I know some of you are going to hate this announcement, but this will probably be the last chapter for a while. I need to buckle down and finish my essay. I will give you this last gift before vanishing for probably a month. Love you all! ~ Eliyah


The feeling of eyes on me was still apparent when I woke up. Sunlight trickled in from the window, and the sound of the city made its way through the glass and into my ears. Strange, it was silent last night. I thought as I threw the blankets back. Wandering into the bathroom, I threw my pajamas on the ground before stepping into the hot blast of water that the shower provided. After having properly washed, I stepped out and reached for the tank top I had worn the night before only for my hand to touch nothing but steam. Looking around the bathroom, I was shocked to find that my clothes were nowhere to be found.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I stepped back into my room to find my bed made. The pillows hosted the tank top and the shorts. Laying on the end of the bed were a pair of jeans that had faded with the years of use and a blouse I had never seen before. It was white, with beige and gold thread embroidering the boat-cut collar and puffed out sleeves. Monsieur Erik? I mused, fingering the light material.

Dressing took less time than usual. Even though I could not feel his eyes, I knew Erik had to be nearby. Once dressed, I brushed out my hair and pulled it up off my neck with an elastic band. Like magic, as soon as I had my hand on the door, three quick knocks echoed off it. "Minta, you up?" Dad called.

My answer was opening the door. He glowed as he smiled, the best I had seen him since last night. His face was smooth once again, no worried wrinkles or lackluster shimmer. "Good morning, princess." He said, leaning in and laying a kiss on my hairline. "Did you sleep well?"

The memories of the night rushed to the forethought and a smile grew on my face without my control. "Yeah, once I was asleep." I admitted, thinking about the violins.

"Good, good." He mumbled, looking at my clothes with a smile. "Do you like the blouse? You loved them when you were little."

So it was Dad. I thought, letting out a sigh as I smiled. "I love it." I declared, pinching the bottom hem and tugging at it a bit. "Very airy and soft." He chuckled and wrapped an arm around me.

The quick hug ended with him walking in and over to my closet. He opened the shutters and thumbed through the few articles I had hanging in there. "Um, Dad? Can I help you?" I asked, walking up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Monsieur Babineaux, head of the department has asked if the first night can be a formal event. Suits and gowns, you know." He said, holding up the only dresses I owned. "I thought we might go shopping," he turned fast enough that the dresses' hems slashed at my chest, "unless you don't want to, that is. We don't have to go. It's your choice."

I glanced over the two and grimaced. The one in his left hand was one my aunt had given me for my fourteenth birthday. It had been too tight even back then. The skimpy black material barely reached the middle of my thighs and left nothing to the imagination. No sleeves, no back, and hardly any dress. I had brought it with the intentions of never wearing it, except maybe as a shirt.

The other was not much better. I had bought it for homecoming the previous year with the little money I had saved up from mowing lawns and babysitting. It was red, only a bit longer than the other, and sleeves that were sewn to fall halfway down my upper arms. It was cute, but thinking of the dinner…

No, it would not be enough, I decided.

"Sure, where should we start?"

Dad hustled me into the car and ordered the driver to take us to a store that was just across the Seine. Walking into the shop, I felt the air leave my body in a loud gasp. The narrow hallway that lead to the store front was covered in mirrors that reflected the lights so much that it was almost blinding. We walked into the foyer where a man immediately called out "Christophe!"

Dad greeted him, laughing as he shook his hand. "Belmont, it's good to see you." The two began talking much faster than I could understand. My head dropped and my cheeks turned red. Maybe Monsieur can help me learn to listen better. Finally, Dad turned to me and placed an arm around the man's shoulders. He gestured to the man and said, "Minta, this is Monsieur Belmont Gosse. He owns this place." Turning to his friend, he gestured to me now. "Belmont, my daughter Aminta-Rose."

The man in question was not as tall as my father, nor as wide in the shoulders. He was thin, gangly almost. Black hair receded from his head in a perfect half circle, save for the pieces that stuck out madly from the edges of his face. Thick horn-rimmed glasses perched the bridge of his nose, enlarging his already large black eyes that looked me over with great intensity. "Aminta…" He repeated in his graveled voice, rolling the name on his tongue and sending a sickly shiver through my body. "That is not a traditionally French name, is it? Lovely, lovely. And Rose? Is it a middle name or just a second name?" He did not wait for an explanation, seeming to come up with his own. "Lovely name, lovely girl…You created a beautiful specimen, Christophe." Dad chuckled and I blanched completely.

