Behind the Scenes

by Elisa Preston

The ladies turned around to get to work, but they failed to remember Levi was standing there and therefore created a three-person pile-up outside of Ms. Rhodes’ office. After the oomph’s and oops’s, Levi offered to get Seth and Kelsey to help.

  “They’ll be calling on my behalf. You two can, too, if you’d like. And I can have my staff that’s already here start cooking up some hors’d’oeurves right now? Have them served while they’re en route?”

  “Thank you, Levi,” she said, softly. The gratitude went all the way to her toes.

  For eight hours, Virginia, Sophie, Levi, Seth, and Kelsey sat in separate areas of the ballroom, each with their own list of thirty people to call. Ms. Marie Rhodes had been right: this would be a Gala that the likes of these guests had never seen, starting twenty-four hours before the start time, getting a phone call on behalf of Mr. Levi Adams, inviting them on an exclusive journey into the city.

  During a break, Virginia was taking a drink from her bottle of water as she leaned against the wall near the exit. She knew she looked as tired as she felt, and normally she would care. Tonight, she just wanted all the phone calls to be made and for the guests on the other end of the line to be excited for this Plan B.

  Levi walked into the ballroom and passed by without seeing her. She caught the edge of his sleeve to pull him back.

  “Hey there,” he said, his eyes soft and inviting.

  “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

  He gave a settled breath before responding. His hands landed on her shoulders and he looked her square in the eyes. “I think this is an incredible idea. Everyone I’ve talked to so far loves it. I have five left. It’s wonderful. Trust me. Ms. Rhodes was excited for it, too, she just doesn’t know how to express that.”

  Virginia let a laugh escape.

  “Too much Botox maybe,” he said, joining Virginia. “Come on. Let’s finish these calls, then get a good night sleep before tomorrow, which is going to be twice as long but way more fun.” He nodded his head in the direction of their respective work stations in the ballroom.

  As it turned out, Levi was right about guests loving Plan B. And since the calls had been made on behalf of Mr. Levi Adams, Levi and a guest of his choice—Virginia, of course—got to love Plan B, too.

  For each of the calls placed the day before the Gala, there had been a car service available to transport each guest to their nearest airport, where they then had been privately escorted to D.C., a nearby city unaffected by Abbey.

  A train had been rented and then each of the geographically outlying guests was brought into the city via the railway, the most common mode of transportation in 1935.

  Better yet, each train car had been equipped with first-class accommodations, including champagne and fancy hors’d’eouvres, courtesy of Mr. Levi Adams and his fast-working culinary team. Small glasses of Gilbey’s Gin Spey Royal Scotch Whisky Liquor, circa 1936, were offered alongside martinis, of which the men and a few women were duly impressed.

  Virginia walked through the three train cars full of guests, all but one smiling, mingling, and laughing. This is how Virginia had imagined rail transit in the 1930s. Back then, she thought everything so grand must have seemed terrific. And as they watched their world go by through spotless windows, how big it must have seemed. It wasn’t like they had the internet or World News Tonight to broaden their scope. No smartphones to make global news seem so immediately local. Just experiencing, enjoying. Living.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” Levi asked, suddenly behind her.

  Virginia’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, you startled me.” She calmed quickly and turned to face him. They were standing in the snack car, waiting for the next round of hors’d’eouvres to be ready. “You look nice in your fedora and tailored suit,” she said, straightening his lapel as she felt her own smile go crooked.

  “Why, thank you,” he said, taking a slight bow. “And you, in your ruffles,” he said, stifling a laugh. “I still can’t believe Ms. Rhodes had a costume designer on hand, and that the designer had this period dress just ready to go.”

  “Well, I like my ruffles,” she said, fluffing out the insanely robust ruffles that went from side to side at the top of her charcoal silk dress. “Okay, I don’t actually,” she whispered. “Sshh, don’t tell.”

