Family Reunion

"You know as well as I do that the bow of a boat is tapered – with the exception of those flat things they use at Luna Park for their water ride," Raoul says, picking up a pencil to make adjustments to the sketch Gustave is drawing. "The bow must cut the water like a knife to press forward against water and wind. The majesty of any boat, even the lowly rowing boat, is in the grace of the curves that propel it over a lake or pond or a vast ocean."

Except for a few lights turned on for mobility purposes around the Eyrie, only one section is well lit. Gustave and Raoul work at the same drafting table. Raoul giving instructions on how a rectangular building can be made to look like a boat.

"You sound like you are talking about a girl," Gustave chuckles, side-eyeing the man he once believed to be his father wearing a feverish look…expending a passionate energy the boy never saw in him before. Were he wont to admit it, Raoul reminds him of Papa right now – when his father is composing and lost in his music. During those times, the everyday world ceases to exist and Papa moves to a different place, somewhere only Maman has ever entered with him. The times when Gustave has attempted to grasp his own level of ecstasy, it eludes him.

"You must simply live it…let the music flow through you, son. Once you allow that excellent intellect of yours to interfere, heaven escapes. Just allow the magic to happen."

"I would say that was ridiculous, except boats are historically named for women, so I will plead guilty as to being smitten by boats," Raoul laughs softly, since he began working on this project with Gustave, there is a new energy inside him – or rather an energy he has not experienced in a very long time – the early years with Christine and, to be fair, moments now with Meg.

The sea and boats always fascinated him, but he never thought he could create one – either as a drawing or even building one. The boy was so secure in his work – measuring and plotting a series of small buildings that would comprise a larger attraction made to look like a pirate's schooner.

Gustave simply put his pencil to the paper and whatever developed just seemed right – exactly what he intended it to be. Still, when he was putting his idea down on the rough surface of the paper, he actually felt a sense of the water and the movement of the schooner challenging the waves.

"This would go a lot faster if you did not insist on doing your corrections on my rough in. I am drawing to scale, this is not art – it is mathematics…geometry. Now I have to redo the rough draft again."

"You continue to draw rectangles and squares."

"Precisely. We are not building a boat – the structure of the attraction must come first. The bow and the other elements to make it look like a boat are going to be attachments. Those I will draw separately unless you want try actually doing some work on this besides giving me critiques and messing up what I am doing."

"You know I am unable to work from scratch."

"That is ridiculous – your images are beautifully drawn and you seem to like doing it," Gustave argues, pushing the latest ruined plan toward Raoul. "However, if you insist you are so unskilled, you can take this over to the other table and finish whatever it is you were trying to create – then we can piece the drawings together."

"Sounds like a good plan," Raoul says, folding over the large sheet of paper, then setting it up on the table across from Gustave's. Perhaps the boy was right, he cannot remember enjoying anything quite so much – besides actually sailing. Maybe he did have a talent of his own after so many years of envying the gifts of others.

A light is turned on in the passageway and the sound of the door closing captures Gustave's attention. Erik told them he would return shortly and, although he was gone longer than anticipated, there is no surprise so he continues with his measurements. "Hello, Papa," he says absently.

Raoul continues setting up his drawing, ignoring Erik's arrival. As much as he and Gustave quarrel – they are strangely comfortable with one another. The bickering companionable and easy. Erik, on the other hand, makes him nervous – although the masked man has never made any comments positive or negative about his contribution – he is nevertheless always on guard.

With this new set-up, he hopes he and Gustave can make progress on their own without any input from anyone other than Alfred, the carpenter. This project has to work – if it does not, he is not sure what he will do. The situation with Meg is tenuous. To say he did not care for her would be a lie – the accident…having a child on the way brought them closer and he must provide for his family. If they actually loved one another, things might be easier. There were times when he felt if he knew where to go, he would run away…again. But, no. This was the end of the road – looking to the man he hated to rescue him from his own foolishness.

The Comte follows Erik and Christine from the shadows near the doorway, across the Eyrie. They pass through the library area to the section of the large room set aside as the workroom. No one says anything, which, again is no surprise, however, there is a definite tension in the air. Both Gustave and Raoul sense this is not simply Erik returning to check in on them.

Gustave is the first to look up. "Uncle Phillippe?" he says, so alarmed, his pencil digs into the paper, tearing a hole through the middle of the proposed hull.

