After Erik recovered fully and everyone was healthy and happy in his family, life slowly got back in its normal flow. Christine sang at the Opera, Erik took care of the children, there were singing lessons, Erik took Flo to school and Noel for car rides, and taught him magic tricks. But instead of the music lessons between only Erik and Florian, they became trios with Erik, Mahtab and Florian. Mahtab received a sheet music always designed for her skills, and she, slowly but steady, got better and better. Flo was a cute little guy and encouraged his sister a lot.
- It was fantastic, Mahtab, I am proud of you. – He praised her just the exact way Papa praised him, so Matab's self-confidence about music started to return.
Erik also wanted to spend more alone time with Mahtab, as both him and her missed it dearly, and he felt guilty about Mahtab's thoughts and runaway. He had a sudden idea about how he could spend a lot more time with her. She doesn't have to go to school, so she is able to help him with the house he bought in Perros. They have to renew the house until summer to be able to go there for 2-3 weeks again. But that house wasn't in the best condition, it was old and a bit of neglected. For himself alone, it was a lot of work, but for two people, it was considerably less effort. Mahtab was a handy and strong child, and she wanted to help him always. They went by car in weekends, they departed in Saturday morning and returned Sunday afternoon, so that Flo and Noel were with Christine. Noel did not really like the fact that Papa took Mahtab in the car instead of him, so this fact resulted in some tantrums Christine had to deal with, but other than that, she loved to spend time with her sons. Flo loved to sing with her as well, and Christine taught him how to dance like a gentleman. In a few hours' time Flo was able to dance waltz and minuet just like a small cavalier.
Noel was harder to occupy, as he liked too wild things for Christine's taste. Everything that burned, exploded or banged were his favorite things, but he did not like milder activities too much. He enjoyed music, but it did not occupy him for hours as it did satisfy Flo. Noel was hyperactive and dangerous. How many times Erik had to slap his hand because he was playing with the matches! And no matter where did they hide it, he always found it. Even at the top of the highest shelf he would climb and jump down with his favorite toy. He played real war with toy soldiers shooting real burning matches. This was the second time Erik ever spanked a child, as Noel succeeding in setting the children's room carpet on fire in no time, then screamed for help upon realizing suddenly there were too high flames. After putting out the fire and asking Noel about how it started, Erik could not help, but laying the boy across his knees and hit him a few times, threatening him if it ever happens again, he will get more. Erik wasn't too proud of himself for it, but at least it did work out. Noel did not try to light a fire by himself any more after the beating. Erik remarked that this boy really reminded him of himself as a boy, only with normal features.
- I am not even sure anymore that I was such a little devil because of my devil's face. – He wondered. – Can it be it was just my real temper? As Mahtab, despite having devil's little face, is really an angel, but this kid is hammering nails into my coffin, yet he looks like Mr. Prince Charming.
"Prince Charming" was yet a bit of an exaggeration. Noel wasn't really a fluffy and huggable child as he grew, he became somewhat bony and his cheeks were resembling the angularity of Erik's. He wasn't skeletal, but kind of thin, pale, and had a small figure. Mahtab was taller than her age, Flo was just about the usual height of his age, and was a bit of chubby, but Noel was shorter than ideal, and he looked like he was getting ill easily, even though his health did not indicate such a thing. He was just seemingly fragile and it made Christine worry. She took Noel to be checked by the doctor a lot more than she ever did any other of her children. The doctor always calmed her that Noel was in a good health, but it just wasn't calming enough for Christine. She wanted to make Noel stronger by feeding him cod-liver oil, which, thanks to Noel's inventiveness, always ended up in either the dirt of potted plants in the house, or in the toilet. No way will he ever swallow that rubbish.
Mahtab and her father were happily renovating the house in Perros. She was proud that she was helping Papa with job that only grown up people were normally doing. Even though she was yet nine years old, Erik explained her the basics of putting on wallpaper, putting down floor tiles, helping Erik with building a loft with stairs in the main room (the house was too small for separate bedrooms for everyone so Erik designed a loft on which the children will be able to sleep and play during the vacation), changing window glasses, and plumbing. The only thing Mahtab wasn't yet allowed to mess with was gas, it being too dangerous for such a young person. They talked a lot during these days and some of the girl's questions weren't expected at all.
