Let the Games Begin

Fall on your knees. Oh, hear the angel's voices…

"Papa! Papa!" Gustave shouts as he barrels into the Eyrie, sliding slightly on the polished wooden floor, steadying himself on the back of the seven-foot-long leather sofa.

Erik stops playing. Christine stops singing. What was their first rehearsal for the Christmas program, finally coming together now that the carols have been selected, halts at the shouts of their first-born son.

"Pianissimo. Pianissimo," Erik says as they jokingly place their forefingers in their ears. The signal developed for anyone in the entire household to use when the decibel level becomes less than tolerable for him or her to bear. That Erik was often the person the movement was directed at, usually by his wife, mattered little. His complaints of being the father and it was he who made the rule gave him the power to ignore it bore no fruit.

"You know very well your merely raising an eyebrow and speaking softly…so very softly…in one's ear will silence them, Erik."

"Really?" he said to Christine, puffing up his chest. "I rather like that idea, but I do so like to yell on occasion – there is something freeing by allowing my voice to swell and overwhelm particularly when one of the little buggers has disturbed me when I am working."

"Save it for singing or cursing the gods out on the pier – yelling at children, servants or your wife will not serve you in the long run."

"What if there is danger?"

"Then a loud voice is acceptable."

"There is that then."

"Playing tricks?"

"No, you have ruined many a meal by scaring one of us when carrying food from the kitchen."

"I often frighten people by my mere presence."

"You intimidate people, Erik. You do not scare them. In any event, we are speaking about loud voices in the house. Joshua is quite fond of screaming and fussing, as you may have noticed, and must learn to control himself. If his papa does not follow the rules, how will he learn?"

As always, she managed to come up with the argument that worked one hundred percent of the time – if something was good for the children, he would do it.

"Slow down, son, the floor will not be kind if you fall down and I am not in the mood for setting fractured tibias or fibulas." Erik shifts his position on the bench to face the red-faced, heavily breathing teenager.

Christine takes a seat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her for Gustave to sit down. "Sit here and calm yourself. Perhaps some tea?"

Gustave shakes his head and moves to the kitchen. "Root beer. This deserves root beer."

"Erik, tea?"

"May as well, it would seem our rehearsal is to be put aside for the moment," he says, getting up from the piano, accepting the cup from his wife, he grabs a croissant from the plate next to the tea pot on the coffee table. Taking a seat in his arm chair across from the sofa, the two of them wait for the return of Gustave with his bottle of soda pop.

"You will never believe it," Gustave says, taking a long swig of the dark amber liquid, before plopping down on the couch.

"Try us," Erik says. "You have commandeered our rehearsal. I do so hope whatever you have to say is worthy of the interruption."

"Raoul paid me back the thousand dollars." A wide grin breaks across his face. "I went to meet him in the loading area by the carpenter's shop. The people who sold us the boat brought it on a trailer and left it there. Drove off before saying a word, like they were scared or something."

"Frightened? Of what," Christine asks, sitting forward on the couch.

"At first I thought it might be some of the freaks, but none of them were walking around."

"Gustave!"

"I do not mean to be disrespectful, but you know how people can be," he responds. 'Besides I only thought it, I did not say it."

"Handled very well my son," Erik laughs. "In addition to your other many talents, you might wind up being a diplomat."

"Then they kept said something about ghosts and the boat being haunted." Gustave shrugs. "I joked that we have a hall inside the park where there were all sorts of ghosts, ghouls and demons."

Erik rolls his eyes.

"This is diplomacy?" she replies, attempting to control the smirk forming on her lips. "Only if he learns to temper his words before they leave his mouth rather than after when he must provide an explanation."

"I did not mean anything, Maman," Gustave says. "I was trying to make them laugh, but just made it worse. They were nervous and wanted to go. Raoul tried to ask them some questions about where they got the boat. All they would tell him was they found it washed up in a cove where they go fishing – just a ways up the coast. Figured someone would buy it because it was so unusual."

