San Francisco December 31, 1909
Erik walked into his private office, startled to find two women sitting together at a drafting table. "Miss Vanucci?"
His assistant jumped down from her chair, glancing quickly at her companion before smoothing her hair and facing her employer. "Mr. Dantes. I didn't expect to see you in today."
"And I distinctly remember giving you the entire day off." He looked past her to the other woman in the room. "Hello." The woman paled and slipped from her chair.
Miss Vanucci stepped forward, clearly uncomfortable. "Miss Emma Grainger," she began, addressing the woman, "allow me to present my employer, Mr. Erik Dantes."
To her credit, Miss Grainger stood straight and offered her hand. "How do you do, Mr. Dantes? Lucia has told me so much about you."
"Lucia?" It never occurred to him until this very minute that Miss Vanucci had a first name. And a lovely first name it was, too. "Yes, Lucia. I'm afraid she's told me nothing about you, Miss Grainger." He turned his eyes to his former secretary.
Coloring slightly, Miss Vanucci cleared her throat. "Miss Grainger and I are old friends."
"Yes," Emma picked up the conversational thread. "Lucia's always talking about the work you do. She's taken me by the hospital site several times over the past months. It's so exciting to see a building taking shape from a set of drawings."
"I agree," he said, stepping behind his desk. "Are you interested in architecture, Miss Grainger?"
"I admire beauty in all forms, Mr. Dantes. Although I fear I have no actual talent for creating it." She looked back at her friend. "Please don't be angry with Miss Vanucci, I begged her to show me where she works—where the magic begins."
He watched them closely, seeing the unspoken interplay between the two women and feeling a frisson of unease passing between them at his presence. Then it began to make sense. He'd known all his life that there were men who preferred the company of other men over that of women. He didn't know why it never occurred to him that there were women who preferred women over men. Their unease suddenly became crystal clear.
"Well," he said briskly, sitting down in his desk chair. "It's very nice meeting you, Miss Grainger, but now if you'll both excuse me, I've got some papers to go through before I can let myself enjoy the New Year's celebrations."
"Of course, Mr. Dantes." Miss Vanucci stepped forward, gesturing her friend toward the door. "Again, I'm sorry if we intruded."
"Think nothing of it, Miss Vanucci. Just make sure the next time you bring a friend to the workplace she's not spying for another firm." He smiled, letting her know he was teasing and not angry.
"No. Mr. Dantes. Good night." She was almost through the door when he stopped her.
"Miss Vanucci. Forgive me, but I cannot recall if you said you had plans for this New Year's Eve. Are you having a party for the children?"
"They're spending the night with their grandparents." She looked at her friend then back at him. "As neither Miss Grainger nor I had plans for the evening, we thought we'd have a quiet dinner at my home."
"Yes," Miss Grainger stepped forward. "Two spinsters together sharing a glass of sherry to toast to 1910."
"Oh I think you can do better than that, Miss Grainger." He looked at both women, smiling warmly. "Please allow me to invite you both to be my guests for dinner at The Masque." The Masque was a new supper club he and Nasir had opened three months previously.
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Dantes," Miss Vanucci said. "But didn't I hear Mr. Kahn saying it was completely booked for tonight a few weeks ago?"
"You did indeed, Miss Vanucci. However, there are always a few tables kept open for special last-minute guests of the owners."
He saw the delighted gleam in Miss Grainger's eyes as she smiled and her surreptitious tug at her friend's hand. Then he noted his assistant nervously wiping her hands along the seams of her nondescript grey dress. Under pretext of searching his lower desk drawer he slipped some cash from his pocket into an envelope.
"Please, Miss Vanucci" he continued, "allow me this small indulgence as a way of thanking you for your exemplary work for this firm." He watched her wrestle with doubt. It was a feeling he knew all too well. "And, it occurs to me that I've been forgetful in my duties as your employer…" He pretended to be rifling through his top desk drawer and then pulled out an envelope. "Ah, there it is."
He extended the envelope to her. "I'm sorry, Miss Vanucci. I've been so wrapped up in putting the finishing touches on the hospital exterior that I completely forgot I'd set this aside for you as a bonus for all the extra hours you put in."
She gasped upon opening the envelope. "Oh, Mr. Dantes, no. I can't accept this. It's too much. I didn't put in that many extra hours." She held out the envelope and he just stared at her until she folded it and slipped it into her handbag. "Thank you."
"It does come with one condition, Miss Vanucci. It cannot be spent on anything practical. I know that every penny you earn goes toward providing for the children, and I admire that greatly. But this," he indicated the envelope, "is to be used for frivolity.
"Miss Grainger?" He looked past his assistant to her friend. "I'd like your assurance that my condition will be met."
She smiled at him, nodding her thanks. "You have my solemn promise Mr. Dantes. And I believe that if we leave right now, we'll be able to meet that condition by this afternoon."