- Papa, what does it mean if someone is castrated?
- What? – Erik nearly dropped the plier out of his left, upon looking back at Mahtab.
- Castrated. I read it in a book.
- Oh… well, you know that men have deeper voice than girls. – He started with hesitation, not knowing how much to actually tell.
- Yes. – She nodded.
- And young boys are able to sing soprano. – Erik continued.
- Yes.
- And well, when their voice would start to change to the deeper… there is a special kind of surgery for them so that their voice remains high- pitched and they are able to sing soprano even in their adulthood. That surgery is called castration.
- You can sing soprano as well. – She stated. – Did it hurt?
- Mahtab I did not have that surgery.
- You had one a few years back.
- They took out my TONSILS. The part we are talking about is… somewhere else….
- Where?
- I am not telling.
- Can I be castrated too so my voice isn't going to change?
- Mahtab, your voice won't be deep. You are a girl.
- But just to make sure.
- You don't HAVE that body part at all.
- God, it's missing?
- It should.
- But how can you sing soprano? Are you sure you did not have that surgery?
- I am, as if I did, you three would not exist. The technique can be learned as well, that's how I can. But not many people can learn it.
Thankfully Mahtab stopped asking questions, and Erik started to wonder if it is really a good idea to let her browse through his books so freely, without any limitations. He read everything as well when he was a boy, but Mahtab is a girl after all, and she really should not read about things that aren't for her gender and age. He shall be more careful about which book she gets between her skeletal fingers. He did not blame her for asking though. He nearly chuckled, as when he found out about that surgery in his teens, and his mutating voice was bothering him to no end, he was actually thinking how good it would be to have it performed on him, so that he won't lose the only beautiful thing in him: his clear soprano voice. He did not yet know that his adult voice will be even more pleasant.
One evening, while the family was having dinner together in Paris, suddenly the doorbell rang. It was usually Christine who answered the door, as Erik wasn't wearing his mask at home, and he needed time to put on his face, if it was actually him they were looking for, but it hardly ever happened. Erik just sat at the table, asking Flo to use his knife and fork instead of eating by his hands.
- No girl will ever date you without manners.
- Yet I will get married. – Flo lifted up the fork and tried to use it as Papa showed him.
- Yes, you will. – Erik nodded.
- I will marry Sophie. – He stated.
- Good, son, but marriage always needs two. – Erik smiled.
- Well, then I will marry Annabelle too. – Flo exclaimed happily.
- It is not allowed to have more than one wife at a time in France. – Erik chuckled.
- Then I move to Persia and marry everyone. – Flo found a solution right away.
- Oh, I am sure you will have the biggest harem there. – Erik shook his head with a short laugh.
Christine arrived back and informed Erik that the visitor is looking for him.
- Me? – He asked with surprise.
- Yes, I led him to the drawing room and asked him to be patient for some moments.
- Who that might be? – Erik stood up. – Should I put on the mask or it is just the Daroga?
- Not the Daroga, it is a stranger to me. Here is his card. – Christine handed Erik the visitor's card that said "Gustave Eiffel."
- Uh… well, I am back in a few minutes. Just keep on eating. I am sorry.
Erik disappeared to his study for some seconds to put on his human mask, and walked to the drawing room to have some talk with him.
Christine, of course, was curious as always. What these two people have to talk about? She, even though it was impolite, HAD TO find out what Eiffel and Erik are up to. Eiffel was a famous architect, and since he succeeded in building up the huge tower at the bank of the Seine, he was a much appreciated and respected person in all Paris. She told the children to stay at the table and eat, and she just snuck out to listen at the drawing room door.
- Once again, I would like to thank you for your cooperation, and your endless patience, Monsieur Spöke. I know I had a huge delay with payments, but…
- Please, my friend, don't feel obliged to apologize. I know how these issues work, having spent many years in building industry. – Erik replied calmly.
- You are a good person, and without you, our project wouldn't have became successful.
- It just HAD to be built. – Erik stated.
- I just don't understand why you not want your name to be written on the tower, along with the other people who had helped the building.
