I twist on my heel to discover whatthatis and…

My heart thumps.

Tucked against the wall by the elevator, Amelia clasps a hand to her chest. Frightened eyes gaze from beyond the slits of an elaborate mask covered in seals and drops of red-and-white wax. Peacock Christmas greens shift shades in her skirt, every sequin shining, every feather floating.

She is ethereal. Fantasy.

My hand lifts to her last letter, which I’ve tucked beside my heart in my breast pocket, and I find it quite near impossible to breathe.

“I should’ve worn my best suit,” Frank says, causing more problems for a future Frank as she tears through the cheese on her plate. “Poor thing.”

Poor, enchanting, lovely, beautiful thing…

Wetting my lips, I make sure I still know how to speak. “She’s…stunning.”

“Go to her before she has a panic attack, maybe?” Frank suggests.

Straightening my clothes, I nod and force my legs to work. They drag me across the room, growing heavier as my heartbeat accelerates.

This is it.

She’ll tell me about the love letters. We’ll leave this party as acouple. I’ll ask her if she maybe wants to marry me in the car or something. She’ll turn completely red…and then she’ll match her mask and be red and green for Christmas in July.

Dark lashes flutter as brown eyes take me in. “Brian…” she whispers.

I brace, ready, eager, awaiting. All I can think to say is, “You look beautiful.”

The tension in her shoulders falls, for barely an instant, then it’s back. She scans the others in the room. “I think…I’m overdressed.”

“You’re not.” I offer her my hand. “They’re underdressed. I ought to dock them all down to the naughty list for failing to follow simple party dress code.”

Beneath her half-face mask, a small smile appears as she lets her hand meet mine. “What is the prize for being on the nice list?”

“Mostly? Not being on the naughty list.”

“What…happens to the people on the naughty list?”

I chuckle and hook a finger beneath her chin. “Don’t worry. You won’t personally find out.” Lacing our fingers, I ask, “Shall we free anyone who’s only here for the prize…or do you have anything you’d like to tell me first?”

Her fingers flinch in my grasp, then she returns my squeeze and stammers, “I-I can hardly stand the anticipation.”

Right-o. No confessions yet. No problem. Perhaps it’s a little too loud and crowded and embarrassing for her to be among the spare two—us—who know how to read. Minority anxiety experiences are understandable. I’ll thin the crowd for us first.

Pulling my reluctant future bride across the lobby, I make my way to the DJ station and grab my Will-issued walkie-talkie. “Come in, Mr. Vann. Over.”

Will’s voice crackles through the line, “Go for Brian. Over.”

I grin. “Copy. Are you ready? Over.”

A nervous laugh. “Copy. As ready as I’ll ever be. Over.”

“Excellent. Making the announcement now. Over and out.” Putting my walkie-talkie back, I grab a microphone and adjust the music volume so I’ll be heard easily within the room. “Attention, party people! I know some of you are only waiting to learn what’s come of the nice and naughty lists, so allow me to provide the metaphorical cake at this birthday so you’re welcome to move freely about the cabin in the aftermath.”

Some of my coworkers blink and glance at one another.

I continue, ignoring their obvious confusion, “I’d like to extend a blanket congratulations to everyone who has participated in all our Christmas in July fun. Thrillingly, only one person couldn’tquitedrag themselves up off the naughty list.” I sweep my hand toward the glass front windows. “If all my nice list homie buddies would direct their attention to the parking lot, you’ll see your reward—and that poor unfortunate soul’s punishment.”

Gasps and a maniacal chuckle—from Frank, possibly—rise.