Chapter 7: The Inn

"Perros! Pulling into Perros!" The conductor called, walking down the hallway.

Two days had passed amiably on the train, the group relaxing in the drawing room. Erik spent time huddled at the writing desk, taping out rhythms and being his usual anti-social self. Christine at a distance. She enjoyed those quiet moments. She tried to keep her distance from Erik. Even after their social evening in the dining car, he had craved inside himself, rarely talking to anyone. She had thought about asking him for… well, anything. She just wanted to hear him talk. She had been scared off when Raoul had tried to ask him something and Erik had very nearly ripped his head off. Christine settled with reading quietly nearby, curled into a chair while Erik hummed unknown melodies under his breath. Once she had picked up on the pattern and sang along softly under her breath. It must have upset him because he stopped composing near her.

Presently, Meg and Raoul were grinning ear to ear, eager to reach their destination.

"Good morning!" Meg said cheerfully after the conductor had passed by.

"How did you sleep?" Raoul asked, bundled up in a variety of winter wear. The others were dressed similarly, ready to disembark.

"Like a baby," Meg said. "I always sleep well on trains."

The train lurched and Christine stumbled to the side into Erik's chest. He caught her, his arm around her waist, holding for a moment before hastily removing his arm.

"Thank you," Christine said and he just nodded. She looked down at the floor and Meg winced.

"Let's go see what we can see from the viewing platform," she said, grabbing Raoul's arm and dragging him down the hall.

"We need a plan," she said once they were a safe distance away. "She's too slow."

Raoul snorted. "She's racing a half dead snail. She can't be any slower than that."

"I suppose our work's cut out for us," Meg said with a sigh, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure they weren't following.

"I have a plan though," he said as he reached the door. "Meg, look! Erik! Christine! We took the wrong train!"

"What?" Meg cried, coming up behind him.

"Look, it's all green!"

Sure enough, the train rolled past mountains covered with pine trees, not a speck of snow in sight. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly above them. The only sign that it was winter was the harsh wind that nipped that any exposed skin.

Christine seemed unfazed by the weather. "There's a saying here that if you wait thirty minutes the weather will change. I'm sure it will snow soon. It's certainly cold enough to."

Erik's brow furrowed. "Are you cold?"

Before she could say anything he removed his scarf and carefully wound it around her neck.

"Is that better?" He asked and Christine nodded, baffled by the gesture. Radio silence for days and now his scarf had been affectionately(?) wrapped around her neck.

"Yes, thank you," she responded, sounding rather breathless. Meg and Raoul exchanged a look and a smile.

"Maybe they'll move faster than we thought," she whispered as they stepped onto the platform.

"A real Christmas miracle," Raoul muttered, following her onto the platform.

"Car for Garnier Inn!" A voice called.

"That's us," Christine said with a smile, hurrying towards the vehicle. "Hey Fred."

"Oh, Christine! I didn't realize I was picking you up. Usually Artie gets you," a boy, probably in his late teens and apparently named Fred, said to her and gave her a hug. "Let me take your bags."

Christine handed him her luggage. "I know but we have more people and Mama was going to be busy preparing the rooms. We spoke on the phone last night. I'm surprised she didn't tell you."

"Naw, I had dinner with my sister and her family last night," he said.

"That's nice," Christine said. She noticed that the rest of her group had caught up and Fred greeted them all amiably, perhaps Erik a little less so, causing Christine to frown. They piled into the car and Fred drove them back to the inn.

"This is adorable!" Meg cried as they pulled up. "And you can see right out over the lake from all the way up here."

"What a view," Raoul said, climbing out of the car. Christine smiled proudly and moved to get out of the car. Erik offered his hand and she gladly took it as she stepped out.

"Thank you," she said. "This is home."

"Christine!" A teenage girl burst out of the front doors and charged Christine. She staggered backwards and was engulfed by the girl's bearhug.

"Everyone, this is Celia," Christine said, hugging her back and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Celia, this Meg who you've heard of, and these are our… friends Mr. Raoul de Chagny and Mr. Erik Destler."

Celia's eyes widened at the names and she stared, star struck, at them before Christine cleared her throat.

