In a private room within the restaurant, the soft hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the snow falling on the French doors behind the head of the table filled the walls. Michelle laughed at something one of her guests said to her before she reached for her glass of wine. Dinner was dying down, with scraps of wonderful beouf bourguignon, chicken cassoulet, and lamb roasted in red wine being picked off by the table of friends.
Michelle wore a black dress with a neckline that swept across her shoulders. It was impractical for a winter birthday, but her ermine stole kept her warm whenever she snuck out for a breath of fresh air. She wore her ever faithful sapphire necklace and rings of glittering gems adorned her fingers.
She'd been favoring quiet birthdays lately, but Michelle knew she would have to do something grand for her 30th next year. Ah, well, she could worry about that in March.