Strange. That was the only word I could think of for this guy.

He and Dad began talking again in the fastest French they could muster, leaving me to muse and wander the store front. The kaleidoscope of colors fascinated me, especially the ones displayed on mannequins. None seemed to scream to me, to call my name and beg to be worn. They all seemed so…adult. So grown up and formal. I did not hate the concept. Some of them were gorgeous, some so elegant. It just seemed like seventeen-year-olds were left out of the design. I could never see myself wearing any of them, except maybe to the wedding of someone I hated. Upstage the bride in haute couture.

It dawned on me that the two had gone silent, and I slowly turned to see that they were staring at me. I offered a weak smile and walked back over. "I'm sorry, the dresses are just beautiful Monsieur Gosse."

"Just Belmond, ma'mselle. No need to be formal with me." He said, grinning at me. Whether I meant to or not, I found myself leaning closer to Dad. "If you'll both follow me to the back, we'll get started right away."

Dad was still chatting with him as we walked, walking side by side with the man while I stayed more in the back. The hallway we had been led into split off into two neighboring areas. Dad walked nto the room with sofas and mirrors while an older lady who spoke too quickly for me to catch her name led me the opposite direction, into a hall of doors.

She placed me in a room and left me with instructions to change out of my clothes and to put on this slip and robe. I was hesitant to obey, but did so nonetheless. The last thing I needed was someone doing it for me.

Two younger ladies walked in, each toting three large canvas bags each each. Belmond entered with one more and left with one of the girls, leaving the other to begin unzipping the strange bags and letting their gown come out.

It soon became a whirlwind of cloth and hands as different dresses were put onto my body. Every time someone entered, they took one dress away and dropped off two more. It seemed never ending, and all I could do was listen as the girl told me to breathe in or out.

Only a few dresses made it to the presentation floor. The first of which was a sea blue dress that hugged my body but flared out at my hips, letting me move with some freedom. Dad argued against it right away, pointing out the plunging neckline that was accented with beads and lacework. He said something to Belmond and the assistants, and I was soon being twirled about again.

It was like that a few more times before the workers really got the hint that we did not want to see my belly button through the neckline. The other dress that had Dad fuming was one that I felt uncomfortable just wearing. It reminded me a bit of the dress my aunt had given me, only this one was white and lacy. It was sold with a sheer baby blue detachable skirt that flared out and accented itself as unnecessary.

He looked at it with knitted eyebrows. "What do you think, Minta?"

I spun in the mirror once, turned to him and said plainly, "I feel like a lousy stripper."

That had him arguing with Belmond once again, who said something along the lines of "that's fashion today." Dad clutched the collar of the man's nice shirt and whispered something that seemed vaguely threatening. I was ushered back into my little hole by a white-faced little man as he hurried to gather several of the dresses that had been placed in my room.

After that, I started getting dresses I liked much better. The first was black, two tiers in the skirt, with one strap over the shoulder. Beautiful white flowers ran down from the strap across my body and around the back, drawing attention up to my face rather than to my chest. I walked out with a smile, which in turn had Dad smiling.

He agreed to buy that one, and allowed me to keep looking. That was how I found another gorgeous dress. It was light pink, with gold beadwork acting as a belt and a neckline. The bust was slightly ruffled, but not in a gaudy way, and the skirt was smooth and straight. Walking out in it made me feel like a girl on her way to the prom, and Dad seemed to pick up on that energy. "Do you love it?"

I chuckled as I looked at myself in the mirror. The girl looking back hardly seemed like me. I did not smile as brightly as she did. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, we were smiling and beautiful. "I think I do." A small part of me wondered what Monsieur would think, but I crushed it quickly and went back to enjoying my reflection.

We left with two dresses, having paid in money and an apology on Dad's part. Belmond brushed it off, however. "It happens a lot, Christophe. Do not think of it anymore."

Before returning to the manor, Dad had the driver pull off to a little parking lot and led me down to the Seine. A small bistro sat not too far off on a rocky ledge. Upon entering, the woman behind the counter rushed around it and locked Dad into a firm hug. "Monsieur Dubois, I am so happy to see you!" She squealed, tightening her python-like grasp around my father. Dad returned it with a crushing hug of his own, making her squeak like a rubber toy.

