Chapter Text
‘Dear Ms van Pelt,
From what I’ve seen of your show, you truly know your way around a problem— I would even say you’ve slightly improved since you last took five cents from me! Ha! Joking! Apologies! I know the last thing you want to talk about after so long is work. Although, I will have you know that I'm very proud of how far you’ve taken yourself. In fact, I’ll be surprised if this letter even finds you in the midst of all the fan mail. I hope you're doing well, Lucy. I wanted to cordially invite you to spend this next Christmas with me and the rest of the gang, at least the very few who give their own invites a second glance! We could even sing carols or go ice skating like old times! Now that I’ve written it down probably not, it’s a pretty cold winter in Minnesota this year. But sitting down for a few cups of hot cocoa together wouldn’t hurt, I would love to see you again!
Best of wishes,
Charlie Brown’
“Jesus that blockhead sounds sad and lonely,” Lucy said aloud, to no one but herself. Her voice echoed back to her in the vast space of her dimly lit condo. Charlie Brown was excellent at timing, she thought. Seeing that “Ms van Pelt”, as he called her, is sure to be fully booked until her late seventies; she really only made time for the occasional visits by her brothers, or her parents. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to hear from him, she’d had his name in her contact list since she had to get a mail sorter, but at this rate, it was hard to slow down in her life for anyone going normal speed. She thought about sending Charlie Brown a postcard, asking him to come to New York sometime, before folding the letter deliberately and then haphazardly stuffing it into the pocket of her long fur coat. She glanced around at her condo one last time before grabbing her keys and walking out the door. Prime real estate.
The momentary discomfort of past memories left her as she leaned against the glass siding of the elevator. This was the comfort she’d wanted since she was about 4 years old, and she didn't want that to get away from her for even a second. The chill hit her the instant she stepped over the threshold of the lobby's front door, and Lucy restrained herself from taking in the afternoon chill whilst rummaging through her purse. She pulled out a 20 and a pair of sunglasses, handing the money to the doorman, who gave her the usual nod, before placing the glasses upon her face. She completed the look by untucking her long black hair from her coat and pulling it into a low ponytail. While she enjoyed the luxury of fame, she still, now and then, enjoyed the mundane pleasure of taking an afternoon walk without needing to interact with every passer-by on the street that recognised her, and a simple tweak of her appearance seemed to do that trick. It was around 5 o’clock when she last checked, which was cutting it close to having enough time to get a bite to eat before arriving at the studio for filming at 7. Lucy supposed that it could be done, if by anyone then by her.
The usual steady click of her heels was muffled by the thin wet layer of snow that coated the streets of the Upper East Side. She walked down the blocks aimlessly in the vague direction of Park Avenue, debating on where she was actually headed. She hadn’t booked any reservations, and although she knew she could probably work something out on short notice, she’d just window shop for now, preferably French, maybe a little live music. She had always enjoyed soft jazz in the winter ‘who didn't!’ She’d thought. A little Vince Guaraldi set the holiday mood. There was something highly attractive in the simple iconicity of a good piano, or something like that.
She closed her eyes and swung herself step by step, listening to the sounds of the street, taking random corners, and peering into shops and restaurants as she passed. Lucy liked to think she had a little whimsy in her still. As she rounded another corner, the loud sounds of sirens and traffic seemed to subside, instead, in their place was the song of a distant piano through the open door of what looked like a fine dining German place, a place named “Arnd’s”. She smiled at the combination, she remembered her high school boyfriend’s eager attempts to make her German food, he was dedicated to his family’s heritage since it was one of the few things that connected him to his lifelong idol, Beethoven. He was a very strange kid for all the years she knew him; he had played a toy piano opposed to a real one until he was in middle school. It had been many years since she had last thought about Shroeder.
Lucy situated herself by the host stand, notably without a host, and rocked on her heels. Before she could search her surrounding sight line for such a person, a woman rushed over to the stand. She stood frazzled, what might have once been a slicked back bun, was now a mess of stray hairs falling from her hairline. Her eyes darted around as she issued out a series of apologies, ‘short-staffed’ Lucy thought, familiar to the feeling regarding her days as a member of the set staff. “No worries, could I have someone take my coat?” After confirmation, she slid the tan fur off her shoulders and let the woman lead her to her seat. She thought about how it was a cozy corner of the restaurant as she perused the menu, but she was awfully upset that there wasnt good view of the pianist, what was her dinner without the show? Despite feeling shortchanged, she didn’t want to put that girl under any more duress than she already was. Lucy may have been self-assertive, but that hadn’t robbed her of perspective.