"They were correct about that," Erik agrees.

"Then jumped back in their truck and drove off leaving their trailer behind and everything."

"Hmmm, what sort of condition is it in?"

"A real mess."

"Worth the money?" Erik asks.

"Weellll." Gustave scrunches his face.

"No, I take it."

"It will take some work – but Raoul says it can be made sea-worthy – the hull is made of teak – which I know is good because teak is so hard. It has a lot of weird carvings."

"Carvings?" Christine asks. "That does seem unusual. Of what?"

"There is a dragon's head on the prow and a lot of what look like the body with lots of scales and other stuff…"

"It sounds quite unique…and strange enough for a normal person to find spooky," Erik says. "For most people a boat is for fishing or transportation – this one sounds like a creative piece."

"I guess," Gustave mutters, "but this boat just seems weird."

"So then, it is worth the money for the artistry, albeit weird artistry?"

"The work is not all that fine, but maybe."

"Needs to be cleaned up a bit and will be a real beauty?"

"The Beauty Underneath?" Gustave bounces in his seat causing Christine to laugh. "I guess so, but will take some work."

"I shall have to go look at this stroke of purchasing genius."

"Alfred is looking it over now – it is a big boat."

"That it is," says Nadir, entering without any bell ringing or door knocking. "Ugly, too."

"Nadir, good morning," Christine says. "I just made tea."

"This is a residence of sorts, daroga," Erik says, "did you consider notifying me in any way of your arrival."

"I did, but thought it easier to just come up the stairs, since the wooden object being called a vessel meant for sailing is sitting in the loading area, blocking traffic."

"So they did just leave the thing."

"I told you," Gustave harrumphs.

"I would have thought someone might have the common sense to move it." Erik asks, jumping up to look out the window. "Damnation." He curses loudly. "They did – just dropped the thing off on its cart. I would be hard pressed to call it a boat."

Gustave puts his fingers in his ears.

"Oh, stop that," Erik tells him. "This is worthy of a dispensation."

"Some might say the vicomte has fallen in love, he was quite beaming when looking at the barge – he says he can make it into a first class launch," Nadir chuckles.

"In love? I feel I should be offended by that comment, Nadir." Christine joins Erik at the window and starts to laugh. "It really is a piece of junk, not the fiercest dragon I have ever seen. Still, the only time I have ever seen Raoul really engaged with anything, it was his boat. He may surprise us all."

"Maybe he will have better luck with a boat than with a woman," Erik says, waving his hands at all of them to move away from the window. "Sit, everyone." Following his own direction, he returns to his armchair and crosses his legs. "One can hope."

"If you were expecting him to put any labor into the Pirate attraction, I would re-evaluate what he will be willing to do," Nadir says. "We need to discuss a few things.

"So Phillippe must have given him the thousand dollars for the payment," Christine says. "Was that not what you paid for the boat, Gustave? Nothing extra for major repairs."

Gustave flops onto the couch and nods, holding up an envelope. "He gave me this just now – that was what I wanted to tell you."

"Oh, Phillippe gave him more than a grand – five to be exact," Nadir says, helping himself to a cup of tea with eight cubes of sugar he lines the edge of the saucer with ready to dip in the tea and suck on.

"Your habit of eating sugar cubes is really quite obscene," Erik says. "Can you just not put the sugar in the tea if you prefer the sweetness?"

"I could, but then you would not be annoyed and I would not enjoy my guilty pleasure quite so much. You might try it to sweeten your own nature."

"Leave him be, Erik," Christine says, taking a sip from her own cup. "After all this time, most of us have grown accustomed to Nadir's partiality for eating sugar disguised as drinking a cup of tea."

"Fine. Whatever. This room used to be a sanctuary, it has now become a meeting place for gossip and snacks."

"You are seldom in your office these days, although I did try to ring you when the concierge called me about the road being blocked," Nadir replies. "You are a creature of habit, my friend, and I believed you would like to know what was going just outside your window."

