Such a refuge e'er was given

Erik could hardly contain his excitement as he packed his belongings and prepared to leave his West Philadelphia apartment. He felt no great love for the place-it provided shelter only. His things, however, were precious to him. Nothing was obtained lightly or frivolously. Each item, from lampshades to pillowcases to his computers, was chosen with the utmost care. Everything must meet his needs as perfectly as possible. He knew that quality did not always mean the most expensive. Trendiness was something he never considered. Usefulness, beauty, harmony, those were the qualities he valued in his private domain. Therefore, deciding what to leave behind was difficult. Erik must keep up the appearance of a temporary tenant. He could, of course, retrieve the balance of his belongings when he was able to make a more permanent arrangement with his angel.

His computers, then, of course, must come with him. The electric keyboard would have to do-no one would believe that a temporary tenant would travel with a baby grand piano. He would loan his piano to the community center down the street. A piano must be played or it would be ruined. Perhaps another child would be saved by its music.

Which books? Music theory, voice techniques? Languages. He'd been learning Swedish. His angel sung her favorite him in Swedish. Classics, for her sons. Erik must be ready for his angel. She would need him, as he needed her.

He had found her! Such good fortune! Alas, when he found her Philadelphia row house a "For Rent" sign hung from the porch. That sign threw Erik into paroxysms of despair. Where would she go? How could he find her if she left the city? But Erik was, as ever, resourceful. Not only had he found her, but he would be living near his angel. A rental house on his angel's own property. He could see her whenever he chose. Of course, he could see her now, but soon it would be in the flesh...

What a remarkable coincidence. When his Christine moved away, he was distraught. How would he find her? So simple! All it took was a carefully placed phone call to the children's school. So sorry, hate to trouble, but he was the children's music teacher...he'd misplaced the new address...needed to send on some music...could the secretary help? Oh! Mrs. So-and-so! Young Peter had mentioned how kind she was...Flattery was a powerful tool, used wisely. It was almost too easy. A small town in the easternmost corner of Lancaster County. What drew his angel there? Of course, he remembered now-Gus told him she hated the city. She had flown home.

Another phone call, again, so simple. Such a small place had only one realtor. Hello? Giry Realty? Yes. He was Mr. Yedinak, recovering from surgery. He needed a small place really, something quiet, to rent for a few months, perhaps longer? He had thought of an apartment, even a room to let, never dreaming that a small house existed in such proximity to his heart's desire. Carefully keeping the excitement from his voice, he seemed to consider it. And then, it was done. He would move in a few weeks. One caveat. Surely Mrs. Giry could understand, he needed privacy after such extensive surgery. The family would need to be away from home the day he moved in. Could she please arrange it? He was so grateful; perhaps he could supplement her commission, just a bit?

Christine sat on the floor of the summer kitchen, now a tiny apartment. It was sparsely furnished-a kitchen table with chairs, a sofa, armchair, and double bed. The windows sparkled now, outside and in. The wooden floor was freshly polished. Meg Giry flopped down beside her.

"Really, Christine, you could have gotten Joe Buquet to do all this. I'm exhausted. My own house is never this clean."

"Thanks for helping, Meg. It's just that Mr. Buquet gives me the creeps. He's always leering and, well, he stinks."

Meg laughed. "Your standards always were too high, Chrissy."

Christine smiled but kept her thoughts to herself. One oughtn't judge, but really. She hadn't seen Meg in years, practically since high school. Now Meg was a single mother, never married to her son's father, and office manager for her mother's real estate firm. It was Victorian of her, but Christine still believed in falling in love, getting married, then having a family. Still, Meg seemed happy and Freddy seemed like a nice boy. He was Peter's age, full of energy, and a good foil for her oldest son's bossy moods. Kurt adored him as he did his own brother, perhaps even a little more. The three of them were outside now, playing. Boyish shouts and giggles floated in through the open windows on the summer breeze.

"You're right, Meg, I'm exhausted, too. It seems like all I've done for the past month is clean and unpack."

"What you need, Chrissy girl," said Meg, "is a spa day."

Christine laughed. "Right. Spa day in the middle of summer. Who would look after the boys? Or were you thinking that they need a spa day, too?"

"Look, I'll keep the boys for an afternoon. You go, get a haircut, a mani-pedi, maybe even a massage. You deserve it."

"Don't you have your mother's office to manage?" Christine asked pointedly.

"That's the beauty of working for Mama. If I need time, she gives it to me." Meg fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "Come on...it'll be fun. Oooo! Here-don't you need to disappear for a day while the new tenant moves in? Perfect timing! The mysterious Mr. Y moves in, you get pampered, your boys keep Freddy busy. It's a win-win-win!" Meg pulled out her cell phone. "When is Mr. Y moving in?"

"Meg! What are you doing?"

"There's this great spa in Kennett Square. Not over the top pricey, but great service, very pretty. I send Mama every year on her birthday.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to make an appointment for Christine Daae. The Afternoon Delight Package-"

Christine grabbed Meg's arm. "What are you doing?" she squealed."

"One moment." Meg held her cell phone away from her face. "I am doing you a big favor, Chrissy. Now what's the date?"

Christine sighed. "July 1. Mr. Y moves in on July 1."