"What does Meg need now?"

"Why do you ask?"

"The look on your face." Christine says, lips pressed in a firm line. "The only time you appear even mildly apologetic or, dare I say, weak, is when it comes to your daughter."

"That is unfair."

"Defensive as well, you must be wanting a larger favor than usual," Christine turns from her vanity to face her former dance mistress, foster mother of sorts and, could she honestly say friend? More than an acquaintance, surely, their relationship over the years was a minefield – both of them treading softly over so many areas of contention, it was only Phantasma keeping them in one another's life. That and the fact Adele was the love of Nadir's life. There would be no Gustave without Nadir. There would be no Erik without Nadir, if truth be told. For her part, she loved the Persian dearly in his own right. If he loved Adele, then so would she, but from a distance.

Were it not for Meg, she supposed her feelings for Adele would be warmer. A mother should defend her child. However, Madame Giry's "mothering" created many of the issues her daughter wreaked upon her family. Adele's appearance now in her dressing room only foretold more problems being created by her former best friend.

"May I sit?"

"Of course, just toss the dress to one side, it needs mending."

"Rehearsal problems?"

Christine nods. "New choreography, new shoes and a slippery floor," she says. "At least I did not fall, caught myself on the piano, but the dress is in need of surgery."

Adele frowns. "Slippery floor?"

"Hmm, a very small puddle of some substance – I stepped in it and lost my footing for a moment," she says. "Odd, no?"

"Odd, yes," Adele says. "Who was on stage earlier?"

"You know who, Adele, that is why you are here, is it not?"

"Meg?" Adele shakes her head. "No, I did not know. With Julia being out with the new baby, I have no time to oversee anything to do with the theater these days."

"Then I apologize," Christine says. "Meg has decided to take the earlier rehearsal time."

"But it was decided…"

"As with most things, most of the time, it is easier to give in rather that deal with the upsets that ensue when Meg is distressed," Christine says. "Thankfully, I have better discipline with my own children. I have no energy to come here and battle a forty-year-old woman's tantrums."

"So water on the floor?"

Christine shrugs. "Something – not water. Sticky. An accident – she has taken to carrying around a bottle of something around with her, I doubt it is water. There are pitchers and glasses available in the wings."

"I will speak to her."

"That is up to you. I have no desire to know what she is drinking. For my own safety, I have simply asked the stage manager to be certain the stage is clean and set for me when she leaves." Christine says, standing up to move behind her dressing screen. "Now, what is it you want…for her? I am meeting Erik soon and I really need to change."

"This is probably not a good time. It can wait."

"For when I am in a better mood?" Christine's laugh is bitter. "Where your daughter is concerned, this is likely the best you are going to get."

"Louisa."

Christine moves from behind the screen, tucking her white silk blouse into a teal linen skirt that skims her ankles. "Louisa – is she is all right? Gregory has been bringing her here, Mrs. McInerny told me – I assumed because Meg is working on the show. I could not wish her to be in better hands."

"Meg took her from the nursery – she does not care for Mrs. McInerny."

Christine rolls her eyes. "So…?"

"They are coming to live with us."

"I see. And?"

"Well, Nadir is going to be helping Emilie learn Farsi and…"

"You want us to take care of Louisa at our home instead of bringing her here as a fair exchange of services?"

Adele nods. The tears forming in her eyes, quickly rubbed away with the back of her hand.

"You do not trust Meg, do you? With the little one?" Christine's tone softens. In many ways, having Louisa as a companion for Angelique would actually be a good thing. The little red-headed girl is a sweet child – taking after her father, thank goodness.

Adele shakes her head. "Gregory is beside himself as well. He went to the nursery school and found Louisa gone. Came running to my office. I have not seen him so upset in a very long time."

"Has Meg agreed to this?"

"She does not know. I had to convince Nadir to let them come live with us first."

"Adele!"

"I did not know what else to do."

"You are afraid she might try to harm her – like Gustave?"

"He came to my office in a panic and that was all I could think about – that night."

Christine sighs deeply. "Yes. I know."

"I do not trust her about anything anymore, Christine."

"Nor do I," she says, sighing deeply. "Let me talk to Erik."

"Move? I do not want to move – the apartment is perfect for us."

"Not any longer – not with you performing," Gregory says, pacing the floor of Meg's dressing room. "Louisa needs a room of her own, she needs to be around other children when we are working."

"She is fine with me here."

"No, she is not fine with you. Not anymore. She needs to play and run around, not sit on your lap or in a stroller, when you decide to interact with her at all. The nursery school was a perfect solution."

The object of their discussion looks from one parent to the other. Her pale blue eye well up with tears. "No fight. Please." Hands held over her ears, she throws herself on the chaise face down.

"Now look what you have done," Meg argues. "She was just calming down."

