With an icy overcast, the morning wind blew hard, scattering everything in its path. The leaves danced in the sky, dressed in fall colors. A golden carriage pulled up on the bustling street, stopping in front of a large building. Both sides of the carriage were surrounded by other carriages. Men dressed in red unloaded luggage and escorted men and women inside out of the wind.
Raoul de Changy wasted no time stepping out of his carriage. After spending hours riding in the carriage's cramped quarters, he was ready to stretch his legs. His dainty wife, Christine, followed his lead. Stepping softly out of the carriage, she touched his arm. Together, they silently stared at the building known as the Opera Populaire. They had been away for a very long time.
Their daughter, Chrissie, wrapped her coat tightly around her, gathered her skirts about and descended the carriage. Her feet plopped on the cobble streets, breaking the silence. She glanced at the opera house before asking, "Why we are here again, mother?"
Christine turned to look at her daughter. "We've told you Chrissie, a opera house reunion is being held in honor of the building's reconstruction." In a lower voice she added, "It looks exactly as it did before."
Looking away, the girl grimaced. She had enough clothing packed for three weeks time, but she doubted the opera house could hold her attention that long.
Smiling fondly at his daughter, Raoul answered her silent question. "Don't worry little Chrissie, I think you'll find some way to enjoy yourself. I have faith in you that within a few days, you'll have found trouble." A frown creased across his forehead. "I wonder…"
Christine met her husband's gaze. She shook her head.
Chrissie resisted the childish urge to glare at her parents. She hated when they kept secrets from her, especially when they spoke right in front of her.
"Isn't it magnificent?" Christine finally asked.
"It's very, big." Chrissie stumbled. In a sudden blast, the wind blew off her hood. Her skits swirled up, and she had to fumble to keep them down
One of the men dressed in red beckoned to the family as two more began to unload luggage from the carriage. As they walked up the steps leading to the wide, open doorway, Chrissie took in her surroundings. The large building was impressive, she noted. The walls looked as if they were gold. Dozens of tiny windows wove in and out between the walls. But the way her parents had spoke of it, Chrissie had half expected the Opera house to look like heaven itself. She suspected that it was not the building but memories and emotions that had made her parents go on and on.
Inside, the entryway was crowed. It seemed that more than a few people had decided to attend the reunion. She was surprised to note that in addition to the men and women dressed in rich clothing, many middle class citizens also wandered about. They seemed very out of place; never had she seen such a place as elegant as the Opera Populaire, save Versailles which she had seen only once a very long time ago. The sparkling staircase looked as if it had cost a million francs by itself.
An obese woman wrapped in a fur coat bumped into Chrissie. Caught off balance, she stumbled forward. Reflexively, she grabbed onto Raoul's arm to steady herself. For the hundredth time, she envied her mother. Christine was known for her grace and poise, and had no trouble keeping her balance. The gift of grace had not been bestowed upon Chrissie, despite the dance training she had received early on in her childhood.
"Careful Chrissie, I wouldn't want you to fall and be trampled." Raoul winked at her.
"That would not be very dignified." Chrissie agreed.
"There are worse things than to lose your dignity, even in Paris. How do you like the opera house?"
"There are a lot of chandeliers." She murmured, still awestruck.
Raoul laughed. "That there are my dear. Remember though, you haven't even seen the stage yet." He turned to his wife, only to discover she was already chatting with an old friend.
From behind her Chrissie heard her mother introduce her to someone named Meg. Quickly she turned to face the pair seeing a blond woman her mother's age. Politely, she smiled and curtsied.
"Oh Christine, she looks just like Raoul!" Meg gushed, smiling at her friend.
"Yes she is a splitting image of him. They have the same hair, and she also has his eyes."
Chrissie held in a sigh. These conversations were getting old. Everyone was always astonished that Chrissie looked nothing like her mother. In the back of her mind she wondered how many introductions she would be forced to endure over the next weeks. Her attention strayed to her surroundings. A man in red was directing people to go up the stairs to the bedrooms that had been added in the renovation. After the reunion the opera house would be used primarily as a hotel for tourists. Most of the opera house had been completely redesigned, however, some of the original structure had remained in place such as the hallways and corridors near the old ballet dormitories.
"How old are your children?" Christine asked Meg. Chrissie recognized the hint of jealousy in her voice. When Chrissie had been born, the physician who delivered her had predicted she wouldn't survive. Yet, even though she was a tiny and sick baby, she lived. The physician had called her a miracle. Unfortunately, Christine was not able to have anymore children, leading her to become extra protective of Chrissie, her only daughter.
"Beau is near sixteen. Quite a handsome young fellow, I might add. He takes after his father that way. Aimee is twelve and Sophia is seven. How old is Chrissie?"
"Chrissie is fifteen; it's amazing how fast she is growing up. Though I must admit she has a very sharp tongue." Christine smiled. "Remind you of anyone?"
Meg laughed. "When we were children you were timid at times, but on occasion you were very bold." Turning to Chrissie she grinned. "Remind me to tell you some stories of your mother later. Did she ever tell you about the time she stole a cake from the kitchen to feed a flock of blue birds?"
Her eyes widened. It was hard for her to imagine her mother as being anything other than dignified and calm.
"Let's not inspire Chrissie to cause any more trouble." Christine blushed at the reminder of the memory. "Can you believe it's really been seventeen years since the fire?" Her voice was filled with wonder.
"I don't want to believe it was so long ago. In a way it was a lifetime ago, yet it could have been last year. Seventeen years sounds like a very long time."
Raoul cleared his throat. "Ladies, I don't mean to interrupt but there will be plenty of time to catch up later. For now let's find out where we will be staying. Our luggage should already have been delivered."
Christine and Meg hugged each other while Chrissie took a step forward towards the stairs. The crowd was beginning to thin as more people found their way upstairs or migrated out the door though the sound of voices loudly echoed off the high ceiling.
"Do you know which operas will be performed during the week?" She asked him as they walked.
"I believe the schedule will be announced today at dinner. I'm hoping to see a mix of classics and a few new operas that are touring in this area." He responded while taking Christine's arm in his.
When they discovered the suite Chrissie was again taken back by the fine furnishings inside. She was accustomed to wealth but even the mere color of the walls looked fantastic. The tables, chairs and couches were worth more than Chrissie could imagine. The maids had already lit the fireplace and drawn hot baths in the bathrooms adjourning the bedrooms.
Quickly, she shed her heavy garments and allowed the water to soothe her skin and aching muscles. The carriage ride from Lyon had been rough.
The bath water smelled sweet. The scent was violet, her favorite flower. The room was decorated with roses and candles and the scene was very relaxing. Because a maid wasn't around, she bathed herself. She took her time untying her hair ribbons and taking out her hair pins. Long hair swirled down into the water. Her hair was a dirty-blonde color unlike her mother who had dark brown locks. Also, Christine's hair was all curls while Chrissie's was bone straight.
Time passed quickly, and all too soon the water lost its heat. Chrissie dried herself with a rose scented towel. Carefully, she squeezed the water out of her hair before braiding a lose braid down her back. After ten hours of traveling she was exhausted. Raoul had arranged for them to travel the five hundred kilometer distance during the night. Rest inside the carriage had been nearly impossible.
Eager to take a nap she quickly slipped on her silk night gown and lay on the violet bed coverlet. She climbed under the blankets letting the morning events sink in. Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.