  Levi gave her a for-your-eyes-only smile, and were it not for how freezing cold this train car was, she may very well have melted to the floor.

  “So, back to my original question, what were you thinking about when I walked up behind you a moment ago?”

  Virginia turned back to look out the window. “I was thinking about how much simpler life might have been back then. And how much more experiencing people did. You know, instead of reading a blog about something someone else experienced, they just experienced it. Whether they liked it or not.”

  Levi nodded slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him watching out the window. They were both standing and holding onto the seatbacks nearest them.

  How in the world they had pulled off renting three train cars that could make the route to pick up these guests hours before the Gala was beyond her. She had yet to say this during all of planning, but thank goodness for Ms. Rhodes and her plethora connections.

  Levi was right: guests loved it, evident by the carefree smiles, roaring laughter, and two-dozen this is fantastic comments they had thus far heard or received. Yesterday, during the mass calling, a handful of guests committed immediately, rearranging their hair and wardrobe appointments in order to be on time for the train. Not only did they not want to miss the Gala, they said, but they wanted in on the nostalgic experience of riding into New York City with fancy champagne, liquor, and food to boot.

  The conductor announced through the fuzzy train speakers that they would be pulling into the station in fifteen minutes. As the fuzz faded, Virginia’s phone rang.

  “Ms. Rhodes, how are you?”

  “Fine. How is it going?” Virginia pictured her leader standing pin straight in a pink tweed suit, showing apathy but having a million alarm bells going off behind her cool exterior.

  “It’s going well. We are fifteen minutes away. Are the cars in place?”

  “Of course they are, I have ordered them to be.” She spoke more of how ridiculous this weather is and how she couldn’t believe everything had to be rearranged. Nothing of Virginia and Sophie’s quick thinking and problem-solving, but Virginia could hear the gratitude buried in Ms. Rhodes’ tinny words. “So we will see you just about on time, then.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A low beep marked the end of the call. She placed her phone back into her black clutch, clasped it shut. In twenty minutes they would step out of the train and make their way to a row of luxurious transport vehicles that would escort more than one hundred guests to the Jackson Gala.

  Her Jackson Gala.

  She knew what the ballroom would look like, what it should smell like based on the food being served at that time, and what it should sound like according to the dee-jay’s plan.

  By her measure, in one hour she would know if the last six months would add up to everything she had been dreaming, hoping, and wishing for.

  Nothing left to do but live through it and hope for the best.

    Chapter 24

  The ballroom called for dancing. Merry, jolly, romantic dancing.

  The warm lighting coupled with the flawless big band tunes blaring from the stage and the speakers gave the Jackson Christmas Gala an ethereal, romantic air that begged its inhabitants to dance and be merry.

  Especially guests in a black, white, and silver fit-and-flare strapless dress that sparkled like the pristine layer of snow covering the outside world. The rows of shimmery studs trailing to the bottom from the solid black bodice looked like falling diamonds. With each step, Virginia could hear the heavenly swish of the fabric.

  Standing at the entrance to what could now be called her favorite room ever, Virginia took in her first glance
at the finished product, which had been completed while she and Levi were rubbing elbows with more than one hundred guests aboard a last-minute train ride into the city.

  The white calla lilies on every table and the white-and-red poinsettias near the dessert bar were only the beginning of the floral touches, but they were the perfect accent in a grand ballroom decorated to the hilt.

  Holly wove in and out of each of the four trellis structures around the ballroom, and each archway had a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the inside, each one perfectly centered.

  The light snow falling above them was the magic touch.

  The gold-and-maroon theme had been replaced with the linens Sophie made sure to secure after the purple, blue, and yellow fiasco, and they shone like pillars of satin in the moonlight.

