"You look exhausted," Nadir says, as he rises from behind his desk to assist Adele it to the more comfortable of the two visitor chairs he has in his office – if only by benefit of the green tufted velvet upholstery absent in other chair. A subtle, but noticeable reminder to the party occupying the seat to make their visit short. "A cup of tea?"

"Only if you have some not sugared," she replies, settling into the chair, kicking off her shoes. "My god, these feet of mine have truly declared war on me."

"I thought they did that years ago," Nadir hands her the fine China teacup and saucer reserved for her use alone, before moving to the back of her chair to massage her shoulders.

"Skirmishes, but not all out war," she grumbles, taking a sip of tea. "Mmmm, excellent tea – excellent massage."

"A tea is fine Ceylon."

"Good choice. Just enough bite and a lovely fragrance."

"The masseuse fine Persian."

"Also with just enough bite and a lovely fragrance – you and Erik seem to be sharing the same cologne these days."

"Holy oils he calls them – cinnamon and myrrh."

"At least it is not the patchouli some of the dancers prefer these days."

"He was just here, so the scent is likely stronger than usual," he says, moving back to his place behind the partners' desk, lifting his own cup in a toast. "Will you consider a wheelchair now? Both Sorelli and Meg seem to like taking the pressure off, not to mention the convenience."

"I can see us now – three cripples wheeling our way around the theater with our little bells to warn people we are coming up behind them," she says. "I can hear the whispers already. I have already heard the whispers about Veronique and Meg. I prefer to still be seen as strong, if mildly inconvenienced. Besides my staff provides a wonderful attention getter when people get rowdy."

"My dearest wife, no one will ever think otherwise of you."

A finely penciled eyebrow rises. "They will smell blood, I tell you, and my control will diminish like cotton candy when touched by a moist tongue."

"Interesting analogy," Nadir laughs. "At least you did not say a sugar cube in a cup of tea."

"I was saving your feelings, but, yes, that, too."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asks. "I imagined you deep into invoices and waybills with Julia still taking leave."

A deep sigh escapes, her body relaxes more deeply into the chair. "I was until Gregory came in looking like he was being chased by the devil."

Nadir frowns. "Gregory? He is quite the last person I would imagine in such a state. Calmest human I have ever met. One has to be to juggle axes and lit torches."

"You forget he is married to Meg and no longer has a juggling act."

"Even so…as a doctor…he is always in control."

"Meg has that effect on people – even you," Adele smirks. "Sheriff of Mazandaran, servant to the Shah, expected to maintain a persona no one could penetrate is unable to restrain from showing your, shall we say, obvious dislike for my daughter."

"It is quite simple, actually, she tried to kill Gustave – I can never forget that."

"Nor can I – I wonder you do not blame me as well," Adele says, searching his face. "It was my influence who drove her to the edge."

"People have their own will regardless of their upbringing," Nadir says. "Erik is a perfect example of someone whose mother could not have been more hateful, not to mention others he has met along his life's path – some of which I myself witnessed – yet has changed his life. I doubt you ever hated or ridiculed Meg."

"Worse…I encouraged her to hate herself and to believe a lie."

"And I watch you blame yourself and attempt to make amends every day. The punishment you lay at your own feet, no pun intended, but your feet do seem to be your personal hell. That is enough without any criticisms from me."

Placing the cup on his desk, she removes a plain linen handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe her eyes. "As for Erik, he is different in almost all ways to other people."

"And so we all tend to stand by and watch her create havoc in almost any way she can. Poor Meg."

"Stop it – she is just weak." Adele shakes off her tears, wiping her nose, she tuck the handkerchief back into her sleeve. "Meg was never of strong character. A gifted dancer and so lovely…but spoiled. My fault, too."

Nadir leans back into his own chair, examining the woman across from him.

How could he love two such disparate women? Mitra was more delicate in appearance by far. More excitable, but ever gentle. Never could he imagine her tapping…pounding a walking stick on the floor bringing everything in the near vicinity to a halt. More likely she would sing in her sweet alto, encouraging everyone to have another chickpea cookie with pistachios, a smile ever present on her face and in her pale green eyes.

Everything about Adele was strong and handsome, from her straight nose to the posture she maintains despite the pain he knows she experiences at all times. Handsome – a small frame, but strong…as she referred to herself. Not a beauty by any means in a traditional sense. Meg's delicate features most definitely came from her father. One might be surprised they were even related – both physically and in how they behave. The only similarity would be their love of dance and the ability to thrill audiences.

The beauty of Adele's face comes from dark eyes – pools so deep one could search and search but see no light. Mysterious. Thankfully, she has an honest tongue, able to speak without fear – there is seldom any doubt what Adele is thinking. Black hair, now streaked with white, no longer pulled back into a chignon with a braid curved across the crown – Christine having managed to convince her to adopt the same bobbed look she herself wears with a fringe of bangs. While still favoring black dresses, bits of red now appear at her collar or cuffs – faille exchanged for softer wools and linens. No, here is nothing soft visibly apparent about his wife.

Handsome and formidable. Except when it comes to her daughter. "What has she done now?"

"Adele." Gangle can barely get her name out, his breathing heavy, perspiration forming against his receding hairline.

Taking the doctor's arm, Adele guides him to the love seat upholstered in a deep green brocade. Closing the ajar door, she goes to the white antiqued armoire to pour him a glass of water from a porcelain pitcher. "Whatever has you in such a state?"

"Running. Too fast. Too old." He manages a chuckle. "Louisa. She was not in the nursery when I went to pick her up."

"Louisa's gone – I do not understand. How? No one is allowed to just walk in and visit the children." Adele forces down the bile threatening to rise in her throat.

