Christine paced back and forth in front of the dining room's bay window, looking out at the skyline of Phantasma. Arms crossed she'd occasionally look back at the small pile of newspapers on the table.

"What's wrong, Mother?" Arthur dropped his spoon into his porridge. "Are you hungry? Do you want my porridge?"

Christine smiled at her son, "Ada is making mine. I would never take yours."

"Then why are you sad?"

She sighed and sat next to her son, "The reviews are in for the show and your dad isn't going to be happy."

"Why do the reviews matter?"

The dining room door opened that very moment to reveal Mr. Y and Gustave.

"You're up early, Gustave!" Christine exclaimed.

"Rose is coming today," The young man grabbed the coffee pot on the table and poured himself a cup. "I wanted to help Papa make sure the park was in tip top shape."

"The Ferris Wheel? Is it tip top shape?" Arthur asked wide eyed.

"Yes it is!" Erik sat on the other side of his youngest son and kissed the top of his head. "We can ride it later."

Ada came out of the kitchen with Christine's breakfast and sat it down in front of her. "Mr. Y! Had I known you were up I would have made…"

The Phantom cut her off, "It is fine, Ada, Gustave and I had some bread and cheese before heading out earlier."

"Thank you, sir," Ada curtsied before heading back into the kitchen.

Christine stirred the strawberries atop her porridge into it before taking a bite. The unobscured side of Erik's face scowled as he watched and then looked down at the rest of her food: two Danish and scrambled egg.

"Take the mask off, Erik so I can see the full range of disappoint," The Soprano quipped as she sat her spoon down. She lifted the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. "Gustave, pass me the sugar bowl."

Shoulders tense, the young man lifted the bowl up and walked around the table to place it on the other side of his mother, as so his father could not touch it.

"Hey, Arthur you want to go annoy Boris The Strongman?" Gustave finished his coffee in one gulp.

"But I am not done with breakfast," The boy held a spoonful of porridge.

"We can do that and I can get you a Coney Island Dog."

"Mother, is that okay?"

Christine smiled and caressed Arthur's cheek, "Yes, it's fine. Go have fun with your big brother."

Once their sons were out of the dining room, the tension was cut as soon as Erik snapped, "Is this because of the reviews?"

"I'm taking tonight off. I can have all the sugar and milk I want," Christine stirred the sugar cubes into the coffee.

"Tonight is not your agreed upon night off."

"Then consider me under the weather."

Erik sighed, "You're being absurd!"

"Am I? I know you read the reviews before you went out this morning." She grabbed one of the newspapers, "'Fans of Phantasma's Opera House will be disappointed with this summer's offering. Known for his avantgarde original productions he wrote himself, Mr. Y opted to do a production of Charles Gounod's Faust this summer. His wife and muse, soprano, Christine Daae, takes the stage Marguerite and leaves this reviewer with more questions than answers. Yes, her voice is as splendid as ever, but it is laughable to think Faust would sell his soul for a woman clearly past her prime. Did Mr. Y throw this production together because inspiration is waning from this aging muse? And if so, why Faust and then put Daae into a role that is clearly meant for…'" Her words already breaking, Christing trailed off and tossed the review back onto the pile of paper.

"It's one thing to know you are no longer an ingénue and accept it; it is another for some one to word it so viciously," Erik spoke softly slid into the empty chair next to his wife. He took her hand into his. "It's like knowing your face is different but then being told it's abhorrent…"

Christine let out a sob as she rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "It's not just about me, Angel. Calling it a tepid production." She grabbed another newspaper and read from it, "'For a man who can create such original masterpieces, you would believe Mr. Y could put on a more inspired production of an existing opera.'"

Mr. Y lifted his free hand and wiped the tears from her cheeks, "They are correct. It could have been more inspired. However, I've been distracted. Come with me, Christine." Erik stood and they both walked in silence to the music room.

"I've been hiding something from you," He walked over to the new desk he had bought when they moved back to this house for the summer.

Christine arched her eyebrow; she hadn't noticed it was an exact replica of the other new desk he bought himself for their city home. Just a small mahogany writing desk with one drawer that locked. When she saw him at it, she never said anything, just let him write.

He pulled his pocket watch out and removed a key that was secured to it. "Remember when you said you wanted to help direct next year? I am going to take you on your word."

Christine bit her lip, "What have you been writing, Erik?"

He unlocked the drawer and pulled out a folder. His eyes were wide, pleading. "Not writing, rewriting. The recall has been painful, but I still want to do it; but let's do it right this time," he handed her the folder.

Christine Daae did not even have to look down at the title page to know what The Phantom of the Opera was discussing, but she did. Don Juan Triumphant.

The folder almost slipped from her hands, "Erik!"

He pulled her into an embrace, "I know, Angel, I know. But from the beginning it will be you and me directing. I want to host auditions, a completely new cast; one that does not have any intimate knowledge of us. You can help me choose."

"Who's going to produce it?" She back out of his embrace, "I am not going to let you use our money on this! Not a dime!"

"Edith Alcott," The Angel of Music grinned. "I went to her with the idea. She loved it. She will finance the whole thing; cast, crew, costumes, sets…"

Christine wrapped her arms tight around the folder, "There's a stipulation isn't there?"

Erik sighed, "She does want us to perform the duets in a private concert for her friends."

"Erik!" Christine turned around and started to walk away.

"Christine! Christine, please consider it!" He chased after her and wrapped his arms around her.

She sighed and relaxed into his torso. Leaning her head back against his chest she closed her eyes as he kissed behind her ear and down her neck.

She reached up and caressed his exposed cheek, keeping one arm wrapped around the folder, "Okay I'll consider it. May I finish my breakfast now so I can enjoy my day off?"