- I did not do it for fame, Gustave. – Erik said softly. – The important thing is the tower is built, despite the huge scandal around it in the beginning.
- I don't know how to say thank you. 4.2 million francs to lend is not a minor thing and I just don't know how to repay you.
- You already did, with this last payment, and the tower. Every time I pass it, my heart beats faster. – Erik's beautiful voice was filled with passion.
- Are you sure there is nothing I could help you with?
- No, my friend. I am already retired, so I don't need favors. I am glad I could help.
- God bless you, Erik. – The other man's voice sounded to be as touched as possible. – Thank you again for your help. I will be thankful for your help in all my life. Not only the money, however much it was, but your support meant a lot more sometimes.
- I know. – Erik replied.
Christine could not concentrate on the other sentences of the two people's conversation and just hurried to their bedroom to think.
Erik lent money to Monsieur Eiffel? More than 4 million francs? How on Earth did he have that much money? Christine started to have a bad feeling about this all. As she later found out, Erik was blackmailing 20 000 francs from the managers at the Opera House. She did not know how much money he actually had from that, but 4 million is a way more than she could imagine. How? Is Erik into something illegal? She was thinking, burying her face into her hands as she sat in front of the already repaired vanity table. If her husband is a thief still, what should she do?
The door opened behind her. She heard Erik entering the room and closed the door behind himself.
- What is wrong? Are you feeling ill? – He sounded worried. – You are here for hours. The children are already in bed.
- I am fine. – She answered shortly and coldly.
- Uh oh. – Erik sighed. – Well, now what is our mini drama about? I know that voice. Fight is coming.
- Erik, I want answers for my questions.
- Ask away. What questions?
- How can you lend 4 million francs to someone?
- Not someone, but Gustave Eiffel. He is not just a random "someone".
- You missed my point. How is that possible you lend him 4 million francs?
- Exactly 4 million 200 thousand francs and I also invited him for a coffee. – He remarked. – By the way I did not take any of your money. I paid it from my own. And besides, isn't it impolite to listen to conversations you are not involved in?
- Where did that money come from? – She slammed the hairbrush down in front of herself to ease her frustration. – How blind I was! Did I not realize how you literally are throwing money about…? The luxury in this house… how can we have a marble bath?
- Christine, the house is under a roof for 13 years. It is just about time to ask how I managed to economize its building out. – Erik laughed sarcastically.
- From what money did you buy that damned car?
- Stop it.
- Erik, you are stealing money from somewhere or….?
- Thank you for the kind words. I am sleeping in my study tonight. – Erik jumped up from the bedside, but Christine grabbed his arm as she hurried after him and pulled him back to the bed then pushed him back in a sitting position.
- You are not leaving until I know about your financial matters. Are you still blackmailing the managers?
- No. – Erik answered simply. – And all the money I owed them, I did repay when you left with the boy! Leave me alone!
- Then where is it from?
- It is my own money and you have nothing to do with it. We don't even lack of it anymore as Eiffel just repaid all his debts.
- Erik, I ask for one last time. If you don't answer, I pack my clothes and move away from here with the children!
A long pause followed Christine's angry sentences, then just as Christine put her suitcase off of the top of the dresser to pack things in it, Erik stated annoyedly.
- All right, follow me!
- Where? – She turned to him in a sudden interest.
- To my study.
Christine followed Erik curiously, now her anger started to fade as she was about to face some secret. Erik knelt down next to the bookshelf and pulled out a fake book from it, which caused the shelf slide away by a few centimeters, revealing a nail in the wall. Erik pressed it, and a small piece of the wall covering wood came off so Erik had enough room to reach into the wall. He pulled out a small wooden chest with a padlock on it. He then walked to the other end of the room where he kept a coat of his that he used rarely, and reached into its pocket for the padlock's key. As he opened the chest and carried it to Christine, the woman was speechless by its contents. Its drawer contained money in an envelope, but the majority of the contents were jewels of the most different kinds. Rings, earrings, bracelets, and precious stones.
- Where did you get these from? – She gasped.
- Persia and Turkey. The money is from Eiffel.
- How did you get so many treasures?
- It is not even half of what I had earlier. The house took a lot from these. I simply sold them.
