Chapter 25 (Gustave's POV)

The next couple of years flew by before Papa and I even knew it. One morning I was a sixteen year old boy who was stuck fixing rides and painting set pieces, and the next, I was a nineteen year old businessman.

After I graduated high school, there was really no need for me to go on to college. Papa had taught me everything that I would ever need to know. I was to inherit the park after he passed. He had already made me an equal partner. Now that I look back on it, he was probably a brave man to let a nineteen year old take over half of America's most lucrative business.

I was sitting in my office paying bills when there was a little tapping at the door.

"Do come in," I said from my desk.

When the door opened, the most beautiful girl in the world was looking back at me with her pretty gray eyes.

"Elaina!" I exclaimed. I jumped from my desk. I knocked over some of the books that were sitting on the corner, and Elaina laughed at my enthusiasm.

She had gone to North Carolina after high school. Her grandmother lived there and was very sick. Elaina had been gone an entire year, and I missed her terribly. Often times, Papa would try to soothe me, but I would shut myself off in the theatre and play all of the pieces that I had ever written for her. Playing them made me feel like she was there with me.

I took her in my arms and spun her around before I finally dipped her down and kissed her hungrily. She pushed me away. "Gustave, that's quite naughty of you," she said giggling madly.

"Can you blame me?" I shrugged. "You've been gone for so long."

She took my hands in hers. "I know," she said, "It's been too long." She pecked me on my cheek, making me blush as I always did. "You have so much to tell me I'm sure," she whispered.

I pressed my forehead against hers. "I'm sure you have much to tell me as well," I said back gently.

She shook her head. "There's not much to tell. Gran lived out in the middle of nowhere. There was absolutely nothing to do! You can only imagine how torturous that was for me!"

She was right. I couldn't imagine Elaina being pinned up with nothing to do. Her creative imagination pretty much always allowed her to find some way of entertaining herself.

She began jumping up and down. "She didn't even have a piano, Gustave! There was no music! No music! It made me miss you terribly! I missed hearing you play." She tugged at my coat and rested her head on my chest.

I lifted her chin so I could see her face. "Then I suppose that we should soothe your craving for music shouldn't we?" I said smiling.

She nodded eagerly, and I began to pull her towards the theatre. I sat down at the organ throwing my tailcoats behind me and making Elaina giggle. I handed her one of my more recent works and directed her to stand center stage. I closed my eyes as I listened to her sing. The acoustics in the theatre amplified her voice to be ten times louder than it actually was.

Suddenly she stopped. I opened my eyes to see her staring off stage. Papa then came walking out of the shadows. I held my breath. Elaina had never seen, much less met, Papa before.

"Gustave, shouldn't you be working?" his voice boomed through the theatre.

I cringed. "I was just taking a break, Papa." I pointed to Elaina. "Look, Elaina's back from North Carolina. It's a special occasion. I'll finish everything tomorrow. I won't let anything get behind. I promise."

He nodded. "Alright, Gustave, but if I get a letter stating that I'm behind on payments, the blame is on you."

"The blame is on you," I mocked in his heavy French accent.

"Don't be smart with me, Gustave," he said grinning. "You may be a business partner to me now, but you're still my son."

"Yes, Papa," I said pouting.

He suddenly turned his attention to Elaina.

"Oh, umm, Papa, this is Elaina," I said timidly.

"Bonjour ma belle fille," my father said gently. He placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "Gustave says that you are quite the singer."

Elaina blushed. "I would hardly say that, Mr. Yousefi. I am nothing compared to Miss Daaé."

I could see my father's expression harden at the mention of my mother. Still, I knew that he was trying to be polite for my sake. He nodded and smiled at her. "She was a voice to hear," he said sadly, "and please, do call me Mr. Y."

She smiled. "Of course, Mr. Y."

He looked at me and counted me off. "Maestro, 1 2 3," he conducted.

I began to play and Elaina timidly began to sing. I watched as Papa adjusted her shoulders and torso. Elaina looked frightened at first, but she allowed him to do so. He lifted her chin and held his hands to her cheeks to adjust her vowels.

She finished the piece with the final note ringing perfectly through the theatre.

I smiled up at her from the orchestra pit. "That was beautiful, dear," I said in disbelief.

My father circled her and studied her. Elaina watched him nervously. He adjusted her torso and head once more and studied her again. He scratched his chin as he thought.

"Mademoiselle," Papa finally said to fill the silence, "you remind me of my favorite student."

"You were a vocal coach?" Elaina inquired.

"Yes, I was, and quite a successful one at that. May I interest you in a couple of lessons?"

"Oh, Mr. Y., I'd be honored, but I'm afraid that my family can't afford a vocal coach," she said sadly.

"Yes, there is the issue of payment," he replied. "I think I can let it slide. I offer you my knowledge free of charge."

"Mr. Y., I couldn't!" she exclaimed.

"If you insist," he continued, "how about we make a deal."

"What kind of deal? I must tell you Mr. Y, I'm not particularly good with business."

"I'll manage you," I said as I pulled myself out of the pit. "What's this about, Papa?"

"As I said before," he said, "you remind me of a student that I was incredibly fond of. Let me propose a deal. If you have about four or five lessons that go well, then you perform here for me."

Elaina's eyes lit up. She looked at me excitedly.

"It's up to you," I said smiling.

