Meg was satisfied that all her bags were packed and ready for the voyage from New York to France. The countryside must be full of soft flowers at about this time, she could barely remember them now. She only wished she could return with her husband. But they weren't free, they had responsibilities now. A burgeoning company with people who relied on the business to eat. This place made so many people smile, that made the long hours worth it. She sighed, she'd be spending long hours on a boat with her seasick mother soon enough.
She went to where her husband was poring over his work. The sets for the new revue. Yellow and blue, and hints of pink. Her colors. She smiled, he still had the act of being a tough guy, but she knew how to melt him down. She tapped his shoulder, "Won't you escort a lady to her carriage?"
He turned on his stool to face her, "I told you, I can pay someone to help settle your cousin's estate, I truly don't see why you must leave at all."
"Family is family my dear, he was quite dear to us. Besides, there's no stopping my mother, you know as well as I. I can't in good conscience send her across an ocean by herself! I do love her, despite her problems, y'know?" Meg sat on his knee, balancing herself by putting a hand around the back of his head.
"I could go with-"
Meg sighed, "No, you can't. I'm already worried this place will fall apart without my mother and I, if you leave it'll probably fall right into the ocean. At this point, no whims, or at least not as many." She leaned forward and slipped his mask off, and set it aside. She was still deeply satisfied at the fact he didn't even flinch, even after all these years. She caressed the familiar bumps and grooves of the usually covered part of his face. Perfection. She gave him a deep kiss, smearing her rouge. She leaned back and brushed some loose hairs of his wig out of his face, "I will return my darling, and all shall be well."
He kissed her hand, "You cannot blame me for wanting you to stay. Adieu, my love."
Meg untangled herself from him, and had an idea. She went over to her drawer of ribbons, and pulled out one she rarely used. A long red one. She found some scissors and cut it neatly in half, and walked back over to his side. She tied one around his wrist, "I know you need those hands for so many things, when you look them, think of me." She held out her wrist, and he took the other half of the ribbon and tied it to her.
She smiled at him, "Come on, don't make me carry my bags!"
He stood, and slipped the mask back on. He picked one up, not even surprised at the weight at this point. She hooked one of her arms around one of his, and they walked out together. She held on tight, "I will rush back as fast as the waves can carry me."
Later, when she settled into her accommodations on board the ship, she touched the ribbon for reassurance with her fingertips, content that her husband, probably brooding in his room, was doing the same.