"What?" Raoul turns around from his table to face his older brother – was this a miracle – the sight of Phillippe's stern, but handsome face, sends a rush of hope to his heart. "Phillippe? What are you doing here?" After only a brief hesitation, he runs to his brother, pulling him into a hug. "When did you arrive? How did you get here – it must have been difficult to find passage. I was so worried…you came for me…to help me?"

Phillippe tenses up. Not moving, his eyes stare straight ahead, unable to give Raoul the succor he is demanding with his words and his embrace.

Erik and Christine separate themselves from the brothers to join Gustave at his drafting table.

Their movement relaxes the older brother, allowing him to return the embrace, bringing Raoul closer, tousling the blond waves. "Yes, I came to help you." Blue-gray eyes roll to the heavens. "I will always take care of you."

Raoul steps back, a broad grin breaks on his face, he rubs away the tears flowing down his cheeks, awkwardly accepting the handkerchief the older man hands him. "I was afraid you gave up on me."

Gustave throws a questioning look at his parents, mouthing "What is he doing here?"

"Raoul and Phillippe have matters to discuss," Erik whispers in the boy's ear. "Personal and business."

"Why did you not call me," Raoul asks. "I could have met you at the hotel – why here? Why with him?" His look at Erik borders on a sneer.

"As a general rule, brother, it is best to treat your benefactor with more grace than you are exhibiting right now," Phillippe says, his tone cold. Whatever warmth expressed earlier is gone. "I ran into Christine and Erik – if I may call you by your first name?"

Erik nods.

"I ran into them at the hotel and since he knew where you were, offered to accompany me," Phillippe says. "We all felt that such a surprise would be best held in a private place. I was pleased to know you were working on the project you wrote me about."

"Of course," Raoul says, wiping his hands on his pants, looking around for his jacket, his drawing forgotten. "Thank you both, but perhaps we could return to the hotel…to my…our apartment – Meg will be so pleased to see you. When did you arrive? There have been no ships in weeks…months that I am aware of."

Christine raises her eyebrows at Phillippe. "Time for some truth telling, I would say."

"What are you talking about," Raoul frowns. "What is she talking about, Phillippe?"

Gustave tugs on his mother's sleeve, but she ignores him. Her eyes are directed at Phillippe. Erik simply stands, a hand on her shoulder, observing the wordless interplay between the brothers and his wife.

"Perhaps we do need to discuss this in private," Phillippe says. "I have a room booked here – we can talk there, afterward, I would be happy to see Miss Giry again."

"She is no longer Miss Giry," Gustave blurts out. "She is Mrs. Touloui…"

Christine pokes him in the side.

"Well, she is," he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot.

"I think Phillippe's suggestion is wise," Erik says. "Gustave put your table in order. The holiday banquet is tomorrow, so I think we can make this an early day and go home."

"We were just finally able to make some progress…"

"That is fine and you can return to your work on Friday," Christine says, rubbing the area on his back as she admires his drawing. "This is quite good. I think you can stop here quite easily – you will have to redo the drawing in any event – what with the cut in the paper. Correct?"

"Yes, Maman."

"Raoul, you and Phillippe can reacquaint tonight – we hope you will all be present at the banquet tomorrow," Erik says, ushering the brothers to the door, he snatches Raoul's jacket from the coat rack and hands it to him. "We can then plan a meeting for Friday – the three…" Checking himself, he looks at Gustave and says, "The four of us can discuss the Pirate attraction and the boat rides."

"The boat rides, too?" Raoul asks, putting on his jacket and a tweed cap. "I was not certain…after the problem…"

"We shall discuss all of our ideas to see what might work," Erik says. "I would assume the problem, as you call it, will be one of the topics you cover with your brother."

"I suppose that is all right then."

"Tomorrow, then," Phillippe says. "Come, brother, we have much to discuss I am curious about this problem you are alluding to. Is dinner being served in the dining room?"

"Um, Meg and I usually eat in our suite – I would not wish to disturb her routine," Raoul says, perhaps we can talk in your room and you can join us – I only need to advise her."

Phillippe smiles. "Nice you are considering her needs. Your plan sounds fine to me," he says. "Erik, Christine…Gustave – you have become quite a young man – thank you for your hospitality. We shall see you tomorrow then, as suggested."

With that, the brothers leave, Erik closes the door behind them, pressing his back against the door. He cover his mouth to temper the roar of amusement threatening to explode from his gut, his walk resembling a stumble as he returns to the work area to rest his arms on Christine's shoulders, letting his laugh break loose.

