Interim
Paris 1919
The music box sat in the seat next to the young woman. She was now watching the Opera House disappear as they drove away. She glanced back to see the figure of the ballet mistress standing there. She sighed and turned back to the music box. She slowly slid her hat off, letting her dark, curly hair fall down.
"Louis," she said, staring out the window at the countryside.
"Yes, Mademoiselle," the driver replied.
"Is my brother coming home today?"
"I think so."
The young woman sighed. She closed her eyes, thinking about her mother. She felt the car bump under her and opened her eyes. They were driving up a cobble-stone driveway that led to a large, old, Victorian, home. The house was white, two-story, mansion type with a balcony on both floors. The young girl smiled when she noticed a tall, lean figure blowing smoke rings off the upstairs balcony.
"It looks like Monsieur Gaston is already here," Louis said.
"Yes," the girl said. "I hope everything is well."
"Have faith, Mademoiselle."
The woman sighed. The car slowly lurched to a stop. She gathered up her things and grabbed the music box. She walked inside the grand foyer. She was met by the maid, who quickly took her coat and hat.
"Did you get it?" came a smooth, sophisticated, voice from the stairs.
The woman looked up to see a lean, tall, young man walking down the stairs. Like her, his hair was dark and his eyes were a pale blue color. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked at her.
"I got the music box," she said.
"That's not what I was asking about," he replied shortly.
"No, they never sold it."
"Did the old woman have it?"
"Gaston, she has a name. And you should show a little more respect for one of Mother's friends."
"Spare me and answer the question."
"No, Madame Giry didn't have it, and her daughter didn't come."
"Her daughter is the one who has it!" Gaston shouted.
"I know that!" The woman shouted back just as loud.
"Meg," Gaston paused after saying the young woman's name. "If Madame Giry's daughter has it, why didn't you talk to her about it?"
"I got what Mother wanted."
"She wanted the mask!"
Meg swung around, landing a firm crack on Gaston's cheek. Gaston took a step back from the sudden outburst.
"You are a fool, Gaston," Meg fumed. "Mother wanted his music box to remember him. Not that cursed mask to remind her!"
Gaston reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some cigarettes. Meg quickly snatched them from his hand.
"Not in the house," she snapped. "Or near Mother's room."
Gaston took the pack back and headed for the door. He put a cigarette in his mouth and stopped. He slowly turned to Meg.
"I'm almost finished with the book."
Meg turned around, her face registering only horror. She walked over to her brother and stood toe-to-toe with him.
"You can not publish it," she ordered.
"I have already sold it to a Paris publishing company," Gaston replied plainly. He quickly turned from his sister and walked outside.
Meg rushed the door as he pulled it closed. She wanted to scream and hit him. She felt the tears welling in her eyes as she started up the stairs with the music box.
She walked to the end of the long hallway and went inside the huge room. It was flooded with late afternoon sun. She looked around and found that the four post bed was empty. She looked over at the fainting couch by the window and saw the shape of an old woman.
"Mother," Meg said softly.
There was no answer. Meg slowly walked in the room and over to the couch. She then found her mother sleeping; she smiled. She took the music box over to the bedside table and sat it down. She started it playing. She then walked to the window.
"Mademoiselle," a maid said.
Meg looked over at the young maid. She seemed nervous about interrupting Meg. She bounced from one foot to the other.
"What is it, Mary?" Meg asked.
The young girl smiled a little. "Philippe De Changy is downstairs."
Meg's air of relaxation faded away. She rushed out of the room and down the stairs. Anyone watching her would think she was intent on murder. She flew down the stairs and stopped at the bottom, face to face with the son of Raoul De Changy.
