Chapter 34
Carmelita and Sly sat upon a sofa in the entertainment center of Le Hotel Champlain, enjoying yet another restful day of things for once. "Mmm, this is nice," Carmelita opined, snuggling close to Sly, nestling her head into the hollow of his shoulder.
"I'm certainly not complaining," Sly teased, hugging the lovely vixen closer to himself. "Hey, I'm looking forward to tonight. I can't wait to see Yuri's face when my pal pops the question." Sly's smile was devilishly contagious.
"Well, everyone's been briefed, handsome," Carmelita told him, looking up into his deep brown eyes. "And, Jean-Pierre has told us everything is ready for dinner this evening. He's even beefed up the Bistro's security…to give poor Yuri some peace this evening. Poor thing."
"I'm sure it'll all go along as planned, querera," Sly assured her. "But, until then…you're mine, and I'm not in the mood for sharing." Sly gave her a possessive look and a clever grin.
"Ooh," Carmelita cooed, snuggling closer. "I think I like the way you think, Sly Cooper."
Sly grinned, and kissed his lady love…and not for the last time!
Same time, within Interpol Paris HQ…
Trish stood outside Keiko's cell, quietly watching the woman curled up on her bunk, her back to her. She and Walter Dale had worked most of the day trying to determine the veracity of Keiko's claims, but not with much luck. Trish shook her head, and headed back to her desk.
"Trish, are you still here?" Walter Dale asked gently, grinning as he saw he had startled Trish. "Go home, dear…neither of us will be much good without some rest. Fresh minds work much sharper than tired ones, you know."
"Aye, Walter…you're right," Trish accepted with a nod. She fetched her jacket, locked her desk, and headed out. "See you tomorrow, Walter…"
"Farewell, Miss Connelly," Walter said as he too headed back to his desk and eventually home…
Trish headed toward the front door, purse over her shoulder…only to stop as she spotted two very familiar figures just outside the entrance. She grinned, and decided to eavesdrop this once…
Kitty linked her fingers then raised her hands high over her head, stretching until she bounced on her tiptoes. "Ooh, what a day," Kitty announced, relaxing and easing herself back down flat on her feet. "Who knew paperwork could be such a drag?"
"Paperwork is indeed odious," Ling Chu agreed. "However, that task is gratefully behind us now, my love."
"Hey, you're right, fella," a very pleased Kitty agreed, smiling. "And, it's Friday. And, on top of all that…it's the Day!"
Ling shook his head, grinning. 'The Day'---as Kitty had taken to calling it---was the day that their friend Bentley would ask the incomparable Yuri Sing to be his wife. All of the members of the Cooper Gang---and its extended family---were all excited by that prospect…and had been for weeks. "As if I could forget, eh Kitty?" Ling pointed out. "However, we have only a couple of hours to clean ourselves up and get prepared. So, my sweet…we had better get cracking." Ling then played his ace-in-the-hole. "We both know how someone likes to linger in the shower…"
"I do not linger," Kitty protested, but grinned as Ling took her hand
"Faith, look what's the cat drug in," Trish ventured, grinning as she saw Kitty and Ling whirl about, obviously startled.
"Cute, Trish," Kitty said drolly. "Very cute. So…finally headed home then, Cap'n?" Kitty asked.
"Yeh have a rare wit, so yeh do, Kitty darlin'," Trish observed.
Kitty waved away Trish's statement. "So…when did you get the happy news of your promotion?" Kitty asked, clearly wanting to know.
"Right after we apprehended Keiko Zuikawa and her gang o' course," Trish answered, looking around. Satisfied that no one was within listening distance of them, she added, "Could yeh pass along me thanks to our mutual friend next time yeh see her, eh Kitty?"
"Sure thing! Not a problem, Trish," Kitty promised. "Hey, we got to go…but, thanks for telling me…you know, about your promotion. See you tomorrow, sport!" She and Ling waved good-bye and they headed home.
Trish, on the other hand, had no plans of going home just yet. She was far too keyed up this evening to go just home to read or watch TV. She needed some outlet to release all the pent-up energy in her system…and she knew just the thing for that. She started her green Citroen, slipped it into gear, and headed out into the traffic.