Christine cannot restrain her giggles and, although still confused about what just happened, Gustave laughs lightly as he examines the faces of his parents. "What is so funny? I did not hear anything funny."

"Oh, to be able to walk through walls again," Erik says, catching his breath, sitting on the stool in front of Raoul's drafting table.

At this Christine's giggles turn to outright laughter, getting Erik started again.

"Now I am really confused, Papa…Maman. Tell me. What is so funny?" Gustave asks. "We walk through walls all the time here in the park – you built all the attractions that way." Turning his drawing for Erik to look at, he points out the different secret passages he has drawn into the schooner.

"Yes, son, but those walls are not for discovering secrets," Erik says. "Of course, neither were the passages built into the Garnier.

"They were excellent, however, for giving music lessons," Christine adds.

"True enough," Erik says, leaning forward to look at Raoul's work. "This is quite good – did he draw this or is this yours?"

Christine and Gustave join him in admiring Raoul's work. "His – he was really excited about working on it. When he talked about how great boats were, I told him he sounded like he was talking about a girl."

"The drawing is really excellent," Christine says. "I would never have thought he had such a gift, he certainly never expressed it."

"Well, he definitely loves boats – at least he loves this one," Erik comments. "Looking back, perhaps had I offered him the skiff that night, he might have simply taken the offer and left – leaving you to your fate."

"Very funny," Christine says, slapping him on the arm.

"What are you two talking about?" Gustave whines. "I really hate it when you go off on your grown up stuff and refuse to explain what you are talking about."

"It is pri…"

"Private…I know, I know, it is private and I will know more about such things when I am older," he chuffs. "Can we go now? I am hungry."

"Hmmm, I believe this is the evening when Julia helps Helen with the household books," Christine says, winking at Erik. "Maybe you can relieve her of her duties and meet us at the automobile."

"Yes, we best be finding our way home – they will be wanting some funds," Erik says. "And, of course, Gustave needs his dinner."

Pushing past them, Gustave storms toward the door, "I will be waiting in the car with Julia. Try not to take too long. You two. You tell me I act childish."

"We shall be right there," Erik calls after him.

"Right." The sound of the door slamming brings about another bout of laughter from the couple.

"We should not tease him so much," Christine says.

"He likes it – his indignity allows him to feel superior to us – and infinitely more mature."

"Do you really think Raoul would have traded me for the boat – I mean, you gave him the boat anyway?"

"Had I known his true passion, I might have done. Who knows what our story may have been."

"I am deliriously happy now – especially after seeing Phillippe again – he reminded me of the coldness that shrouded our household." Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against his, she says, "He was always so proud of being French – although he never served in the military – his father's early death left him head of the family. Doing well by the family name was important to him. His title was important to him. I see that much of that was folly."

"You are saying he ran away?"

"So it would seem – which has me wonder about how much money the family still has – from what I understand the lands were taken over."

"Then what Nadir reported is true."

Christine stiffens at his words, taking a stand in front of him, hands on hips, head cocked to one side. "Nadir? Reporting what?"

Taking her hands in his, he kisses each one and says, "I asked him to run a quick check on where the family de Chagny were living and their financial situation.

Her attention returns to Raoul's drawing. "So that is how you knew he has been in America for two years."

"The stories Raoul was telling Meg about his finances had Nadir and Darius concerned – she has been his entire support for some time now…well, he was acting as her agent with the burlesque shows, but even so, there was no money coming in from his family."

"She never said anything to me."

"Did you think she would? I love you my darling, but you are so trusting of people," he says, walking her to the sofa. "I, on the other hand trust no one. Meg is with the man you married, then left. Does he really love her, or is this just Meg settling for your leftover and supporting him on top of it all? Darius has moved on."

"Darius would never let her go without – whatever their legal relationship." Frowning, she turns away from him tapping a finger on her lips. "What does all of this have to do with Phillippe being in the United States. Why is this conversation someone becoming about me and men…you? Is this about us?"

"Noooo, I did not say that," Erik coos, following her pacing, until he reaches her to place an arm around her shoulder. "Raoul went to see Darius about divorcing Meg so they could marry. Darius told him Meg could do what she wanted – they were married in Islamic fashion meaning Meg could leave him if she chose to do so. She does not trust Raoul with her money, so she stays married to Darius, even though he loves Yasmine."

"So Nadir did some investigating and found Phillippe and the sisters were in Boston?"

