you like to read. And that's a pair of ice skates. And that's a musical note. And that's a tennis racket. Remember the time I had to get stitches?"

She did. She held out her wrist and Ethan fiddled with the clasp until he got it to lock. "Thank you."

Scott sighed next to them, clearly bored. "Do you wanna dance or something?" he asked Normandy, starting to get up.

"Okay."

She followed Scott out onto the dance floor, and Ethan stayed in the corner, holding the box as he waited for their return.