"Oh! I apologize. I'm just a big fan," she said.

"It's a pleasure," Raoul said, extending his hand. "You seem like a charming young lady."

Celia shook his hand and smiled. "Thank you!"

"Celia!" A shrill voice called from inside. "Who are you talking to? Put your coat on!"

An older woman, towards the end of middle aged, came out the door, carrying a thick wool coat. She draped the coat around Celia's shoulders and straightened her glasses.

"Christine!" She cried and pulled her into a hug. Christine hugged her tightly and bent slightly to give her a kiss on the cheek. Lillian Valerius was the only person she knew who was shorter than her.

"How are you, Mama?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm doing wonderfully. Better now that you're here," she said and looked around at the others. "Bring your friends inside before we all catch our deaths out here."

Inside, Lillian gathered them around the fireplace. There was only a loveseat and one armchair, as the other one was broken, so Christine insisted that she was comfortable on the floor. Meg noticed she happened to be leaning against Erik's chair.

"You must be Meg," Lillian said to her, bustling in with a tray laden with snacks and tea for them. "Christine's told us all so much about you."

"Who else is here?" Meg asked. "We met Celia outside."

"Well, only one other person at the moment, Celia's grandfather, Arthur. And the gentlemen are our only two paying customers," Lillian said and gave them a grateful smile.

"We thought there would be more snow," Raoul said with a grin. "Where are you hiding it all?"

"We haven't had snow since Thanksgiving," Lillian said.

"That was the preamble," Christine said. "Once it starts snowing for real it won't stop until April, if we're lucky."

"A shame if we were snowed in," Meg said, mostly to Raoul, who shook his head as if he couldn't think of a worse fate.

"A real shame," he bemoaned. "Forced to spend all of our time with you lovely ladies, right Erik?"

"Yes, it would," Erik said, almost as if it was the worse fate he could think of. Christine frowned slightly and he corrected his statement. "I mean being snowed in. Not spending time with you."

The back door opened then and an older man entered with an arm load of fire wood, followed by Celia who was carrying some kindling.

Erik did a double take before jumping to his feet and saluting. "General Shepard!"

Raoul scrambled to his feet when he saw and saluted as well. "Private de Chagny, sir, at your service, sir!"

"At ease soldiers. We keep the general part quiet around here," the general said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Why? Begging your pardon sir!" Raoul said, wringing his hands.

"People don't expect a major general to carry firewood," Shepard said lightly as he set the wood down in the box beside the fireplace.

"You're a janitor now?" Raoul gasped, looking him over. He was wearing a pine green button down tucked into gray slacks with a blue cardigan finishing the ensemble off. Looked like every grandfather in America.

This made Shepard laugh. "Worse. I own the place."

"A landlord?!" Raoul yelped and Erik rolled his eyes.

"Best decision of his life," Christine said with a grin as she stood up. It was Lillians turn to roll her eyes. "How are you Artie?"

"Oh, Christine!" Arthur cried. "I didn't see you there on the ground. What is a lovely young lady such as yourself doing sitting on the floor?"

"There weren't enough seats and because I'm sort of playing hostess, I figured it was polite," she explained. "I was wondering where you were. I wanted to introduce you to everyone, but it's a small world and I guess you know everyone but Meg."

"The famous Meg Giry," he said, grinning at her. Meg smiled and tossed her pony tail over her shoulder.

"Charmed, General," she said.

"Oh, call me Arthur, or Artie like Christine does. Mr. Shepard if you're feeling formal," he insisted and Meg nodded.

"Charmed, Arthur," she corrected with a smile.

Christine linked her arm through Raoul's and gave it an affectionate pat. "I've told you about Raoul too. He was my neighbor from New Orleans."

"I do remember! We heard many tales about you. The fearless scarf rescuer," Arthur said. "Should I remember Mr. Destler from your past as well?"

Christine turned her head to look at Erik and noticed he looked… she didn't know. He wasn't looking at her, but his arms were crossed and his fists were clenched. His face looked calm enough but she could see a frown forming and something in his eyes. An emotion she couldn't quite place.

"No," Christine said, attracting Erik's attention. She slipped her arm out from Raoul's and made her way over to Erik. "Erik is new."