- But… why did you hide them so carefully? Why did I not know about them?
- As if you have known it, I would not have anything to hide any more.
- What am I, a thief? – She groaned.
- Of course, not. But if you know I have these, you… well, Christine, please admit that you like to spend money a lot. By the end of the month you ask money from me always, even though you have full control over your salary and my superannuation allowance as well.
- True. – She lowered her head.
- I keep this as an ace in the hole, to be able to use it if badly needed. I admit that I spent some of it for the car, but I kept the rest. It is for the future of the children. University is a pricy thing, Christine.
- I see now. I promise not to spend a centime of it. But please tell me why did you give money to Eiffel?
- To have the tower built.
- How did you get involved in this? It was built after your retirement.
- Not exactly. I got in the project a year before Mahtab's birth.
- Eiffel owed you money for nearly 10 years?
- Yes.
- Please continue. What has happened?
- Back in 1884, Gustave Eiffel came up with the idea of the tower. In 1886, it was finally accepted, but many people, even Garnier signed a petition against it. Eiffel sent out some desperate letters and advertisements to all the people he knew were into architecture, and he found a name in Garnier's staff: Erik Spöke.
- So he found you?
- He was utterly desperate. Paris did not wish to have this building. They told him I used to be Garnier's right hand while the Opera Construction, so he searched for me, and showed me the design of the tower. I fell in love with the plans right away, you see. And the fact that both Barcelona and Paris did not want it, just made my enthusiasm the bigger about the project. This beauty was called "ugly", Christine. Do you hear me…? Ugly… As it wasn't a construction ordered by government, but Eiffel had to build it by his own charge, made Eiffel to be more sympathetic to me. Oh, Christine, if the world had more architects like him, it would definitely be a better place. Only God knows how much money I did spend on the Opera during the construction… and Eiffel just did the same.
- Only one problem was that he lacked money. – Christine nodded understandingly.
- Not exactly. He did have the same amount of money I had. We shared the charges in 50-50%, but neither of us could do it all alone, so we did it together. Despite of all the hatred and scandal that poor fellow received on his beautiful and enchanting plans and unique idea, the tower is built. And it will be there forever. And I am proud I could help. I admit, I used our money for my own fun, but in the end, Eiffel did repay each centimes. And I did it for Paris. Already the second time in my life. I gave an Opera House and I now I give half of the tower.
- It is all good now I know about it, but why didn't you tell me?
- Because of all the hatred that poor building received. I did not want you to yell at me for supporting a dead project. Christine, in the first two years it seemed like I will never see that money back. I was fed up with your aria that goes like "You have spent our family wealth on a tower that was never built!" in advance. If I was to lose that money, it would be better if you never knew that it existed at all.
- In a way you are right. – Christine admitted. – But only one more question you have to answer.
- Ask.
- Why did you need the 20 000 francs at the Opera if you had these jewels?
- Because of the same reason as I don't spend them now: I always considered these to be the last possibility to turn to. And well… I am ashamed to admit that I really liked how they freaked out by my notes. I see the wrong in my actions now, but back then I was so desperate for some attention, that even if it was negative attention, I loved it. Just as in my childhood. Erik was a bad child so that mother will beat and punish him, Christine… even during a beating… she was paying attention to Erik.
- God…
- Don't feel sorry for me. I hate it.
- I am sorry Erik. And also, I am sorry for the things I have said.
- I am not angry. – Erik informed her while closing the chest and outing it back on its place. – But I would rather sleep here tonight still.
- Are you sure? – Christine asked with guilt.
- Yes. No harm done, just… still.
- Then good night Erik. – She left the room with a sad expression and closed the door behind her.
Erik sat down to his desk, put a piece of paper in front of himself and doodled the Eiffel tower up until he fell asleep laying across his desk. When he woke up and lifted his head up, he noticed a cup of hot coffee in front of him with a small note with Christine's beautiful writing:
To my sweet husband,
No money or treasures can ever replace the biggest treasure which is beating in your own chest. That much love and devotion can turn the world to a better place. Stay as you are, I love you just like this.
Love with all my heart, your wife who loves you till the end of the days,
Here came a five –lined, one measure long sheet music which contained the notes: C, D, A, A, E.