Still, Lucy wanted nothing more than to be closer to the music, and seeing as busy as it was, she was sure her hostess wouldn’t miss her for the few minutes she was gone. Lucy wandered through booths and tables, attempting to make herself small, as she was quite self-conscious without the slight anonymity of the street. Diner’s seemed to be more involved with their meals than with her, though she did still catch the eyes of a patron in disbelief at her fleeting presence. Lucy often felt quite weak in public, opposed to how she felt on stage, like an animal at the zoo. Sure she was gawked at, but at the very least she was separate from the crowd. she felt like a wild animal roaming the streets when she entered any public space, more afraid of them than they were of her, knowing, at worst, any inane reaction could bring her whole life crashing down. Lucy’s thoughts piled up like this, before toppling down and settling into a calm wave as she reached the source of the music.
The restaurant was bustling towards the front, but the crowds seemed more calm towards the center like a eye of a storm. This was why until she got closer to the player, Lucy wasn’t able to really focus on the melody at all, but as she came closer to being in full sight of the piano she heard it clear as day. She knew at the recognition that she had definitely listened to far too much piano growing up. Brahms Intermezzo, though she couldn’t recognize which specific piece, she had remembered Schroeder, again with Schroeder today she thought, describing them as Bramns lullaby’s of grief. It was a beautiful rendition, she mused, leaning against the back of a booth as she listened.
Lucy stood to the back of the piano, the fallboard obstructed her view of the pianist, she could only see the occasional flick of their hand, but that didn’t bother her, she was just happy she could enjoy the full sound of the melody. When she closed her eyes she could hear each note even more crisply. She really wished this one moment was her whole life, she wondered if she had enough money to pay a man to follow her around with a piano. It would have to be a miniature piano, or maybe a miniature man. A miniature man on a miniature piano, sitting right on her left shoulder. She couldn’t stop a hushed chuckle from leaving her mouth, turning to her side so that a non-existent viewer wouldn’t think she was either rude, or a freak.
She swung herself upright again, brought back to attention by the lack of music and sparse sound of hands clapping. ‘Oh, the song’s over.’ she surmised, as she hastily started clapping her hands. The clapping subsided, and she was about to walk up to the player and hand him a tip, when the player stood up to bow, her smile stayed taut against her face as she traced his form all the way up to his face, before sinking to the floor as she did. It took a few moments of confusion that then morphed into a shocking realisation as she put his features together like a puzzle, eyes darting back and forth to each. Blonde hair, an out-of-fashion 50s haircut, a small upturned nose, soft jaw, light blue eyes—“Schroeder?”
Schroeder looked up at the utterance of his name, momentarily locking eyes with Lucy, and without even a single word or bit of hesitation, scooped his sheet music into his bag and hurried off. He began speeding toward the front of the restaurant. Lucy's shock quickly turned to anger, “What the hell?” She muttered to herself before trudging her own way through the crowd, practically stamping through with a blatant disregard that had been anxiety only minutes before. “No, no, no, no” she continued to murmur. ‘Why the hell was he the one running away?— not even ‘a hi Lucy!’, Not ‘what a coincidence Lucy!’ Not ‘it's been so long Lucy, wow how we’ve grown’ all that jazz. He ran away as if I was chasing him around like we were 8 years old! Unbelievable.’ She was utterly distraught as to why he was acting like this after so long, even after the breakup, he wasn’t childish like this, and it had been a whole 6 years! She pushed through the final wave of people, having just finished their meal, and popped out on the other side of the front door. She saw him now rounding the corner, briefcase in hand, slow in stride like he had just gotten away with a crime. Not this time he wasn’t.
She took a brisk pace up to the man and with all the restraint in the world didn’t tackle him to the ground, instead lightly grabbing his shoulder “Schroeder!” He jumped, shoulders high, and turned with a guilty look over his shoulders, “Lucy.” The piano from a few moments prior now came off as an elegant masking of the actual demeanor of the blonde man in front of her, he stood there disheveled, that is, compared to the image Lucy held of Schroeder in her mind, the one from six years prior. At the end of high school. When he stood confidently, sure of his future, and told Lucy that he’d see her again, but that he couldn’t put either of their lives on hold for a fantasy without proof of concept.