"How exciting," Arthur said. "I would love to stay and talk, but unfortunately I have kitchen duty."

Arthur left and Christine watched as he went.

Once he was gone she pulled an envelope out of her pocket. It had significant girth, but nothing too impressive.

Lillian reluctantly took the envelope. "You promise you have enough for yourself?"

"I promise," Christine said. "Anything to keep this place afloat."

"You're a treasure, darling," Lillian said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She pocketed the envelope and gathered up the empty tea cups and left the four of them alone.

"What was that about?" Raoul asked when she was gone.

"The inn isn't the most successful business, so I bring money home to help contribute," Christine explained with a shrug.

"We can help somehow," Raoul said. "There must be something we can do… call in a favor or something."

Erik furrowed his eyebrows.

"We'll go to New York in the morning."

The other Meg and Raoul spoke loudly at the same time in protest, but he didn't hear them. He saw disappointment fill Christine's eyes.

"Don't leave yet," she murmured. He reached out to touch her when Raoul's voice suddenly cut through.

"-problem is here, now! We don't have time to go to New York!" he was saying. "We need a way to get a bunch of people up here, and fast."

"Everyone calm down!" Erik yelled, then he lowered his voice. "If we go to New York, we can get him connections, figure a deal out for him."

"We don't have time for that!" Raoul said again. "We need… oh I don't know."

"This place needs a real dynamite act," Meg said, leaning back.

"On such short notice?" Erik asked.

"What about Destler and Chagny?" Christine suggested.

"No, they're too big, they would never agree to- wait. We're Destler and Chagny!" Raoul cried. "Think of it! We could do one of our old nightclub shows, fit Meg and Christine in here and there! It would be a hit!"

"It would," Erik murmured, thoughts filling his head. "Excuse me for a moment."

He walked out of the parlor and to the front desk where Celia was reading.

"Could you please get me the New York operator?" he asked. She jumped and dropped her book but then nodded and dialed the phone for him.

"Here you go, sir," she said and scurried off.

In the sitting room, Raoul was staring at the door. "I don't know what he's doing, but he's got that crazy business look in his eyes again."

"Is that a bad thing?" Meg asked.

"Not bad," Raoul said. "But always expensive. Excuse me for a moment."

He stood and left Meg and Christine alone.

"I wonder what they're up to," Christine murmured.

"I'm sure it's something good," Meg replied with a shrug. "Let's go unpack."

Raoul found Erik at the front desk, talking with someone on the phone.

"Who is it?" he whispered.

"Thank you, Stew. I know it's crazy," he said in an irritable tone. "Yes. Get everyone up here. The whole show, everyone. Lights, costumes, crew, as many people as you can round up."

"How much is this going to cost?" Raoul asked anxiously, but Erik ignored him.

"With an extra weeks pay for everyone who comes."

"What's this going to cost?"

"Opening night is Christmas Eve."

"What. Is. The. Tab?"

Finally, Erik seemed to have heard him. "Stew, what's this going to cost us?"

There was a pause and then Erik's face dissolved into some mix of neutrality and surprise.

"Wow."

Raoul's eyes went so wide they looked like big blue poker chips. "How much is wow?"

"Perfect. Thank you, Stew," Erik said, hanging up the call.

"How much is wow?" Raoul asked again and Erik looked at him this time.

"In between 'ouch' and 'chaching," Erik said.

"Wow," Raoul murmured.

They started back towards the sitting room, but were stopped by Lillian who was flying down the stairs towards them.

"I won't tell the general, you do it however you want, but I think bringing your show up here is one of the nicest things anyone-"

"How did you know?" Erik asked.

Lillian blew her nose into her handkerchief. "Like any self-respecting housekeeper I listened in on the other line. I don't know what to say!"

She grabbed Raoul by the shoulders and kissed him.

"It was his idea!" Raoul shouted, pointing at Erik as he pulled away. Lillian grabbed Erik shoulders and would have kissed him if he hadn't turned his head so she only kissed his cheek.

"It was a lovely thought," Lillian said, wiping some happy tears away. She hurried off, leaving Raoul and Erik standing there in shock.