A few minutes later, she parked her car outside an establishment named Sorbonne Archers, where she belonged to a league she had joined a few months back. Being Irish, and a bit of tomboy in her youth, Trish had always been keen on archery, and after joining the league, she stopped by whenever she had the time or when she had too much going on in her head. Fetching her bow case and quiver, she made her way inside the nearly windowless building. She moved over to confront Maurice, the polite yet somewhat ditzy guy that ran the club's front desk. She moved forward, and smiled wanly at the little energetic squirrel young man. "I'd like a lane fer two hours, if yeh can manage it. Can yeh do that fer me, Maurice me friend?" she asked hopefully.
"Ah, for you…of course, Ms. Connelly," Maurice told her with a grin. "Now, which lane woud you like to practice on this evening, hmm? According to my chart…lanes four, seven, and ten are currently available."
"Why, then I'll take lucky lane seven! Thanks, Maurice," Trish said.
"Of course, Ms. Connelly, do enjoy yourself," Maurice called after her good-naturedly.
"I will, don't you doubt it," Trish told the man, smiling and headed down toward lane number seven. Once there, she uncased and strung her bow, took up her first arrow, and began her practice. After her first three shots, she noticed the archer to her right at lane number eight. He was tall fellow, a rather striking looking white and creamy brown colored lupine gentleman. He was wearing a trim, deep greenish-brown uniform, bearing insignia Trish had never seen before. He wore tall brown boots, and his pants were slightly blousy around his thighs with tan stripes running up the outside of each leg. A black shiny leather belt encircled his trim waist to which a single thin leather strap ran up across his chest, starting at the right side of his waist, going over his left shoulder and back to his right back attaching to his belt. He wore an odd hat…one Trish swore she had seen somewhere before, but just couldn't place where. The man removed the hat, and Trish noticed his hair was a slightly deeper creamy brown than his fur, and very neat. Strangest of all---Trish was startled to see---his handsome eyes were two different colors, his left one being blue, while his right was green. Hmm, she mused, a most unusual gentleman, an' that's a fact!
Trish fired off a shot, then rested her bow, and found her gaze again drawn to her right. She watched the wolf gent pick up an arrow---longer than her own---and gently nock it to his bowstring. Trish raised a most curious reddish-blonde eyebrow as she watched him hook his thumb---which bore a metallic ring on the first joint of his thumb---on the string just below the arrow's nock. He then straightened up, held his bow out at arm's length, smoothly drew---and hit the outermost ring of the target. Trish grinned at the look of embarrassment on the poor guy's face. "Excuse me, sir…but, by chance, are yeh new here?" she asked.
"I beg your pardon?" the wolf fellow asked politely, looking to his left to where Trish stood. He saw a smaller, though very attractive vixen with sparkling, intelligent green eyes, and lips that hinted a smile he imagined would nearly take his breath away. "I do apologize, but I didn't hear you."
"I said, are yeh new here?" Trish repeated, her gaze taking in the odd brass insignia on his collar and epaulettes.
The wolf smiled in embarrassment, flicking his gaze away from her a moment before her returned it. "Is it really that obvious?" he asked, giving her a half-grin that made Trish's heart skip a beat. He spoke with an odd, yet pleasant accent that Trish just couldn't place.
Trish smiled then shook her head. "A bit, I'm afraid," Trish replied truthfully. "Yeh've got the oddest grip I've ever seen, so yeh do."
"Well, I suppose that would be due to the fact that I learned archery on my own, you see, and found the eastern thumb ring and draw more to my liking," the wolf gent explained, wiggling his thumb to show her the ring he bore there.
"Very inventive," Trish teased, and laughed softly at the poor fellow's answering blush. "Don't mind me, I'm just teasin' is all." Trish was enjoying herself…a rare enough treat.
"Ah, I see," the wolf fellow replied politely, then grinned. "Um…would there be any chance---any chance at all?---of asking you for some assistance then?" The look of hope in the man's mismatched eyes was hard for Trish to ignore.
"Sure, why not?" Trish answered, intrigued by this fellow. "Though, there'll only be so much I can do with that odd draw o' yers, yeh understand."
"Quite understandable, Miss," the wolf gent replied with a gentle appreciative smile. "Oh, I do apologize. We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Derian Lambert. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma'am." He held out his large callused hand to her in invitation to shake.