"I tried to tell him, Uncle Nadir," Gustave says, grabbing a croissant from the plate, adding some jam before taking a bite.

"Christine and I came here to rehearse for the Christmas show – the theater being taken up by the other performers," he grumbles. "The boat seems to be the main topic of interest, so tell me what you know and then you can leave."

"As I said – five thousand – according to Meg."

"Dollars?" Christine chokes out. "Phillippe gave him that much? What a liar."

"How so?" Erik asks.

"Implying he was in dire straits, but can come up with that much cash?"

"Meg was given the impression it was a hardship as well – the family having to scrape the money together for Raoul," Nadir says. "At least that is what she told Adele. Felt bad about leaving him high and dry. Wanted him back in the family. Blah, blah, blah."

"From what I remember of Phillippe, that amount would have been spare change, but not easily parted with. He may have escaped with his life, but I am willing to wager he took a fortune with him – not just cash, but the valuables in the estate were worth thousands upon thousands. If he was willing to shed five thousand dollars, you can be assured there is a significantly larger cache somewhere."

"How deep did your investigation go in Boston?" Erik asks.

"Not deeply enough, judging from Christine's remarks."

"When did you start investigating Phillippe?" Christine's brow furrows, the tone of her voice cool and pointed. "You never said anything to me – I might have been able to help…I did live in the same house with him for ten years."

Erik's eyes widen as he stumbles over his answer. "Only a few days before he arrived – when I learned about the boat and the wire to Raoul refusing him the money. I…we…"

"What…you what?"

"Um, I…Raoul's affairs never interested me while he was in Manhattan, it suited me just fine. When he came back here, it became more of an issue. I…um."

Christine cocks her head to one side, staring at him. "Go on."

"I did not want you to…"

"Know?"

Erik's eyes shift from side to side, as he loosens his collar. "Worry…or think me…us foolish," he finishes, offering a small smile.

Nadir clears his throat. "It was actually as much my idea as his, dear lady, especially since I have the law enforcement connections," He winks at Erik and chuckles. "You know how I feel about the dumb blondes*. That, and Adele and all worrying about Meg and her inheritance – any possibility of Raoul actually having a financial cushion was of interest to all of us."

"Then I shall blame you for the lack of thought and consideration for my past association." The words directed to Nadir become wry humor as she continues to focus on Erik in his discomfort.

Nadir shuffles in his seat. "Not entirely, of course, but your husband did not actually initiate the idea."

"The pair of you should know better – playing detective…"

"We were only trying to find out if there was a possibility of Raoul becoming solvent – for all our sakes," Erik says.

"Hmmm. Well, in the future, I suggest you include me in your spying adventures – it might save time."

"Of course," Erik and Nadir say in unison.

Seeing the repartee among the adults come to an end, Gustave finishes his snack and says, "I remember he sent that wire after he saw the advertisement about this boat. I was looking through the newspaper and saw the picture…it looked better then."

"There was a photograph?" Christine asks. "Do you still have it?"

"No," the boy answers. "When I showed it to him, he got all red and jumpy – took it from my hand – then went to send the wire."

"I suppose he felt that Phillippe would be more receptive if there was something he wanted to invest in, rather than just wanting money," Christine says. "Despite Raoul's poor luck with almost all of his investments, the idea he was not idle might have prompted the offer of funds."

"You mean more important than for room and board – survival needs?" Nadir snickers. "Phillippe sounds about as warm as a glacier."

"Oh, he can be very charming – Erik can attest to that. He was only twenty or so when their father died and became the head of the family. He overcompensated for his youth by being sterner than may have been necessary on the one hand and too permissive on the other. The result is Raoul being who he is – perpetually needy."

Standing once again, Erik paces the floor, tapping out rhythms on his thighs with his fingers. Reaching back into his memory, creating a theory, putting the pieces together as if composing a sonata. The vicomte could be clever enough, but easily led by a good tale. The incidents at the Garnier were proof of that – Erik being the primary beneficiary of Raoul's fantasies about himself and the world. It would seem telling tall tales was a family trait. "The book likely angered Phillippe as much as it did me, but blood runs thick with them."

