The Phantom's Restoration

Greetings, gentle reader! After an absense of 13 years (no, I wasn't in prison or inpatient mental health facility lol) I have finally dragged my must back kicking and screaming to get around to finishing this story. I originally published the first seven chapters of this back in 2005 under my old account Solitairebbw218 as Restoration of the Soul, which unfortunately I no longer have access to as the email for it was deleted. That being said, I have revamped it and expanded/edited it as I go. There will be short bits of song lyric here and there but this is not a songfic as such. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that if you do you will please R & R!

As always, I do not own any of the characters from POTO, only those I create in my own mind. This story is primarily rated T but may contain chapters rated M for mature subject matters and language, but those will be clearly noted.

Chapter One: Opportunity of a Lifetime

(Late September...)

"Really, this is a fantastic opportunity, my dear, and truthfully, Vinson Gallery could use the exposure acception such a commission could bring us. A good recommendation from such a wealthy client would do wonders for our reputation." The white-haired owner leaned back in his ancient swivel chair, elbows resting on the worn padded leather arms as he steepled his fingers as addressed his admittedly favorite employee.

Juliette Murphy looked across the cluttered desk at the man she had looked on as a sort of foster father for the past half dozen years, her gaze slightly troubled as she considered the offer he was discussing. An overnight FedEx package had arrived just this morning after a call received by their gallery only yesterday, and the six-figure amount offered to the small gallery in Wentachee for the work was enough to make anyone stand up and take notice.

"I can't argue with you there, Max, but I have to wonder, why us? I know there are quite a few equally qualified art restoration services in Europe. I could name a dozen right off hand who would sell their souls or their first born child for a choice assignment of this magnitude...why chose a relatively unknown company halfway across the globe?"

"Apparently Mr. Levier heard about the work our gallery, and you in particular, did on the miniature collection at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art last year. I know Alan and Monica have more experience than you, but Alan just began another project and there's no way Monica can take off for the Continent for an extended assignment with the twins still in diapers. Besides, you're the only one on staff who speaks fluent French, so the job is yours if you want it. Honestly, Jules," He smiled as he gazed fondly at his protege."I have every confidence in your ability...I know you'd never let me or the gallery down."

His voice softened, taking on an almost cajoling tone. "And just think...you'd be spending months in a lovely chateu in the French countryside, collecting a nice commission, giving our gallery an amazing amount of prestige, not to mention how good it would look on your resume! Oh, don't give me that look, young lady.." He chuckled at her scowl. "You can't tell me your life's ambition is to sit around cleaning paintings til the end of your days. You've got talent creating art as well as restoring it, and nothing would please me more than to see your work adorning our walls or those of your own gallery some day." When she rolled her eyes and shook her head, he leaned back with a sigh, knowing this was one argument he wouldn't win.

"All right, all right, I know when I'm beating a dead horse." He leaned over and picked up a manila folder and passed it across his messy desk. Jules opened it and found a list describing the various pieces of art to be restored, their sizes, composition and medium, as well as a set of glossy 8 x 10 photos of the works. She glanced through them with interest as he continued. "I admit, I was thrilled when we got the call. Its not every day we get an offer to restore a collection of artwork hidden beneath a Paris opera house for heaven-only knows how long. The vaults were discovered by accident when the new owner decided to gut the building prior to renovation. I'm glad they decided to restore it rather than just knock it down or they might never have been found."

Max reached for his coffee to wet his dry throat, grimacing at its coldness and quickly put it down before continuing. "Some speculate that the art was tucked there for safe keeping prior to Hitler's invasion of France in 1944 but I have my own theory." Jules heard something in his voice that made her look up from the photos, her blue green eyes narrowing slightly as she waited impatiently for him to continue. "You'll notice that a great many of the pieces show signs of smoke damage. Now, some of that may come from normal exposure to coal or wood smoke from fireplaces, candle, lamps, etc. but the extensive damage those show is more likely from a structure fire."

"Now, I did some quick checking after we got the call, and while the Opera Populaire did suffer some minor structural damage from bombing during World War II, it only suffered one fire on record...back in 1870. " At her surprised look, he chuckled. "Yes, my dear, even an old timer like me can consult Google if the need arises. Anyway, It's my belief that those art works were present during that event. Also, you may have noted in the description that three of the pieces when examined appear to have been painted over, which was sometimes done to disguise famous works during the Revolution."

Max caught the gleam of interest in her eyes and held back a grin. ::Come on, little fishie...You've got the bait in your mouth...now it's time to set the hook and reel you in!:: he thought as he studied the attractive and talented young woman for a moment, putting on his most earnest expression as he leaned forward, his chair squeaking in protest. "I know you've been searching for the perfect opportunity to prove to yourself and to the world that you are more than just David Phelp's daughter." Her eyes flashed and she stiffened...::mission accomplished!:: flashed in his mind before he continued. "So what do you say, Jules? I have the utmost faith in your abilities...the real question is, do you?"

She was silent for a moment as she contemplated the file, then met his gaze evenly. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want the job, but I'd like to sleep on it and let you know tomorrow if you don't mind. May I keep this?" At Max's nod and smile, she rose and exited his office, her mind whirling. Although she told him she needed time, she was already preparing mental lists of what supplies she would need to request and what she'd need to pack. Luckily she had no plants to water or pets that would need boarding for however many months she would be away. She smiled at the thought of strolling through the Louvre...::ironic...when I could afford it I wasn't allowed to travel, and when I was free I was too busy working and didn't have the time or funds::

Max Vinson watched his protege fondly as she left, her mind obviously elsewhere as she absentmindedly bumped into the water cooler, chuckling when he heard her softly curse. He was unsurprised when he found her waiting in his office bright and early the next morning, and was smiling like the proverbial Chesire cat as he had his secretary connect him with the gallery's new client in Paris.