"What have you done with him?"

"Who?"

"Gustave. He is missing. I should never have trusted you with all your talk of Phantasma belonging to you. All that you have done for me. I would never have cut you out of your share. I promised you."

"Erik, I honestly do not know what you are talking about. The boy was backstage waiting for Christine to sing."

"Matron said Meg took her."

"So why are you upset?" The beating of her heart hardly calms at his words.

"Madame Giry, Meg is gone. The mirror in her dressing room broken."

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, I swear."

"If she harms him…"

"She would never harm him."

"I am not certain she is all right. Meg has been behaving strangely again…"

"I thought things were fine with the baby – with your family. Meg devoted to Louisa, almost to the exclusion of everything else."

"She was…or so I thought. Wanted to go back to work," Gregory says, pressing his face against his hands resting his elbows on his knees. "She seemed pleased with Mrs. McInerny and the nursery. That Louisa would be with other children."

"It sounds just perfect."

"I am glad you think so – Mrs. McInerny is looked upon highly by the other parents and young Grace is the sweetest girl."

"Does Christine bring her children?"

"No. You know Gloria is schooling them."

"So Christine does not trust Mrs. McInerny?"

"Hardly – the woman is Julia's mother! One could not come with a better recommendation. Grace is Julia's sister. They simply have the staff at their house," he responded. "I would imagine Gustave and Julia will bring little Bridgette when she is older. Adele is anxious for Julia to come back to work."

"Yes, some of us do have to work. Seems Erik is putting Julia's entire family to work. Why does he just not support all of them – how many are there?"

"What different does it make how many are in the family? They want to work. Why not here? The conditions are the best around…as is the pay. What is wrong? I thought you wanted to come back to work yourself. Claimed you were becoming bored. I do not understand you."

"I wondered about Erik giving her the new song to sing – headlining her. Not above Christine, but still not the Oo La La Girl, by any means. Something she always dreamed of. She came and told me and, as you say, was happy for the chance."

"When did you last see her?"

Adele shrugs. "Two weeks perhaps. We still balance on tenterhooks around one another. I doubt that will ever be entirely resolved. She certainly does not confide in me. I thought her coming to share her news was a new start for us."

"I did an inventory of the medicine cabinet, and a bottle of cough syrup was missing," he blurts out.

"You did not misplace it?" Another tremor rises from her chest to her throat.

"No, the order had just come in. The bottle was new, one of four. With a new show, I did not want to run short. Another bottle was moved over to take its place."

"Even if Meg took the medication, I still do not understand why you would be worried about her taking Louisa."

"Lately she has become bored with caring our daughter," he sighs. "I was doing most of the care, but Meg loved holding her, singing to her. Playing dress-up. With the teething and Louisa becoming more of a person, Meg…well, her interest began to fade. When I found the baby and the bottle missing, I panicked."

"You thought she came to me?"

"No, not really. I just needed to tell you." The sobs cannot be held back. "Adele, I do not know what to do."

"What exactly did Mrs. McInerny say?"

"That Meg was with the piano player – Edward. He was pushing her chair. Just said she wanted Louisa with her."

"Nothing about where she was going?" Adele asks.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Where would she go. I drove us here, so I do not know how she planned to go home."

"Have you checked your office?"

"No," he says. "Do you think…"

"Let us check the theater first. Maybe she was simply taking her there…if Edward was with her, I doubt there is any real need for concern at the moment."

"She was at the theater, I take it…since you are here?" Nadir asks.

"Yes," Adele sighs. "Louisa was sleeping. Meg was singing. Edward was playing. All very normal."

"Except?"

"Her eyes had the same look from the night on the pier."

"When she shot you?"

"When she was planning to shoot herself and before, when I told her I discovered Gustave was Erik's child."

"You left her there?"

"With Gregory. He sees it as well – better than I, thus his fear and why he came to me."

"And?"

"They are coming back to live with us."

Pulling back his head as if slapped, he pauses, considering her words, he presses the fingertips of his hands together, forming a pyramid. "This is decided?"

"Only if you agree – I only just thought of it."

His deep sigh is audible. "I suppose I am happy for that consideration."

"I know. I know." The dark eyes make her strongest appeal. "She is my daughter. Louisa is my granddaughter."

"How do you plan to convince her this is the best thing to do?"

"You are agreeable, then?"

"She is your child. I cannot refuse you."

"I will think of something. Finances, convenience – more space – when I do speak to her she is always complaining about the size of their flat." Taking a deep breath, she says, "Thank you."

"I suppose I should tell you something I have taken on for myself – having also to do with the children of a loved one."

"What? Erik? He has more than enough help with his children – including the fact they have a loving mother no one is concerned about going mad."

"There is that, however none of whom can teach them…or at least one who wishes to learn Persian."

"Let me guess: Emilie? Dear lord. Why could it not be Margaret?"

"Margaret draws and dances."

"Besides being terribly spoiled and a brat, Emilie has no talent."

"Um, perhaps just nothing we have recognized yet – Erik says she has a gift for languages and creating wonderful stories."

Adele grunts. "Where will you teach her?"

"I thought at their home, since it is nearby and something I could do before coming here."

"Perhaps, it is time for Louisa to begin school – she is not much older than Angelique," Adele says raising an eyebrow. "Do you think they would notice one more child? An eye for an eye in a manner of speaking."

"We can ask."

"Good. Then it is settled," she smiles, a tad wickedly, lifting her cup in a toast. "They dare not say no."

Nadir sighs deeply. "I just wish we did not have the need to ask."

"It is for Meg."

"It is always for Meg. I just wonder when it will end with her issues."

"Worry about the child for now. I will think of something."