THE QUOTE:

Charm is the quality in others that makes us more satisfied with ourselves.

MADE BY:

Henri Frederic Amiel

Napoleon strolled down the Village street on his way to Illya's apartment building. It was an unusually pleasant August Saturday; gorgeous blue sky, puffy white clouds peeking around the skyscrapers and low humidity. Hands shoved in his pants pockets with his unbuttoned suit jacket flowing out behind him as he moved, many women (and a few men) noted his passing by with a short nod or a quick smile, some of which he acknowledged with a nod or smile of his own. But even the ones whose greetings he returned saw that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes and not one person was brave enough to approach him.

He turned onto Illya's block and even from the corner, he recognized the long blond hair of his partner. He was sitting on his stoop with one of his neighbors, a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties if Napoleon was any judge. He slowed his pace slightly as he observed the two of them were happily and animatedly engaged in conversation. That must be Mrs. Campbell, the woman who picks up his mail sometimes, he thought as he drew closer, I don't think I've ever seen Illya smile so much!

"Good afternoon, Eddie," Napoleon said, using Illya's alter – ego's name, "Are you going to introduce me to your lovely companion?"

The woman giggled like a schoolgirl and remarked, "My goodness, Eddie, is your friend as charming as you are?"

Illya leaned toward her and smiled conspiratorially. "No," he stage – whispered so Napoleon could hear. Louder he said, "Mrs. Edna Campbell, may I present my friend and sometime business partner, Navarre Solange."

Napoleon gallantly leaned forward and took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Enchanté,Mrs. Campbell." He thought Illya had spoken with an exaggerated British accent during his introduction and when he spoke again he was sure of it.

"Edna and I were speaking of her love life."

Napoleon smiled broadly as he sat on the other side of the woman who was blushing and laughing. "Please call me Edna," she said between snickers, "I have to tell you, Navarre, your friend Eddie here is the most wonderful man in the world! If I were thirty years younger…"

"Oh? Do tell! I'm all ears."

To Napoleon's surprise, she reached for Illya's hand and held it in both of her own. "My Walter died about a year before Eddie moved next door to me. I loved that man so much that I just didn't want to live anymore without him. I was just going through the motions."

Napoleon gave her his full attention. "And how did Eddie here change that?" he asked.

"Well, after he moved in, he would speak to me whenever he saw me. At first, I wouldn't answer, but he persisted. 'Good morning, Miss,' 'Good afternoon, Miss' every time he saw me until I felt obligated to say something back."

Illya laughed, "The first thing she ever said to me was 'I am old enough to be your mother; my name is Mrs. Campbell!' After that, I called her Mrs. Campbell."

"Until one day, my cat slipped past me as I opened my door to take out my garbage. That darn cat wouldn't come when I called and she kept darting away. Eddie heard me in the hallway and came out to see what was happening. He grabbed Pepper and handed that bad kitty to me and then without my asking, took my garbage to the incinerator. We started chatting and I told him I adored his English accent. He told me he's a musician. Our friendship grew from there."

Napoleon winked at Illya and said, "And that's when you two started dating?"

She let go of the blond's hand long enough to pinch the brunet's arm. "You are terrible! I did like the idea of knowing a real English musician since they're all the rage right now."

Napoleon's eyebrows shot upwards. "Oh?"

"Oh, yes; like the Beatles, the Dave Clark Five, Gerry and the Pacemakers. A couple of the younger women in the building are actually jealous that Eddie speaks to me and has invited me a few times to come hear him play! Anyway, I eventually told him about my Walter and Eddie said that I was young enough to have love a second time. I didn't believe him, but I was just now telling him that I've met someone and it's all thanks to him."

The Russian blushed then and muttered, "I did not do anything, Edna."

"Of course, you did! You kept encouraging me and telling me all those wonderful lies about how beautiful and smart and attractive I am and encouraging me to go out and do things."

"They are not lies."

"You are so sweet! Isn't he, Navarre?"

"Downright saccharine."

That earned him another pinch from Edna. "Don't make fun of Eddie!" she mock chastised, "This young man here has always been a doll to me. Eddie makes me feel like I'm special. In fact, I met Bill when I went to see Eddie play at The Village Gate three months ago. He offered to buy me a drink and we had a very nice conversation. We've been seeing each other ever since. I never would have met him if Eddie hadn't made me feel better about myself."

Napoleon leaned back and caught the Russian's eye behind Edna's back. "That is quite an interesting tale, Edna and I'm so glad my buddy here could help you get back in the swing of things. However, he and I have business we need to discuss, so with your permission, I'm going to steal him away."

Illya stood and kissed Edna's cheek. "I am so pleased that you have found someone new. Enjoy the rest of your day, Edna," he said as he led the way upstairs followed by Napoleon.

After Illya had reset his alarms and joined his partner at his table, Napoleon said, "You definitely have a fan in Edna, Tovarisch. That was a nice thing you did bolstering her self – confidence."

The Russian shrugged. "Someone once said: 'Charm is the ability to make someone think that both of you are quite wonderful.' I think she is a nice person and now, this Bill thinks so, too. All I did was convince her to be social again."

"You have a compassionate side to you I was unaware of; I think I'm going to start a rumor at work that the Ice Prince is kind to little old ladies and plays matchmaker for them."

"You do and I will make your life so miserable, you will beg the Old Man to transfer you to Antarctica," he snarled.

Napoleon waggled his eyebrows. "There's my Illya! You do know that I would make you transfer with me?"

"I prefer cold weather. Do you?"

"Point taken. Let's get to work."