  The dessert table had been set up similarly to how Levi had presented the menu to her earlier in the fall. What Virginia thought would be gaudy and out of place for a fancy affair was in fact perfectly proportioned to the rest of the room, and the color scheme Levi had designed for the treats was exquisite. He and his team had managed to create a table that gradually moved from white desserts—angel food and pound cakes, vanilla bean cookies, to delectable green goodies such as crème-de-mint bars that offered the mint on top, to the red pastries—white chocolate cake with raspberry filling and raspberry almond bars. The cakes each had simple yet elegant toppers; the white chocolate cake had white Christmas trees, and the angel and pound cakes each had an angel holding a star. Anchored on either end was the chocolate: mousse cups on one end, and individual molten lava cakes on the other. It was a sight to be held. And a feast to be had.

  As she made her way around, Virginia breathed in the scent of the room. Andrea, her essential oils guru back home, had hooked her up with small but powerful diffusers that would inject scents of cedarwood, holiday joy, and fir to the room. Strategically stationed throughout the ballroom, Virginia knew the earthy, nutmeg-y scents would put people in just the right mood. It not only looked like Christmas—inside and outside the ballroom, given all the snow—but it smelled like Christmas, too, and what else put people in the mood faster?

  Virginia’s eyes swept over the tables, all of which were decorated with vintage linens that had been painstakingly chosen by the linens team, and her and Sophie. At one point in their search for authentic linens from the first half of the twentieth century Virginia tried to keep track of how many hours they had toiled. Eventually she lost count, but now it didn’t matter; the product was well worth the hassle. The cream-colored candles, fresh pink and red roses, and scrolled place cards filled the table spaces.

  So far, everything looked like an exquisite, but run-of-the-mill, Gala. Guests were in beautiful dresses and handsome tuxes. They were holding drinks, mingling, smiling, laughing, and eating. Flowers and fancy silverware adorned dressed tables. Cocktails were being stirred, martinis were being shaken, and dessert was being eyed.

  Except for one thing that did not look like the previous thirty-four Jackson Christmas Galas. The one element that she knew would have people oohing and aahing, and talking about this Gala for years to come. Because you always remember where you were the first time you witnessed something you never thought could be.

  The hologram photographs in mid-air.

  Dreamt up by the audio-visual team and blessed by Ms. Marie Rhodes, et. al., fifty-five different vintage images of New York City in the early 1930s were all suspended in mid-air.

  Images of vintage fire engines and a black-and-white Rockefeller Center. Pictures of Broadway and Central Park with box cars and cavalry. An uncluttered Bryant Park and construction on the Brooklyn Bridge. Macy’s in all its glory; still as mobbed then as it is today. Men in fedoras and long tail coats; surreal sunlight streaming—pouring, really—into Grand Central Station’s vaulted main room. The original, before-anyone-used-it, City Hall subway station, and the Flatiron building.

  It was all so grainy, yet all so beautiful. The grayscale offered a romantic view of iconic and lesser-known parts of the city, but it all tied together one message: the Big Apple is a magical place with a rich history, one that deserves to be celebrated as it was this evening.

  Virginia took a deep breath, cleansing herself of every stress from the last six months. Two hours into the official start time of the Gala, she could finally say it had gone off without a hitch. Barring an insane showing by one of their guests, which was highly unlikely, every to-do item had been checked off and so she could officially … relax.

  “Hey, bestie,” Sophie popped up, Seth next to her. She bumped Virginia’s hip with hers, her own sparkling red, off-the-shoulder number. “We did it!”

  “We did, didn’t we?” Virginia turned to her friend. “And all we had to do to pull it off in the eleventh hour was rent last-minute trains and planes and send it all over New England picking up ten percent of these guests.”

  Sophie waved her hand, dismissing the headache like yesterday’s news. “Minor detail.”

  Virginia and Seth both laughed. “We couldn’t have done it without you guys,” Virginia said, directing her words to Seth. “I hope Kelsey is enjoying herself?”

  “Oh yes, she is over with a small group of friends from Tutto Mangiare. Levi’s white chocolate raspberry cake is her favorite thing in the world, so she has positioned herself within ten feet of it,” he said with a smirk.