"Calming down from what?" Gregory scoops her up into his arms, pressing a kiss atop her carrot-colored hair – the exact shade of his mother's – done up in two braids hanging down her back. "It is all right, my love. Mama and Papa are just talking. I promise not to be so loud. All right?"

Louisa nods, resting against his chest, wrapping her legs around his waist, her thumb creeping up to rosebud lips.

"Your Mother has offered us a place in her home – she said they have more room than they use and a yard where Louisa can play."

"Do you really think Nadir will want me there, even if Maman wants it?"

"She assured me it would not be a problem."

"And who will take care of her when all of us are at work? I do not want her with that woman at the nursery."

"That woman at the nursery is Mrs. McInerny – mother to Julia and Helen…as well as Kathleen who is now working for Christine – the oldest boy is in training as a waiter in the restaurant. But, no. I will not force that horror on you." Gregory sits down on the chaise, rocking a sleepy Louisa, ignoring Meg's glare.

A light of awareness flashes in her deep blue eyes. "No. Not there. I will not have Erik raising my child."

"Our child – and he would not be raising her – Louisa would be cared for by Angelique's nanny and begin some classes with Gloria," he says softly.

"Paaaaa!" Louisa's eyes pop open and begins to struggle in his arms.

"What it is, baby?"

"Tummy hurts."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Louisa, stop complaining," Meg snaps.

"Sick." Bending away from his grip, she dry heaves.

"Get me a towel," Gregory orders Meg.

Grabbing a napkin from the coffee table, she hands it to him.

Taking the linen square, he rises from the couch and carries Louisa into the bathroom setting her down next to the commode.

Although still heaving, nothing comes up.

"Bring me a cup of water," he calls out.

"Is she all right?" Meg hands him a cup of water which he holds to the toddler's lips.

"Better?"

Louisa nods. "No feel good, Papa," she says, falling back into her father's arms, hiccoughing.

After patting her back softly, she belches loudly, followed by a giggle, repeating the sound once more for good measure.

"Better now, Lulu?" Lifting her up, he sits her on the edge of the sink and wipes her face with dampened wash rag.

Nodding, she licks her lips. "Tastes bad. Wanna go home. Can I have a pudding?"

"Home it is and pudding you shall have," he says, chucking her dimpled chin.

"Sleepy."

Scooping her into his arms, he kisses her forehead. "Go to sleep. I shall wake you when we are home."

"She is all right?" Meg asks, taking his arm.

"Did she eat anything that might have caused this?" Pulling away from her, he makes his way to the door. "Nothing came up – just dry heaves. Something upset her stomach."

"No. I do not know. What could it be? Something from that nursery no doubt." Meg follows him, grabbing her canes to steady her walk. "Slow down, I cannot keep up."

Sighing, he slows his pace, turning back to look at her. "You have had her for the past several hours, Meg. Was she acting sick when you were rehearsing?"

"She was cranky. I was trying to learn a new song…"

Stopping in his tracks, glaring at her, he asks, "What did you give her?"

"Just a taste of the cough medicine I take. I thought it would calm her down. It never bothered her before."

"Before? What cough medicine? I have not given you any cough medicine."

"There was some in the infirmary. For my voice."

"Damn you." Picking up his pace again, he says, "You know very well you are not supposed to take any medication I do not specifically give you…or take anything from the infirmary. I knew you were the one stealing the stuff."

"Will she be all right? I only gave her a taste, honestly, not even half a spoonful. I only wanted to help her feel better."

"Just like the drugs help you," he growls. "That cough medicine is full of codeine, you were addicted to it once before. Thankfully, it only upset her stomach – had she not become ill, I would not know you have been drugging her…and yourself."

"You are making too much of this"

"Am I? Do you think I have magically forgotten the past?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Right now? I am taking her home because she will feel safe there…and home where she wants to be," he says, pulling the dozing child closer to his chest. "Get some food into her stomach to counteract the drug. It appears she is allergic to it, which is why she tried to throw it up – you never noticed?"

"Usually she just goes to sleep – I have only given it to her a few times – a little on her lips – not as much as today."

"What kind of mother are you?" His pale green eyes harden. "I thought you loved her – you were so happy…we were so happy. I thought we were in any event. What happened?"

Tears flow down her cheeks, mascara bleeding into the rouge she took to wearing to brighten a complexion gone sallow and dull. "I do not know. I wanted to perform again. To be on the stage."

"You did not have to drug your daughter to have those things," he growls. "You were getting everything you wanted – Louisa was being cared for." Turning away. "I cannot look at you right now. I am taking her home."

"And then?"

"I do not know at this point." His stare is hard. "Living with your mother does not appear to be an option anymore at this point."

"What about me?"

"What you do is no longer of any concern to me."

"I want to go home, too."

"Not tonight. Not with us. Stay in your dressing room or take a room at the hotel," he says. "I do not want to be near you tonight. I truly do not know what I would do."

"Gregory…"

"No. No more. I will speak to you in the morning."