She nudged me in the arm. "I thought you were my manager!"

"Right," I said, "well, I believe that's a fine idea, but my client and I would like to know what she will be performing."

Papa laughed at me saying my client. "Well, we can discuss that when we find out just what she's capable of. Do we have a deal, Mr. Yousefi?" he said holding out his hand.

I shook it. "Please, Mr. Yousefi is my father. Call me Gustave."

Papa pointed his finger at me with the hand that I was not holding. "I told you not to be smart with me, my boy," he said sternly.

"Yes, Papa," I said.

Elaina giggled madly at that and shook my father's hand.

"Now why don't you take Elaina to your home and pick out a few pieces. We begin lessons tomorrow," he said. "Oh, and, Gustave?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"Do behave yourself."

I nodded and took Elaina by the hand. I led her through the park.

"You have your own place?" she inquired.

I nodded. "Papa and I built it together. As his equal business partner now, we decided that we needed to cover as much ground as possible, so my house is near the employee apartments. That way I can do a head count each morning."

"That's very impressive," she said as she snuggled into my side.

When we reached the house, I held the door open for her. I watched as she gazed around the house. It was quite impressive. I wanted the house to have traces of both my mother and father in it. The Persian carpets complimented the crystal chandeliers. The black furniture was brought out by the baby blue walls. The dark hallways opened up to light flooded rooms. Papa had designed the house to have perfect acoustics, and Elaina's heels echoed as they clicked on the wood floor.

"Gustave," she said, "this house is absolutely breathtaking! You must have put an awful lot of time into this."

I chuckled and removed my hat and mask. "It really didn't take all that long. I knew what I wanted it to look like from the start."

"However did your imagination come up with this?" she said in awe.

"Well, my father was spent a lot of time in Persia, so I have Persian carpets and quilts. He's partial to black furniture because he says it complements the piano, and he loves music," I said pointing to the little music notes engraved in the lining of the furniture. She ran her fingers down the delicate carvings. "You see, but my mother was quite different. Her favorite color was light blue. She loved how light captured the crystal in our chandeliers back in France, and for some reason that I'm not completely sure I understand, she loved angels." I gazed at the painting that was hanging on the wall of the old Swedish folk tale about the Angel of Music.

"Was your mother his student?" Elaina asked.

I nodded. "She was the student he was so partial to. You know the one he said that you reminded him of."

"Do I remind you of your mother, Gustave?"

"You do actually," I said. "You have the same longing for music and the same sense of kindness."

She smiled up at me as I said that.

"You're also gentle like her, and if your hair was curly, you'd look almost just like her."

"I can't remember what she looks like," Elaina said. "It's been so long since I saw her that night."

I picked up the performance photograph that the news reporter had given me a long time ago. It was framed in a light blue frame now with music notes and hearts that my father had carved into it. I handed it to Elaina.

"She was so beautiful," she said as she gazed at the photo.

I nodded in agreement. She sat the picture down back in its place, and I pulled her up the stairs to the music room. She gasped as she saw my many shelves of music. She ran her fingers down all of the files and notebooks. "This is all music?" she asked.

I nodded. "The first three shelves are mine and my father's compositions. The other one is Mozart, Bach, you know, the usual," I said shrugging.

"How do you ever find time to play all of this?"

"Oh, this is nothing. You should see my father's collection. By the time I was twelve, we had no more room in our house for the music. There's another library of music in the theatre that's nothing but his compositions."

Elaina's jaw dropped.

I laughed. "Pick out something to sing," I said as I pulled off my coat to get a little more comfortable.

She thumbed through the files until her eyes came across a leather bound notebook. "Isn't this the opera that the famous Phantom of the Opera appeared in?" she asked holding up the book.

I nodded.

"Wherever did you find a copy of this? I thought the Phantom himself composed it." She began flipping through the music. "This is absolutely brilliant work! Only a genius could compose something like this."

I sat and waited for the news to click with her.

"Your father composed this didn't he?" she asked suddenly.

I averted my eyes and nodded. "It was his Don Juan Triumphant," I muttered.

"Your father was the Phantom of the Opera? He's not a legend?"

I shook my head.

Elaina suddenly smiled. "I want to sing it!" she said excitedly.

I laughed and took the music from her. I began to play the duet. Our voices intertwined together as we sang. I closed my eyes and listened. The lyrics were a little mature for my taste, but the song was a magnificent piece of work.

As we finished the song, we looked into each other's eyes, and I could feel my heart trying to beat right out of my chest. Her lips parted slowly, and I kissed her. She pulled me up by my shirt, and I deepened the kiss. I pressed her up against the piano and several keys pressed down making a horrible noise. She leaned back and pulled me with her. Something new was coming over me. I had always tried to be a gentleman, but something about her made me lose control. I felt her fingers fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. I wanted so much to oblige, but my father's voice was in the back of my mind telling me to behave myself. I rolled my eyes and broke the kiss.

"What's wrong?" Elaina asked blushing.

I took her hands. "I love you, Elaina, I do, but I promised Papa that I would behave myself."

She smiled and nodded. "I'm sure you always have been a good son."

I smiled back at her and left a lingering kiss on her lips. "That doesn't mean that I can't take you out for dinner though."

She smiled and happily obliged. I buttoned my shirt back and pulled on my coat, hat, and mask. I offered her my arm, and we set off to spend some lost time together.