Trish looked at this Derian fellow a moment, then laughed and shook his offered hand. "Tis grand to be meetin' yeh, Mr. Lambert," Trish replied. "I be Trish. Trish Connelly."
"Connelly?" Derian replied, his gaze curious a moment. "Hmm, with a name like Connelly, and that charming accent I'm detecting in your speech…could I safely make the assumption that you may be Irish then?"
Trish liked the way this unassuming fellow talked…it was far different than she was used to, but…well, had a charm all its own. "Aye, I'm Irish, so I am," Trish answered. "Is that a problem?" she challenged, just to see his reaction.
Derian blinked, then realized he might of given offense. "No! Please, I do apologize…you see, actually I am rather intrigued by the Irish," Derian hurried to assure the pretty vixen. "I have a…well, slight obsession with the lore and mythos of your homeland, Miss Connelly…well, as well as many others too, I'm forced to admit." He grinned that charming half-grin of his again.
Trish nodded her understanding…though, privately, she thought to herself, a mythology nut? Hmm, will wonders never cease, she laughed to herself. "So, ye're a man o' many talents, are yeh now?" she mused, then grinned…just a bit devilishly. "Exceptin' yer work with the bow, o' course…"
Derian blushed softly, but laughed. "I do suppose you make a valid point, Miss Connelly," Derian admitted just a bit ruefully. "You see, I've been away from the sport for a while now, and…well, apparently, I've allowed my skills to atrophy a bit too much for my own good."
Atrophy? Trish mused, forcing down a giggle. My, my, a regular professor we have here, she told herself, more than a little amused. "Not too worry, laddie buck," Trish assured him a bit brashly. "It'll all come back to yeh before too long. Just like ridin' a wee bike, so I'm told."
Derian found Trish's bright green eyes mesmerizing, and blinked a moment later as he realized he was staring into them…right that very moment! Heavens! He cleared his throat, and looked away from her very pretty eyes. "Ahem. I'm sure you're right, Miss," he told her quickly, trying hard to hide his boldness of a moment ago.
Trish---thankfully!---hadn't noticed Derian's attentions, and blithely moved along. "Now, as I see it, yer problem seems t' be the way yer holdin' yer arm so stiff. Yeh've got to relax, Mr. Lambert…nice and sure and slow…that's the ticket. Give 'er another try now…there yeh go," Trish suggested.
Derian grinned over at Trish thankfully. "Ah, I see. Thank you kindly, Miss Connelly," Derian replied, nodding…smiling over at Trish, who blinked to find herself blushing. She watched as Derian---what a nice name, she told herself…then blinked in surprise---selected an arrow, nocked it, set his thumb to the bowstring. He then concentrated on the target downrange, took a breath, held it, and extended his bow, being sure to relax his elbow. He then drew his large bow back, his jacket sleeve bulging as he drew to full draw. A moment later, Trish heard him begin to exhale and then---snap!---his arrow sped downrange to slam into the next to innermost ring.
Trish couldn't help but return the triumphant smile that Derian sent her way. He had a boyish kind of smile, and that was rather intriguing to poor Trish. She decided she needed a distraction, so she looked away and picked up an arrow of her own, and addressed the target. She nocked her arrow, smoothly drew her bow back until her hand rested beside her ear, and let her arrow fly. "Ah! A bulls-eye!" She crowed as she saw her results.
"I take it, you've done this before then, hmm?" Derian observed, apparently having watched Trish's last shot. "Very nicely done, Miss."
"Thanks, but that was me best shot o' the day, y' see," Trish hastily explained, pleased by his praise, but embarrassed by it as well.
"Ah, of course," Derian allowed, nodding his head to the now unsettled Trish. "Hmm, do you suppose you might give me a few more pointers, Miss Connelly…it appears I'm a bit rustier than I had originally thought."
"I don't see why not," Trish remarked, nodding in reply. "But, not too much, y'see…I've only got less than two hours. And, I don't want to be wastin' me shooting time…I only get out once a week as it is…me bein' so busy an' all."
"Ah, yes," Derian replied sagely, "the sign of our times, it does appear…"
Trish felt odd, and decided to explain further. "True. But, as I've just become a Captain at Interpol, it fair takes up all o' me time, or so it seems."
Derian's ears locked forward, and his mismatched eyes perked with interest. "Oh? So, you're with law enforcement, are you?" Derian posed, his voice full of interest.