"Exactly."

"Doing what?"

"Good question – there is some money, but they all live together in a modest home in a modest neighborhood. Certainly not what they had in France." Leading her back to the sofa, he says, "Come sit down."

They settle back on the couch, Christine holding Erik's hands on her lap. "I feel badly for Raoul – even if there is no money, why would Phillippe not tell him they were so near to one another?"

"The same reason we complain about Raoul – he is frustratingly unaware of other people's feelings and concerns," Erik says. "My guess is the only reason Phillippe decided to show himself is our involvement."

"Pride." Christine agrees. "Raoul owing the money for the boat."

"The conversation they are having must be a shock for Raoul," Erik jokes. "Now I am really wishing I had built in some secret passages in the hotel."

"You mean there are none?" Sitting up straight she faces him.

"Nary a one."

"Even to the suite where Meg and Raoul live now – where I once stayed?"

"No."

"Then, how, that first night…"

"When I heard you arrived at the hotel, I went to the room and waited on the balcony," he says, relaxing against the cushions, crossing his legs.

"You just stood out there?" Arms akimbo. "How did you know Raoul would leave? Oh, of course, the phony note from Oscar Hammerstein…" She tosses her hands into the air. "You truly are a piece of work."

Throwing his head back grinning, he asks, "How did you think I got onto the balcony?"

"Flew in – like an angel? I do not know. I was so stunned to see you I never questioned how you got there. You were always one for grand entrances, it never occurred to me to ask. Entering the room normally and waiting on the balcony seems so mundane," she says, swatting him with a throw pillow.

Raising his arm to protect himself from another blow, he grabs the pillow, letting it fall to the floor and pulls her into his arms. "Mundane, eh? I suppose I shall have to dig into my bag of tricks to charm and fascinate you again."

"You are ever fascinating to me, my husband, you do not need to build any secret passages. I much prefer your exploring me and my secret places."

Nuzzling her neck, he says, "Do you think we have time for a short treasure hunt or do you think our son will come storming back annoyed we have kept him waiting?"

"Either that or he will begin his own search with Julia. After that one incident, I am leery of leaving them alone for too long." Caressing his cheek, she sighs and kisses him lightly on the lips. "A moment of seduction does sound appealing, though."

"Mmmm." Returning the kiss with a bit more intensity – he, too, sighs before releasing his hold to get up. Extending his hand out to assist her, he says, "I suppose you are right. He is already too aware of our intimacies. Shall we find the youngsters and go home then?"

"I suppose that is best."

A bell rings – once, twice, three times.

"And there he is."

"Maybe we can sneak away after the banquet – the children will have their aunts and uncles and the nannies." Erik turns off the lights in the workshop, then takes Christine's arm, guiding her to the door.

"Or we can get everyone to bed early – it has been a very long day, after all."

"For some reason our plans seem to be more like the children looking to do mischief than the parents." Taking his hat from the coat rack and handing her reticule, he opens the door.

"It is a wonder we became parents at all," she says, tucking her arm in his, snuggling close to him.

"In a sense, I suppose they are preserving their places in our lives – never giving us the opportunity to produce any more of them."

Christine bursts out laughing. "Do you really believe that?"

"No – at least I hope not. Perhaps we need to spy on their conversations to be certain, though," he says. "Henry, tonight is your night to create a ruckus, so Papa cannot get to bed on time. I can just hear Gustave giving him the order."

"I think our Emilie already has that area covered – she does love her Papa."

"Well, if not tonight, my dearest wife – I am stealing you away tomorrow when everything is abuzz in the dining room," he says, closing the door behind them. "The holiday is called Thanksgiving and I am determined we both have something to be truly thankful for – a different sort of banquet, if you will."

"I cannot wait."

The bell rings again – just once with an increased intensity.

"Coming, son," Erik calls down the elevator shaft. "Have no fear, your mother and I are behaving ourselves." Flashing a grin to Christine, she responds with a giggle as they enter the lift.

"Do not provoke him," she says. "He is at a difficult age."

"As is his father – in that I believe we are quite similar."

A look of understanding brightens her eyes. "I believe you are correct."

"Am I not always correct?"

"A late adolescence?"

"A seemingly eternal adolescence where you are concerned." Leaning down to kiss her, the elevator reaches its destination.

Gustave faces the door with his arms crossed. Observing the kiss, he shakes his head and turns to head out the door to the street. "You two."