She was sure that he knew she would go far without him, but she couldn’t have imagined that bright 19-year-old boy would be playing piano for what was probably pennies in restaurants, sheet music spilling out of his bag. “Schroeder if it wasn’t for the tux, I would think you were a panhandler.” Schroeder puckered his lip in anger and pulled away from her grasp. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but Lucy was never one for keeping her thoughts restrained to her head. She followed after him, “Schroeder, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean- no wait- why am I apologizing? Maybe we both could have had better reintroductions if you hadn’t run away, I haven’t seen you in years! What’s up with you? Why didn’t you send me a letter or something if you were going to be in New York? I would had never turned down a visit-“ he kept walking, speaking in huffs “Its not exactly like I wanted to see you when my career is in the gutter, and for your information, I’ve been down here for two years now.” “Two years???? Last I heard of you, you were heading off to Berlin!” “I was! And I did, end of story.” “Not the end of the story, wait-“she grabbed his vacant hand “can you calm- can you please calm down? I have no clue why you’d be too embarrassed to see me, the only thing you’ve done to disappoint me so far is run.” He stopped and turned to her, still not meeting her gaze, sighing a large sigh, one that said ‘I give up’
Lucy momentarily hunched over to catch her breath, having been too caught up in the drama to let herself breathe after her mad dash. Lucy once again collected herself quickly. ‘Shit, my coats still in there’ she thought looking down at her watch, she had only about an hour if she didn't want to be late for filming “You really put a wrench in my dinner plans, it's pretty rude actually, and I’ve gotta get to my show in a bit, I say you join me. It’s the least you could do.” she surmised, giving him a knowing smile. He looked as if he was considering about a million articulated ways in which to respond, but realizing the time for that response was running short, he gave a weak “Sure.”
The waitress had given a relieved expression when Lucy had walked back into the restaurant, glad that her client hadn’t disappeared into thin air, but she had a moderately confused expression walking up to the table to take orders, probably noticing now, that her high-profile customer was now seated with the pianist who had just gotten off his shift. Lucy gave the woman her full dinner order, before she turned over to Schroeder who simply asked for another basket of bread and a glass of water. Lucy whispered over to Schroeder, “You're not going to eat?” “No I’m fine-“ “nonsense, Jesus, you just got off of work, I know that's not true” Lucy directed herself to the waitress “he’ll have some Käsespätzle, and Schroeder, are you sure you just want water?” “I'm sure”
The woman left and Lucy straightened out her suit before fixing her gaze back to Schroeder, who averted his eyes to his side, an obvious flush of shame still on his face. “Soo?” Schroeder looked back up at Lucy’s vague inquiry, he responded similarly “Hm?” “Tell me what you’ve been up to?” Schroeder almost couldn’t take the intensity of her brown eyes staring him down, shifting in his seat uncomfortably “I, uh, work here, along with a handful of other restaurants. It's actually not that bad, it pays pretty well. Not necessarily the ‘gutter.’” Lucy chimed in, “I wouldn’t think so!” She did think so, at least for Schroeder, for what she knew he could do, but at this Schroeder perked up a bit, which was exactly what she had intended.
The conversation devolved into idle chatter about what side of town he lived on, music he had been working on in his spare time, and continued as they ate. He never brought up what had happened in Berlin but she didn't press, it felt more and more comfortable between them as the conversation continued, and she wasn't ready for that newfound fondness between them to leave, not yet. This feeling was greatly distant from the shores of Lucy’s mind, not because it was that of their history together, but truthfully because Lucy had not had something so pleasant with someone she could truly call a friend, in what felt like far too long. She told him about her job, working as a big-time TV host, all the people she's met, the things she had achieved, everything she still wanted to do. What was usually a sales pitch was for once, an actual passionate, and genuine reflection of what she loved to do, to someone she once cared for deeply. At this rate, she had thought, just maybe, she could again.
“Yknow, it was actually pretty haunting when I first started seeing your face on billboards… I thought maybe I was going crazy, seeing you where you weren’t. It wasn't till I got a TV at my apartment that I actually believed what I was seeing.” The words fell out between chuckles at Lucy’s wisecracks, his eyes had a warm look to them drifting down to his hand as he absentmindedly traced the rim of his glass, his other arm lay loose against the table. Lucy absorbed every detail, they had long finished their food and were now simply enjoying each other’s presence. Caught up in the conversation, she was barely aware of how much time had passed, but frowned upon glancing down at her watch, “Shoot, I have to get going.” Schroeder looked back at her concerned “Did I make you late?” “What? No no, I'm just really dedicated to my schedule, I've got a 20-minute drive if I want to be there in time, I honestly just like being there a little early— I'm rambling.” She corrected herself, and considered something for a second “Would you be interested in coming to a taping? I could get you into the audience? Wait no that's stupid you probably wouldn’t want that, but I definitely want to introduce you to the house band.” Schroeder answered her again with a simple “sure” he smiled, “I would love all of that.”