Trish shook her head, giving him a laugh. "Being with Interpol, I'd almost have to be, don't yeh think?" Trish teased, grinning.
Derian grinned, his cheeks going pink a moment. "Quite. I'm in law enforcement as well, Miss Connelly," Derian told her with pride. He then brought his heels together, and bowed his head to Trish. "I'm Constable Derian Lambert, RCMP." Derian saw the look of incomprehension in Trish's green eyes, and stammered a translation. "Er, sorry…that would be Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Miss…"
Trish blinked to hear that. So, that was what he was! "Ah,. so you're a Mountie, are yeh then?" Trish said with a grin. "My my…yeh're a long way from home, aren't yeh, Mr. Lambert?" She then canted her head curious.
"Indeed. Actually, a bit farther than you would imagine, Miss," Derian allowed, though politely. "You see, I was originally assigned to the Skagway Post…that's in the Yukon Territories, by the way." Derian flushed briefly again, and hastily added, "I'm not sure if you are at all familiar with Canada or its geography, Miss Connelly, but…" Derian then realized he was rambling, and grimaced. "Sorry. Um, suffice to say that extraordinary circumstances have led to me accept the post available at the Canadian Embassy here in Paris. I've been on this assignment for four months now."
"Yeh must be sore disappointed then," Trish teased further, enjoying herself. "Not too many opportunities for a fella used to ridin' a horse in Paris now, is there?"
Derian grinned, his eyes twinkling. "No, that's true enough," he answered with that same adorable shy smile. "However, Miss Connelly, do allow me to point out it is a common misconception that Mounties are on horseback at all times. Actually, it's only during ceremonies and formal occasions that we ride, you understand."
"That's fair interestin'," Trish told him, then grinned, shaking her head. "Oh, an' call me Trish, would yeh?"
Derian blinked, then grinned. "You don't mind the familiarity of my doing so?" he asked, pointing out, "I mean, we've only just met, you know."
Trish grinned, charmed at this likeable yet somewhat naïve fellow. "Aye, I do realize that, Derian---was it?" Trish countered. "But, I much prefer Trish to Miss Connelly, if'n it's all the same to you."
"Trish it is, then," Derian answered, nodding and filing that information away. "Please, Miss…then you must call me Derian." Derian then shrugged, grinning again. "Fair is fair, yes?"
"That works for me, bucko," Trish replied, smiling as she picked up her next arrow. She knew Derian was watching her shot, and was not in any way surprised when her short strayed from her intended target a bit. "Oh, well," Trish admitted. "Practice makes perfect, they always say."
"So, Trish," Derian asked---stumbling at using the pretty girl's first name. "Um, might I inquire something?"
Trish now watched Derian select another of his huge, nearly meter long arrows and lay it upon his bowstring. "Go on now…ask away," she urged.
"What's it like being a Captain with Interpol?" Derian wanted to know. "I expect it must be rather rewarding and exciting work."
Trish laughed again. She noticed she did a lot of that when this odd wolf gent around. "It can be, Derian," Trish admitted to him, but then let the other shoe drop, so to speak. "But, do realize, me bucko, that it can be frustratin', borin', and on odd occasion downright frightenin' too."
"Oh, really?" Derian asked, intrigued now. He fired his shot, and grunted as it nicked the ring around the bulls-eye. He then looked back over at Trish. "Might I ask you for an example of such occurrences then?"
"Faith, but yeh're an inquisitive sort," Trish countered with a soft laugh. "But, no…I don't mind at all." Trish lined up, and cast her next shot---another bulls-eye. She nodded at her accomplishment. "Very well then, Derian Lambert…let me tell yeh first about the excitin' part…an' to do that, let me first tell yeh about a wee scamp I work with, the name o' Kitty Petro…"
Derian canted his head, and listened in rapt attention.
Meanwhile, back at the Sing Chateau, Rue de Mer…
Naomi groaned, then collapsed wearily upon a sofa. "Mon Dieu…what a day, Madame," she muttered.
Yuri Sing, sat with a odd smile of contentment on her lovely face. She took a sip of her herbal tea, then smiled over at her dearest friend, who slumped upon her camel-colored sofa. "A hard day I take it, eh Naomi?"
"You cannot imagine, Yuri my friend," Naomi replied. "I had no idea there would be such days as this." She looked over to her pregnant friend, and shook her platinum-blonde head in wonder. "How do you manage, mon ami?"