The cook peeked out from the door and yelled Dad's name. "It's good to see you again. Glad to see that plant's not working you to death." He said, his moustache bristling with every word he spoke. His eyes held a mirthful twinkle as he walked up and smacked the taller man on the back.

Is Dad taller than everyone around here? I wondered absently until I was forced back into reality by the vice like grip on the young woman. "You must be Aminta-Rose! Christophe has told us so much about you!"

"He has?" I wheezed out, dots forming in my vision. She dropped me before I stopped breathing, but only by a hair. I had to grab onto Dad to keep from falling.

She smiled and nodded to Dad. "He always talks about how proud he is."

The cook grabbed the girl's shoulder. "Sabine. You're scaring her." He smiled at me and twirled the end of his moustache. "Don't think too poorly of her, Mademoiselle. She is excitable." He led up to a table that overlooked the Riviera, leaving before he could take our order. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sabine leaned up against the counter staring at my dad with a goofy smile on her face.

Food was placed before us not too long after. The cook, who introduced himself as Alexandre, took no money from Dad as he offered to pay now. "You've done more for Sabine and me than I can ever repay. A free dinner is not enough, mon ami."

"Enough. You're going to embarrass me." Dad said with a lighthearted tone, bowing his head to the man as he rushed back into the kitchen.

The food before us was much more normal to me than the first restaurant's selection had been. Dad and I had matching cuts of steak, easily ten ounces or more, with cubed potatoes and an assortment of veggies on the side. Bread was promptly brought out by Sabine, who lingered long enough to stare at Dad up close before shuffling back to her place at the stand.

We began to eat, but I found my mouth was too full on unasked questions to take any of the food in. "How do you know the cook and his…daughter?" I asked, cutting my steak into smaller and smaller pieces.

Dad glanced over as Sabine and smiled, and I caught the light pink that entered his cheeks. "Alex was struggling a bit last year, couldn't make ends meet. So," he popped a potato into his mouth before continuing, "I hosted some guests here in town and brought them down here to eat. He made quite a bit of money that day, and I left a generous tip."

"How generous is generous?" I inquired, taking a bite of the steak and enjoying the rosemary flavor the meat held.

"Enough to pay the rent for a while." Dad answered. He put his utensils down and looked me squarely in the eyes. "Having money means you have a responsibility to help others. I was just trying to do my part."

"I think Sabine would like a bit more than a good tip and a few visits." I hinted, sneaking a look at the young blonde who was now distracted by something in the kitchen. My attention turned to Dad fast enough to see his face slowly fade from the bright red they had been.

He busted out laughing, infectious as it was. Soon we were both laughing. "What about you?" He asked, turning his eyes down to the steak before him. "Anyone you want to visit with more?"

My turn to be red again. My face filled with blood as I thought immediately of Monsieur, then Archer. They were the only two I had really any contact with. "Not really." I let the lie slip between my teeth and followed it up quickly with, "Maybe that will change this weekend."

He nodded slowly. "Perhaps." He began talking about some of the guests, but it simply bounced off me. I did not care about them, I did not really want to discuss them. At that moment, I just wanted to eat, laugh, and talk.

They could wait.

Dinner was followed up by a fruit and cheese plate, though we could not get through all the choices. Upon saying goodbye, Dad forced Sabine to take some money. "Really Monsieur, Papa and I don't need your money. You've already given us so much."

"Take it anyway." He said, closing her hands around what she had been given. "Give your aunt my best."

"I will." She said, dropping her head in an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks. We waved as we walked back out to the car which was warm from idling. The rest of the ride back to the house was quiet, lit by the street lamps and apartment lights.

Even the manor was silent as we walked in the front doors. "So you know, Minta," Dad called as we walked to our rooms, "Madame Giry will be bringing some help to clean tomorrow. Best make yourself scarce."

I agreed, and we shouted our partings through the halls. Hanging the dresses in my closet, I thumbed their material one last time before changing out for bed. The blankets were cold and crisp, smelling of soap and lavenders. When did I wash this? I wondered.

That ended quickly when my hand slipped under my pillow and felt the harsh parchment that had been hidden underneath.

Mademoiselle,

I took the liberty of cleaning your sheets and pillow covers with oils to help you sleep. It would be a travesty if you were unable to get enough sleep because of late night chats.

Your obedient servant

I laid my head down on the pillow and took a deep breath. Lavender, and something that smelled like warm, soft, almost milky wood. My body relaxed as the scents filled my mind and laid me off to peaceful sleep.

It was all in vain as I woke up screaming.