Much too soon after she had called for their ride on the establishment's telephone, the car was waiting for them on the curb. Schroeder hesitated as he peered into the car, but soon after followed at Lucy’s beckoning gesture “Jesus, i usually just walk everywhere” “well, cant say i dont, but dans reliable for keeping time, not to mention i love the guy” she said gleaming over at the driver, a gruff, middle aged looking man with a tired face, who rolled his eyes back at her. “I can see why” spoke Schroeder in a quiet tone.
The drive to the studio began almost completely quiet, apart from the low volume radio, but there wasn't any awkwardness in the air. Lucy occasionally chatted with Dan, who gave back short responses, and she would every so often look to Schroeder for feedback or to bring him in on the topic. Twenty minutes later they rolled up to the CBS broadcast center, and Schroeder once again followed Lucy as she practically skipped inside.
Lucy showed him everything, she usually used the extra time before filming to catch up on materials, assure herself that she wouldn’t implode from anxiety, but today could be the exception. While motioning Schroeder to every location on set and off set that she deemed important, it was as if she was floating on air. With all this passion, She nearly felt like she was a teenager again. She refrained from introducing him to everyone on staff, since she knew Schroeder himself could be a very nervous man, something that was reconfirmed to her by their earlier meeting. Nowhere near as bumbling as Charlie Brown, but he tended to lock up in situations that required him to confront himself. Anyhow, he shouldn’t feel as though he needed to prove himself, he was her guest and that was proof enough.
The last place Lucy took him on his grand tour, was, as promised, the house band, that is the band that played at the beginning and end of every show. Although the band currently consisted of a myriad of empty chairs, a keyboard, and a drum set on an elevated platform; the band was apparently not set up yet, which she couldn’t criticize since she really didn’t know their schedule. She simply knew that they were there when she got on stage and stayed there till the end. “Well, introductions may have to wait, but you would love Tim, he’s our pianist— though I'd say his charisma is better than his playing.” Lucy thought to herself before speaking again “Though I have always, and I mean always wanted to have a grand piano at the center of the band, I just haven’t thought up a good enough reason to convince my producer of it.” Schroeder gave a baffled smile, “Is the notion of grand piano not reason enough?” “Thank you! That’s what I've been saying!” Lucy shouted out, before inciting volume control, “Honestly, it would give this whole set a bit of class.”
The remainder of the night happened as it should, Lucy put on a great set, interviewed a triad of B-list celebrities, gave life advice, but as Lucy looked out onto the live audience she focused her ending speech on the reserved smile of a blonde-headed man, and felt more fulfilled than she usually did. Schroeder greeted her backstage, offering her his hand as they talked all the way back out to the car, “You’ve gotten much better at telling people what they want to hear” spoke Schroeder, “you're just as wonderful at dealing pretty girls compliments” Lucy shot back. Schroeder paused in confusion as he opened the car door for her, “There’s pretty girls here? Where?” “Schroeder, you’d better be lucky I'm still considering giving you a ride home.” Schroeder was now caught by genuine confusion “ride home? Oh Lucy you don't have to, I was planning on walking home, I love night walks so it's not a problem.” Lucy scooted back out of the car as Schroeder spoke, “Well if you insist. Dan thank you, I won't be needing a ride back.” She brushed herself off as she stood up and began walking away, “Excuse me?” Asked Schroeder. Lucy turned to answer “You said you wanted to walk home? Let me join you, though we will be heading to my place first, you wouldn’t want a lady walking home all by herself, right?” Schroeder ran back to her side, recollecting himself “You're very difficult.” “As are you,” Lucy added.
The walk home was a beautiful one indeed, Lucy didn’t partake in night walks often, since being mugged was an inconvenience she was all too aware of. But two people could surely survive a little longer than one, even though Schroeder was lankier than she was. Lucy found herself bumping into Schroeder about a dozen times as they walked, head turned towards the stars, or rather, the lack of them due to all the light pollution. Lucy just couldn’t keep herself from peering into the dark above, it was a rest from the constant lights of Manhattan, even if it’s dull grayness couldn’t fully escape the lights either.
Upon arriving at the doors of Lucy’s residence, they stood together until Schroeder spoke “United nations plaza, huh? No notes, it’s a very Lucy spot.” he grinned flatly, staring up at the double buildings. “Well that's the best kind of rating” she responded gazing up similarly. They stayed like that until it became apparent that the silent tension was awkward. Schroeder uttered his goodbyes and turned to leave. Lucy stepped towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder as she had earlier that day, once again stopping him from leaving before she was ready. “Actually, I was going to ask sooner, I just thought maybe since it's gotten so late- ” she paused, rubbing her thumb against her palm.
“Do you want a house tour?”