Yuri laughed softly, understanding what Naomi meant, all too well. "It can be a bit over-powering at first, I will admit," Yuri told her, then took yet another sip of her tea, which she was actually growing to like. "But, slowly, you become accustomed to it, cheri. Do not be so discouraged, Naomi…you are doing just fine."
"I will take your word on that, Yuri," Naomi muttered, then opened her eyes to nearly glare over at the quiescent telephone. "It is my imagination…or is that infernal thing actually ringing still?"
Yuri grinned. "No, it is not ringing, cheri," Yuri assured her. "Naomi…please, go to your room and lie down for a hour hour, hmm? You will feel much better. Trust me on this, oui?"
Naomi wearily got to her feet, wobbling only once. "That is the best advice I have received all day, Yuri," Naomi admitted with a wan grin. "I shall be in my room should you need me…" Naomi moved off to attempt to regain her sanity again.
Yuri finished her tea, and decided to have yet another cup. She made her way to the kitchen, and poured another steaming cup from the teapot she had prepared. Cup again full, she moved back to her favorite chair in the living room once more, and reclaimed her seat. Only a moment or two later, a much-put-upon looking Maria Foloreva made her way inside the living room, after having put her valise down in the hall. "Hello, Maria cheri," Yuri said in her gentle smooth voice. "How was your first day on the job, hmm?"
"Bozhe moi," Maria groaned, then twisted her neck to crack it. It did so, and she sighed in relief. "How did Naomi do this, Madame?" she wondered aloud. "This day, I have escorted more than fifteen devilishly clever paparazzi from the premises. Twenty if you count that wretched blonde-haired bimbo that tried five successive times to gain access. I am sure it will get better, da…but, I hope it is sooner than later, eh?" Maria laughed softly, flexing her aching feet.
Svetlana moved gracefully over to sit down in the chair beside Yuri's. "Ah, Madame," she asked, her lovely brown eyes inquisitive. "How have you been today, hmm?"
"Quite rested, mon petite," Yuri answered, patting Svetlana's hand thankfully. "And, not just a little excited too, I suppose."
"Da, I understand, Madame," Svetlana said with a nod. "What with tonight being your dinner with your Bentley, nyet?" Svetlana smiled, charmed with what a endearing couple Yuri and Bentley were.
"You are too clever sometimes, Svetlana," Yuri chided her friend with a smile. "I think I am allowed, no?"
Svetlana laughed softly. "Of course!" she answered. "I am just pleased that you are so happy, Madame."
"Svetlana, please," Yuri said wearily, but smiled still. "At home, I must insist you call me Yuri."
Svetlana blushed softly, looking down a moment. "I am sorry," she said, then flicked her luminous brown eyes Yuri's way. "I am happy for you, Yuri my friend." She paused. "I hope you do know that, da?"
"I know, mon petite," Yuri told her, leaning over to softly kiss Svetlana's cheek. "I know…and merci. Thank you." Yuri then eyed the lovely tigress a bit longer, then added, "Have you given any further thought to what we discussed this morning, cheri?"
Svetlana closed her eyes tightly, and grimaced. She then opened her big brown eyes again, and looked a bit suspiciously at the smiling Yuri. "Da, Yuri…I have," she told her friend. "How could I not, nyet? What with you and Naomi, and then Maria, even Jack and Sean all suggesting this thing."
"I know, cheri," Yuri sympathesized, but still pressed her case. "And, I do apologize for starting this whole thing. However, I do hope you realize just what a bind I and my company find ourselves in, oui?"
"I know, Yuri," Svetlana said with a weary sigh. "I do wish to help…really I do! But---"
"Ah, with you there is always a 'but', mon cheri," Yuri observed with a frown.
Svetlana's ears swiveled flat to her head, and her eyes appeared stricken. "I am sorry, Yuri…I am!" she cried softly.
"Shh, Svetlana," Yuri soothed, realizing she had pushed a bit too hard. "I apologize for pushing you so. I should realize that this is very hard for you." Yuri saw Svetlana look at her, her eyes filled with confusion and uncertainty. "Now, for the rest of the day, we will not speak of this, agreed?"