  Virginia and Sophie’s eyes trailed over to the dessert table. Kelsey hadn’t been there when Virginia had walked in a few moments ago, but Seth was right: she was clearly positioned near the white chocolate raspberry cake, ready for word that the dessert table was open.

  Just one more reason for Virginia to adore Kelsey: her love of sweets and her commitment to her favorites. She was like that with people, too, and Virginia respected her for it.

  “And Levi?” Virginia attempted coolness in her question, but Sophie’s snort called her out.

  Seth simply, kindly, smiled and used his drink hand to sweep over to the opposite end of the ballroom.

  From across the dance floor, Virginia spotted Levi. He was heading toward her slowly, yet with the same determination she had seen from him during their first run and just before their first kiss. The man was nothing if not handsome. And kind. And smart. And everything else good that Virginia wanted in the love of her life.

  “Well, Ms. Sharpe. You have put on quite a party.”

  “Party? Gala. The fanciest Gala this side of the Hudson, thank you very much.” She took a small curtsy.

  He raised his hand to his chest. “My apologies,” he said. His smile reached ear-to-ear. All scruff was gone, nothing to hide under a ball-cap tonight. Just a softness in his expression that conveyed what Virginia had been trying so hard to avoid.

  Yet, at the moment she couldn’t for the life of her remember why.

  Levi opened his mouth to speak, but the dee-jay came on instead. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me for our first slower tune of the night. A little Cold December Night from our favorite, one and only, Michael Bublé.”

  Levi looked at Virginia for a long moment, considering his question. She held everything he wanted in the love of his life. They had danced at Ashley’s wedding. They had shared countless moments, just between the two of them. He knew it was time.

  The question was, did she?

  Levi extended his arm toward the dance floor. In a move that surprised them both, Virginia took his hand immediately and let Levi usher her out onto the dance floor.

  “You look … stunning,” he said, almost breathless.

  Virginia smiled, struggling for words. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she teased.

  They danced in comfortable silence. Their hands fit just right, both of them knew that already. The height difference was just right, Virginia noticed. And she fit perfectly in his arms, Levi noticed. Then again, he had always known she would.

  “So,” he said, his voice low. “Have I proven myself a worthy contender?”

  Virgin
ia took her head back slightly. “For what?” The faint smile was automatic, and would remain so long as she remained in his arms.

  “For you,” he said, dipped his forehead so she heard him over the music. “You were worried about being in the public eye. We have successfully spent time together in public more than a handful of times and you have yet to be mauled or taken advantage of by a photographer.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I think it’s time, Virginia.”

  “Time for what, Levi?”

  “Time to finish what we discovered on the airplane back in the spring.”

  “Which was what?” Her voice was soft, barely audible over Buble’s last verse.

  “That we belong together,” he said, keeping his shining blue eyes—which were dancing along with his heart—on her the entire time. Until the song was over, when he pulled her closer. And under something.

  “Mistletoe? Really?” Virginia’s nervousness faded, and Levi was brought into what made him fall for her in the first place, which was her ability to make him laugh in a moment when he wanted to do anything but.

  “Hey, you brought them in. I’m just putting them to good use.”

  “Not yet, you’re not.” She grew serious.

  “Virginia May Sharpe, since the moment you made me laugh on that airplane seven months ago, I have not gone one day without wishing you were mine and I was yours. You have become such a bright spot in my life, such a light that I never want shone anywhere else but here.” He placed his right hand on his heart. “You make me laugh, you are honest, kind, beautiful, and so much more than I deserve.”

  The flush-and-blush was gone. Now stood a woman confident in what she wanted. In who she wanted. And who she wanted was standing in front of her, taking her breath away in his tux and by the words he spoke from his heart.

  “I guess it’s time, then,” Virginia said, her voice softening.

  “Time for what?” Levi asked, his smile expanding.

  “Time to rediscover what we learned on the plane all those months ago.”