"As I said, Adele was concerned for Meg – Raoul living off of her, but Meg seemed fine with it before and still does – so I just keep my own counsel – foolish woman – foolish man…made for each other," Nadir says. "Then there was the boat and Phantasma and Gustave getting caught up in it."

"The wires were what bothered me. When the concierge told me about all the telegrams going back and forth, it made no sense to me – France is at war – who has time or ability to be sending wires, if Phillippe was still there at all. I asked Nadir to look into what might be going on."

Nadir picks up another piece of sugar to dip in his tea. "My investigation turned up the wires actually initiated in Boston – maybe a wire service was being paid to suggest they were coming from France. People will do most anything for money – falsifying a few telegrams." He shrugs.

"I still do not understand why Phillippe chose this point of time to make his appearance," Christine says. "He could have easily continued his charade about being in France."

"He told Meg and Raoul he tried to find them in Manhattan, this was just after they left," Nadir says.

"And they left because Meg was with child," Erik adds.

"Phillippe did not know she was pregnant – I told him," Christine says.

"Are you sure that was his first knowledge?" Nadir asks.

"I am willing to believe he found out from the theater where she worked last."

"The baby will be the only child produced by any of the siblings," Christine says, enthusiastically warming to the discussion. "Do you think he wants the baby?"

"Quite possibly," Nadir says. "The only problem being Meg is married to Darius – so legally the child is not Raoul's."

"He seemed willing enough to cast Raoul aside," Erik says. "Why would he be so interested in a baby?"

"Raoul embarrassed him with the book," Nadir says. "From what you have said, Christine, he is a very proud man, however, family ties will often win out over tiffs – particularly since the book is ancient history."

"Sorelli might also have some influence – wanting to reacquaint with old friends," Christine says. "The Chagnys are not the most exciting people and Veronique is likely bored silly."

"You would know, my dear," Erik says. "I apologize for not remembering your association with her, too."

"Forgiven." Christine bends her head, a small smile on her face as she looks up at Erik from under her eyelids.

"They were no fun," Gustave adds. "I was always being told to be quiet, or mind my manners, or do that in the other room."

Christine gives him a sympathetic look. "They are rather grim. I am sorry, son."

"Still if Phillippe is greedy with money, he is just as likely to be greedy with people he feels belong to him – so came looking for the stray brother and now, the brother's child."

"I would not be a bit surprised," Christine says, standing up, gathering up the used dishes onto a silver platter. "I believe a meeting with Sorelli might be in order – I have been wanting to go shopping for some Christmas gifts in Manhattan. Perhaps Meg, Adele and I could invite her for an overnight visit to the city to talk about old times."

"It does appear she may have been the impetus for seeking Raoul and Meg out before," Erik says. "You would not wish our company?" Nodding his head toward Nadir.

"What about me?" Gustave pipes up.

"This would be girls only," Christine says. "I think I shall telephone her right now, no time like the present."

"I would not be a bit surprised if she was expecting to hear from you," Erik comments.

"You seem to be warming to the game," Nadir says.

"Game? What game?" Gustave asks. "I am confused."

"Your father and Phillippe appear to have challenged one another to a duel of sorts," Christine explains. "Phillippe is not the only one who might be greedy about family."

"I prefer the word protective, but, yes," Erik says, "he does seem intent on meddling with our family – blood related or not. I am actually including Raoul. Fool, though he may be, he is our fool."

Christine raises an eyebrow.

Gustave's eyes widen as he give his father a crooked grin.

"Let the games begin," says Nadir, affirming his comment with crunchy bite of sugar cube.

"So be it."

*I took a little license with the timing of this expression which actually came into being in 1920s, although dumb, meaning stupid, has been around a very long time and was originally more often used to describe men than women.