Svetlana looked thankfully over at Yuri. "Agreed, and thank you," Svetlana told Yuri. "I will decide very soon…I promise, Yuri."
"I know, cheri," Yuri replied, hoping that she knew her Svetlana as well as she thought she did. "Now, I must be off to get ready…"
Maria, who had been absently listening to the conversation, flicked her blue eyes to the grandmother clock, noting the time. She frowned, then looked Yuri's way. "But, Yuri…you have more than an hour before you must be off," she pointed out. "Just to get dressed?"
"Ah, if only that were so, Maria," Yuri responded. "However, my Russian friend, as I have no yen for those scavengers---the paparazzi! ---to realize that I am pregnant, I must take actions to prevent something like this happening. So, in addition to dressing for my dinner this evening…I must also alter my appearance to throw those wretches off my trail."
"Poor Yuri," Svetlana murmured in sympathy, eyeing Yuri with a fond gaze. "Must this always be the way with you, Yuri? Always hounded by the members of the so-called press?"
"I'm afraid so, cheri," Yuri answered with a frown, but that was soon replaced with a smile. "Ah, but chin up, Svetlana, I do not mind. In fact, in a way, it is sort of entertaining."
"Hmm, I had not thought of it in that light," Maria opined, grinning as Yuri waved her farewells to her two dear friends. The two waited until they heard Yuri's bedroom door close, then Maria got to her feet in a flash. "Come, Svetlana…we must prepare ourselves!" she told her friend.
"Da, but we must not give Madame any suspicions, Maria," Svetlana warned. "So…should we not wait a bit longer?"
"Perhaps you are right, Svetlana," Maria mused after a moment's consideration. "We shall wait until Madame has left. However, if we do this, we shall have to hurry. Can you do this, Svetlana?"
Svetlana drew herself erect, fuming slightly. "Just you watch me, Maria," she vowed. "I can get ready very quickly if I've a mind too!"
"That is good," Maria replied, grinning…her challenge evidently working out exactly as she had planned. "But, now…we must appear the weary working girls we are supposed to be, da?"
"Da!" Svetlana agreed, giggling once. She then flopped into a chair, and sagged in apparent weariness. "I do not know about you, Maria…but it will not take much for me to pretend, I think."
"Ah, my Svetlana," Maria replied with a giggle. "Behave yourself, you!"
Svetlana could only grin mischievously at her friend.
Thirty minutes later…
Yuri Sing, finally prepared for her much expected dinner with her darling Bentley, descended the broad staircase into her home's long foyer. "Cheries, I am ready," Yuri called, wanting another woman's---or women's---opinion very much this evening.
Svetlana and Maria got up and made their way into the hallway, and both smiled in appreciation as they caught sight of their mentor and friend. "Oh, Madame…you are magnificent!" Svetlana gushed in reverent tones.
"Da, as beautiful as ever," Maria agreed, then frowned. "But, Yuri…what is with the wig? Oh, and what have you done to your lovely eyes?"
Yuri smiled, appreciating her friends' obvious approval of her appearance. She was wearing her favorite mint green kimono-like dress, with soft gold collar and cuffs, as well as the outfit's obi----which, admittedly was a bit wider now than usual…having to encompass Yuri's rapidly expanding abdomen. However, the long wig of black straight hair looked very odd on Yuri…as both Svetlana and Maria knew her hair to be a brighter blonde. Yuri also had chosen to wear contact lenses that turned her exquisite green-gold eyes a more common bright blue. "Shh, it is all part of my disguise, amis," Yuri teased, which caused Svetlana to giggle.
"Different, Yuri…but still a very nice look for all that," Naomi declared from behind Yuri where she stood upon the stairs. "I've always liked that kimono…it looks delightful on you."
"Merci, Naomi," Yuri answered with a soft caring smile. "My Bentley would agree with you. That is…as I was wearing this very outfit the first time I met him, you see."
"Hmm, clever," Naomi replied, as she moved over to stand with Svetlana and Maria in front of their dear Yuri. "Let us hope he likes as much today as he did back then, oui?"
"Oh, Naomi!" Yuri laughed with a blush. "You are so bad!" Yuri then laughed again, a soft seductive purr almost. "But, Cheri…let us hope you are correct!"
Even as her friends laughed along with her cleverness, Yuri realized just how very happy she was this moment. However, she had no idea just how happy she would become after this night was through...