Grew up in a small town, And when the rain would fall down

I would stare out my window...

Dreaming of what could be, And if I'd end up happy

I would pray (I would pray)

Trying hard to reach out, But when I tried to speak out

Felt like noone could hear me

Wanted to belong here, But something felt so wrong here

I would pray (I would pray)

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

I'll do what it takes til I touch the sky

I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change

And breakaway...

Out of the darkness and into the sun

But I won't forget the ones that I loved

But I'll take a risk, take a chance, make a change

And breakaway...

(Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson)

Juliette glanced up from the magazine she had been flipping through absently to stare out the cabin window into the night sky. The full moon reflected brightly in the vast, fluffy looking clouds that stretched as far as the Atlantic ocean far below the fast moving jet.

It was still hard for her to believe that she had accepted the job and was stepping out into the unknown. Had it only been two weeks since she had accepted the position of art restorationist for the works found beneath the Opera Populaire? The time had flown by quickly as she made arrangements for the needed supplies to be shipped, her work visa secured, renewed her passport and to have her mail forwarded. She had fretted a bit about how much to pack, but in the end decided that the three suitcases wasn't excessive given the amount of time she was expecting to stay in France. Restoration was painstaking work, and given the number of pieces she might possibly be staying for six months or more and had packed accordingly.

It had been a long day...first the commuter flight from Wentachee to Seattle-Tacoma International where she boarded the longer flight to LaGuardia. The big surprise had come after she arrived at the Customs desk...rather than being allowed to pass through to her intended flight she was instead taken to a small waiting room. Seeing her alarm and confusion, her guide quickly assured her that all was well and simply stated that alternate travel arrangments had been made for her comfort. Shortly thereafter she was whisked by car to a waiting Gulfstream V at one of the private smaller adjacent airstrips. She had known her gallery's client was wealthy, but she hadn't expected royal treatment. Her father's company had a similar jet for corporate travel, and she guessed correctly that they ran somewhere in the 8 figures.

The buttery leather seats of the jet were comfortable but Juliette was too wired to relax, even tho she knew she was going to have one heck of a case of jet lag. She had lost track of how many time zones she had gone through, and knew she would probably sleep for a day straight once her burst of adrenaline wore off.

Her thoughts drifted back once more to her upcoming work and what awaited her. ::Max was certainly right about one thing...this kind of opportunity was too good to pass up and if , no when, I succeed I will finally prove that I'm not just some spoiled little rich girl going through a "rebellious phase" where art was concerned.::

She readily admitted to herself that she had been spoiled rotten as a teen. She had always been artistic, and her parents had indulged her by allowing her to attend the High School for the Performing and Visual Arts where she blossomed. During her summer breaks she was a "mall-hopping, tennis playing, trend setting, cellphone chatting, Mercedes convertible-driving debutant; it was a fairly accurate description, but being the only daughter of one of the Northwest's wealthiest families didn't come without a price.

It was the summer after her graduation when she learned the hard way that money didn't guarantee happiness. She had just turned 19 and she was head over heels in love with Jacob, a fellow student who was majoring in film. The young man she had given her heart and her virginity to was deemed "unsuitable" by her parents, but she had adamantly refused to break of their relationship. It might have been his liberal political beliefs, his semi-gothic angsty artist style, or his lack of any solid financial prospects that made her parents decide to take matters into their own hands. For whatever reason, they rectified the situation by "buying off" her beau with a check for $500,000 and a binding legal contract agreeing not to have any further contact with their daughter.

She was left with a note that said simple..."Dear Jules, sorry but we would have never worked. We're too different and I would never fit in your world. I need to be free to pursue other opportunities. Thanks for everything, love, Jacob." To say she was crushed was an understatement; it was worse when she found herself blocked from his phone and his social media accounts so had no way of reaching out for answers. When she found out from friends that he had bought a brand new car and was living it up in LA, she grew suspicious and was determined to learn the truth. She had confronted her parents, who didn't hesitate to show her the cancelled check to prove to her her lover's faithlessness. That night, a broken-hearted young woman learned that the money she had always relied on for security and comfort could also be used to destroy happiness as well.

Frome that point on, Juliette was determined that she was going to make it on her own without her parents interference, and up to this point she had been moderately successful. To her parent's dismay and ire, she had turned down the Ivy-League education her parents had been pressuring her to accept, handed them back the keys to her Mercedes, packed her things and walked away. She even went so far as to change her last name legally to that of her Irish grandmother, Murphy, before disappearing off the radar.

She sold her finer jewelry and used her savings to buy a 4 year old, one owner used Toyota Camry and to rent a one bedroom studio apartment. She then set about continuing her education, and was admitted to the Fine Arts program at Washington State using student loans and an academic scholarship thanks to her GPA. Since she had managed to earn many of her core freshman college credits in her senior year at HSFTVAPA, and was able to test out of others, she was able to bypass her freshman year altogether, relieved at not having to spend her first year in the dorms. She managed to hold down a couple of part time jobs during the three years it took her to graduate before applying for and being accepted to an internship at Vinson Gallery in Watachee. The only real contact she had with her parents was the Christmas card she sent them each year to let them know she was doing well; she had never forgiven them for their actions, nor had they asked forgiveness for doing what they felt was "the right thing". Not surprisingly, her parents did somehow managed to track her down despite her name change- she still received occasional letters and checks trying to bribe her back into the fold, checks which she promptly returned uncashed.

Now at 27, life was good for Juliette Murphy, the former Paris Hilton of Bremerton, WA, and it looked like it was about to get a whole lot more interesting...