"This is a hell of a place to be an old man!" I hollered at no one in particular. I dropped Christine on Reza and limped off to locate the trouble.

Anci had Gustave by the ear; the two Chagny Musketeers were trapped in a corner. Sofie staggered up to me, wailing. Somehow, she experienced a miraculous recovery the moment she located chocolate.

"Papa, it's not my fault!" It never is, Gustave. "She can't come to the creek with us, tell her!"

"I'M A SWIMMING!" roared my little Amazon. She actually has the red hair to go with her temper.

"You don't want to swim with those nasty boys, Pickle; let Papa and Jeanette take you." Pickle agreed that was a much better plan, but there was still the problem of the Three Musketeers. I looked to Anci.

"What happened?"

"She was pulling at them and crying to go to the creek with them; I'm not sure if they knocked her down or she fell."

"She fell! She fell!" All the Musketeers agreed.

Poor Sofie; she was a torment to the boys, all alone at the bottom of the baby ladder. This could have been avoided if Raoul and Manon would have made more of an effort to keep up with Christine and me.

"Alright, boys–I am bringing Jeanette and Sofie down to swim. I trust there will be no problems."

"No problems! YAY!"

I thanked Anci, and Sofie and I went in search of Jeanette.

-0-0-0-0-

Chrsitine cast me a sidelong glance. "What are you looking at?"

"The most beautiful girl…"

"Your eyesight is going," she smiled, setting her book aside. I took the opportunity to lay my head in her rarely-vacant lap. A cool hand on my forehead; I sighed happily. I reached up to touch her lips.

"I remember a girl in a white dress, nervous about her debut. You're just the same."

"If you say so."

"There's no lap I'd rather lie in," I swore.

"You always say the right thing."

"Why is it so quiet this evening? It's frightening," I worried.

Christine did a quick rundown. "Let's see; Miri-ange and Carmen are sleeping over with Charlotte and Madeleine; the Musketeers are camping in the barn. Jeanette and Sofie are asleep…that only leaves your son."

"I saw light under his door when I passed." I prayed that meant he was actually within…alone.

"So you see, we are practically childless," she laughed.

"Sing with me?"

-0-0-0-0-

"Do you know anything about those girls?" Masson asked. I valued our rehearsal time because it gave us a chance to talk. We had not lost our enjoyment of each other's company as he grew up. I would have missed him terribly if we had.

"Let's see: I know they're whores, Son."

"Papa," he groaned, exasperated.

"Forgive me if occasionally behave like a parent. I aspire to more for you."

"What does 'more' mean?"

"More means you could have your choice of any girl in France."

"No I couldn't."

"Nearly enough. You know Mother and Manon have hopes that someday you and Charlotte or Madeleine–"

"Ew, Papa. Liselotte and Mimi are like my sisters," he grimaced.

"I've tried to tell Mama that very thing. Still, when it comes time–which is it not, yet–there are many things you should consider."

"Such as pedigree?" he smirked.

"Similar life experiences, for one. Similar dreams, for another…"

"What about love?"

"Masson. Since when are we discussing love?"

"I think I love Annemarie!" he gasped.

I slammed my music down. "Jesus H Christ, Masson! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Papa, she's sweet and gentle. She just needs someone to take care of her," he insisted.

"I see; she needs a sixteen year old skirt-hound to take care of her," I smiled.

My son looked crushed. I relented; the current conversation was not productive.

"Masson, she is trying to change her life; it is a frightening time for her. I agree that vulnerability can be very attractive, but if you do care for her, it is best you let her make her way with no added complications."

"I could help her!"

"–out of her corset; yes." I patted his shoulder and shoved his forelock out of his eyes. Obnoxious blonde curls; he always needed a haircut. "Son," I sighed. "Go; have a swim. After the concert tonight, take one of your regular girlfriends for a late supper and…whatever. I will distract your Mother somehow. Promise me you'll let the little whore alone."

"You're only saying this because–she's not a whore!" His eyes were so dejected. Suddenly this strapping golden lion was my fat naughty cherub once more.

"If it's love, it will keep," I assured him. "But Masson, if you interfere with any of Mama's girls, I cannot help you. I hope you understand."

As he sprinted upstairs, I wondered if he'd heard a word I'd said. I suppose that's what it means to be his age: no one can tell you anything.

-0-0-0-0-

"So what is this, exactly?" Raoul asked.

"What does it look like?" I stood back to examine the pile of debris. "I promised the Musketeers that I would help with supplies for their fort. I think it's going to be in the pear tree this year."

Raoul winced. "You can't persuade them to build on the ground, can you? Manon is afraid the vicomte will fall on his head."

"So? One needn't be bright to be a comte."

"Who is the new talent?" he grinned.

"You must be kidding. Look: genuine leather for a door flap. Just a couple of girls like all the others, what do you care?"

"I always care, Grandpapa. I'm not dead yet."

"Neither am I, thank you very much. Ask our wife if you don't believe me," I sniffed.

"I'd rather ask you about the new talent. I saw them in the garden yesterday; they still look fairly fresh. What about an introduction?" he grinned.

"It's a cold day in hell when I procure for you, Romeo. Make your own introduction! Why must I continually remind you to pay attention to your wife?"

"I know: go buy her a nice piece of jewelry, and–"

"No: buy me a nice piece of jewelry and I won't snitch. And listen here: leave the little blonde one alone. Masson fancies himself in love; it won't do for his other father to be getting a leg over on his first love."

"Erik–a whore? What's Christine say?"

"Not a thing, and neither will you. She doesn't know about it. I only told you–in strictest confidence–" I raised an eyebrow.

"Of course."

"–so that you'll leave her alone."

"Right. I will. What about the other one, then?"

"What other one?" Christine called. We both jumped out of our skins. She looked like a country princess in a blue and white striped dress, carrying freshly cut roses. She eased between us and got a kiss on each cheek.

"Oh, Manon is the other one." I smiled.

"Really?" she looked at Raoul, who nodded dumbly.

"Mm. We were discussing both of us taking you to bed, and Raoul wanted to know what we'd do about Manon. What do you think, Darling?"

"I think you're drunk," she smiled. She kissed me good naturedly and made for the house.

Raoul finally recovered his powers of speech. "I can't believe you said that to your wife. I could never speak to Manon that way, even in jest."

I shrugged. "She's my dearest friend, Beauty. We have terrific fun. Maybe you'd be a better husband to Manon if you tried harder to be her friend."

-0-0-0-0-

"Papa. PAPA!"

"Carmen, are you trying to kill me? Your Mother will never forgive you. Don't sneak up on an old man when he's dozing and shout at him."

"Is Uncle Reza…alright?" She cast a worried glance at him. Her hollering hadn't budged him a bit.

"Yes. He's just a deaf old…man. You have to shake him to awaken him."

Carmen handed me a thick packet wrapped in brown paper. It was from Gaston. "This came for you."

"Thank you, Dear."

I opened the package. It was a manuscript of some kind, with a note from Gaston.

Erik, my friend,

I pray this finds you and the tribe well. If it is convenient, I will call on you next week. I hope the four of us can make a trip to the coffeehouse together! Here is something I have been thinking about for some time. I cannot wait to hear what you think.

Until Thursday next!

Gaston

I turned the page and began to read.