"Excellent." He reached for the telephone on his desk. "I'll call The Masque and arrange the table now. Ask for Gerard when you arrive and he will see to it that you have everything you wish. Happy New Year, Ladies." He turned his attention to the telephone, effectively dismissing them from his presence.
He did have some paperwork to complete and then he had to get home in time to bathe and dress for the evening's festivities at the performing arts center. The production had an early start time of 7:30 in order to allow for a champagne reception following the performance and New Year's Eve festivities later in the night.
. . . .
Erik ran up the steps at the newly built center for the performing arts. The building was so new, and so many people were involved in its construction and furnishing that a name for the facility hadn't yet been chosen. He'd promised to arrive by 7:00 and it was just that as he entered the lobby. He'd been asked to participate in the designing but was so busy with the Danby Foundation's hospital that he'd had to decline. However, he did make a single contribution to the décor and he looked forward to seeing how it fit in.
"Erik, there you are!" Charles Larmore came up to him slightly out of breath. "There you are," he repeated grabbing Erik's arm. "Muriel was getting anxious."
"Is everything all right?"
"There was a bit of a mix-up with the box for tonight, but that's been worked out. And Muriel's been in a tizzy ever since we got word this afternoon that our leading lady was ill."
"We have no soprano?" Erik shared Muriel's agitation. This was the grand opening for the center and losing their principle Rosalinde could be disastrous. "Surely there's an understudy?"
"I don't know," Charles murmured, patting Erik's arm and leading him up the stairs to their level. "As it hasn't been cancelled, I'm sure they found someone adequate."
Erik groaned silently. Charles didn't care for opera and was only here tonight to appease his wife on New Year's Eve. But Erik shared Muriel's feelings about having the right people in the right roles.
He also worried because the opera committee decided to have their grand premiere production on New Year's Eve and follow the Viennese tradition of presenting Die Fledermaus on that night. The production had to be nothing less than flawless or the board of directors risked losing influential patrons to bolster their budget for the upcoming season. He sighed heavily, there was nothing he could do about it at this point except hope for the best. He followed Charles along the curving corridor until they reached the box they'd been reassigned for the performance.
"No. Oh no." Were the opera gods against him this night? First the soprano and now this. "Box Five."
"Here we are, "Charles said jovially, pulling open the door and ushering Erik into the box. The box was full. Nasir was there with Mrs. Purdue who offered her hand shyly. He kissed her hand, as he glared at Nasir. Box Five indeed. Then he greeted Muriel and slipped into the velvet chair she indicated at her side.
"Oh, Erik, isn't this hall wonderful?" she gushed, looking around at the elegant space. "And this box is even better than the one we were supposed to have. I've never had such an amazing view of the stage before."
"Yes, it's an excellent view." He could see not only the stage but the entire sweep of the hall. It was beautiful. The architectural teams had all come together beautifully. Then he looked up and saw his contribution. It was perfect.
"Oh, Mr. Khan, did you know that Mr. Dantes gifted the hall with that beautiful chandelier?" Muriel patted Erik's hand. "I've never seen anything so spectacular."
"The chandelier?" Nasir's eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. "Erik, you gave them the chandelier?"
Erik shrugged. "I figured I owed somebody a chandelier," he muttered under his breath. "At least this one is secure. I made sure to oversee the installation myself."
Nasir just smiled. Erik had grown leagues away from the man in the Palais Garnier. Allah truly knew what he was doing after all.
The house lights dimmed and the stage lights came up as a man stepped through the heavy velvet curtains to address the audience. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the inaugural production of our great city's newest performance center." He waited until the enthusiastic applause died down and then continued. "As you might have heard, there is a last-minute change to the performers for tonight's program."
The man glanced up to Box Five and Erik suddenly felt very uncomfortable. What disaster was about to befall him?
"For tonight's performance of Die Fledermaus, the role of Rosalinde will be performed by," the man looked down at the slip of paper in his hand, "Miss Christine Daaé."
The audience applauded, the overture played, the curtain opened, Act 1 began, Christine swept out onto the stage, and Erik forgot about everything, losing himself in her.
. . . .
After the performance and its multiple standing ovations, many in the crowd gathered in the lobby for a champagne reception to toast the new year and the brilliant performances they'd seen that night.
Erik stood off to one side, perfectly still except for the twisting and untwisting of his restless fingers. "Oh, Erik," Muriel Larmore swept up to him, fanning herself excitedly. "Wasn't it just perfect? I can't imagine the Fledermaus in Vienna this evening was any better than the one we saw tonight."
"It was wonderful," he agreed, smiling down at her. "Thank you so much for including Mr. Khan and Mrs. Perdue in your invitation."
"I know you and Mr. Khan are great friends as well as business partners and I thought you should be able to share New Year's Eve with people who are special to you."
Silently, he bowed, taking her gloved hand in his and kissing it softly. He found it so hard to believe this was the imperious society matron who'd frowned at him so fiercely that night at Carmen. She'd changed, as he had, as so many had in the years following the earthquake.
The noise level in the lobby rose and the sound of applause joined the din as members of the cast began to enter the space.
"Oh, I do hope I can meet Miss Daaé," Muriel gushed. "I spoke to her once before when she sang at the banquet for the hospital last May. She's a lovely woman, very gracious."
"I'm sure it can be arranged," he said. Then he froze, holding perfectly still.
The applause and cheers grew to a roar as Christine walked into the room. She looked ethereal, a true angel of music. She moved to the center of the space and stopped, looking around. Then she dropped the bouquet of roses she carried and ran to him. "Ange!"
She hit him with such force he staggered back for an instant. He had a second's flash of surprised faces all around them before Christine pulled his head down for a fierce kiss. He locked his arms around her, lifting her from the ground, and met her ferocity with his own.
The room went silent. Everyone stared at the beautiful soprano and the man in the mask. Then Nasir began slowly clapping and the entire crowd joined in.
Christine felt Erik begin to tremble, he was overwhelmed and she knew she had to calm him before he yielded to old instinct and ran. Breaking the kiss, she interlocked his fingers within her own. Turning to face the crowd, she held up one hand. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please." Like the true Diva she was, she waited until they were all watching her in silence.
She commanded the room as she'd been taught to do so many years before by the man at her side. "I beg your pardon for my bold behavior, but I've been parted from the man I love for many months and all I could think when I saw him was to fly to his side." She felt he was still shaking, but not as badly as before.
Still grasping his hand, she nodded to a waiter and held out her free hand. The man came forward with a tray of champagne flutes and she lifted one high, watching as the rest of the wait staff followed her lead and passed champagne to the other guests. "To this wonderful facility, to all of you for making it possible, and to love. Chacun à son goût!"
Erik felt a glass being pushed into his empty hand and he grasped it tightly. Christine turned to him, her glass upraised and they toasted each other and drank. Then Nasir patted him on the back. "Wonderful night, isn't it my friend?"
Erik looked at his oldest friend and smiled. "I can't remember a better one."
. . . .
It was past one o'clock in the morning by the time Erik and Christine were able to leave the reception. It seemed that everyone wanted to praise the soprano. He'd managed to relax a little in the crowd and even enjoy himself. But an hour past midnight his patience had worn through and he maneuvered Christine through the crowd, out a side door, and onto the street. Being that it was New Year's, carriages for hire were plentiful and he had no trouble hailing one for the ride back to his loft.
Opening the door, he stepped back allowing Christine to enter first. "The last time I walked in here, Nasir and I were half carrying you," she said.
Erik ducked his head, saying nothing. He had almost no memories of that time. "Not the best day of my life, I assure you."
"No." Christine entered the space, dropping her wrap on a bench near the door. "I was so frightened that day…so overwhelmed. I didn't know what to think or feel." She moved to the seating arrangement at the opposite end of the loft and sank into the sofa cushions. "I'd just learned the truth about you. That you were the man Lillian wanted me to meet." She smiled as he sat down beside her, taking her hand in his.
"She was devious, our Lillian." He smiled at the memory. "Always planning, always plotting."
"How did you and she come to meet again?"
He looked at Christine, seeing no jealousy but only an intense curiosity. So he told her the story of how Lillian interfered with the attack on him and how they came to realize who they were to each other.
"That was so brave of her," Christine said. "I don't know if I would have had the courage to run into an alley where there was a fight going on."
"I don't think she gave it any thought," he said. "She saw someone who needed help and she gave it. That was just her nature." Without thinking, he slipped a hand into his pocket, fingering the worn piece of ribbon he always carried.
"What's that?"
Slowly he pulled his hand out, showing her the ribbon. "I've had this since I was a boy. She gave it to me when we first met."
"And you gave her that bracelet she always wore." It was the one piece of jewelry Lillian never took off. Christine had asked her about it once, but she changed the subject quickly.
"Not the bracelet, only the charm. It's how I realized who she was at the gala three years ago."
"That must have been quite a shock for you." He nodded once, a faraway look in his eyes. She immediately sensed he didn't want to speak of it and quickly changed the subject. "Enough about the past. We've spent entirely too much time revisiting unhappy memories. Let's speak of happier times." She looked at him, suddenly realizing that for him, there probably weren't too many happy times. "Better yet…." She rose from the sofa, pulling him up with her then reaching for his bow tie. "Let's create new memories."
He bent to take her into his arms, kissing her deeply. She responded eagerly, opening her mouth to his questing tongue while pushing the jacket from his shoulders. His hands reached for the fastenings of her gown. Then he growled in frustration. "Why must women's clothing have so damn many buttons?"
Christine laughed, breaking the kiss and reaching for the buttons on his waistcoat. "Because we want you to work for your prize."
"I have a better idea," he countered, moving his attention from her mouth to the sensitive column of her neck. Grasping the fragile fabric in both hands, he tore it open down her back, hearing the delicate pearl buttons pinging on the floor. "I'll buy you a new dress."