We started walking back home when Gaston called out to us.

"Belle! Adalina!" We shared a look before turning to him.

"Gaston, what a surprise," I sighed. Gaston gave me a confused look before turning back to Belle.

"Wonderful book you have there," Gaston said.

"Have you read it?" Belle asked surprised.

"Well, not that one," Gaston stumbled over his words, and I sighed. "But, you know, books." They both nodded while I tried not to laugh at him. He suddenly held up flowers for Belle. "For your dinner table. Shall I join you this evening?"

"Sorry, not this evening," Belle told him.

"Busy?" he asked her. She was about to answer when I stopped her.

"Yes," I answered. "Papa is going to the fair tonight, and we wanted to spend time together as a family of three." I grabbed Belle's arm, and we walked away from him. She sighed and shook her head. "He is quite the persistent one, isn't he?" I asked him.

"Maybe too persistent," she agreed.

"Surely he deserves some credit for trying, even if he's too stupid to take multiple no's as a clue that you're not interested."

"Ada!" she said shocked at my words. We heard music playing and shared a smile before going inside the house. I prepared him something to eat before we went to his art studio. While I took after Papa and painted and sketched my way through the world, when I wasn't reading, Belle invented things that would give us that time. We made our way quietly to Papa's art studio to listen to his song. The music box was a windmill with a woman holding two small children while a man panted her. Their surroundings showed they'd lived there, in that small attic, for some time.

How does a moment last forever?

How can a story never die?

It is love we must hold onto

Never easy, but we try.

One the wall behind him was the actual picture he'd painted of our mother holding Belle and myself. In one of Belle's hands was a rose raddle she was holding above my head. I'd always wondered if she'd taunted me with it or she was trying to play with me. I'd never felt comfortable asking Papa. Next to us, on an easel, were pictures he'd drawn of us as children, but none of us as babies.

Sometimes our happiness is captured

Somehow a time and place stand still

Love lives on inside our hearts

And always will.

Belle and I made ourselves known and moved over to him with his meal.

"Ah, Belle. Ada." Papa removed a piece of the music box to fix it with Belle at his side while I placed the plate next to them and started picking up the room. "Could you hand me the a..." He looked at Belle's hand to see her holding exactly what she needed. They shared a smile as he took the utensil for her. "Thank you." He repaired the piece before putting it down as she grabbed another. "Now I need the..." he looked down at the item. "No. No. No. Actually, yes, that's exactly what I need. Thank you." He took the item from her and placed it where it needed to be. I watched them work in sync and, honestly, felt a little jealous. Papa and I shared a love for art, but in moments like this, I felt like an outsider. I know both my father and sister love me dearly, we're all we had in this world, but they shared these moments that I'd never share. I shook my head and started putting things away in the room.

"Papa," Belle suddenly said. "Do you think we're odd?"

"Odd?" he asked her confused by her question. "My daughters? Odd? Where did you get a thing like that?"

"The villagers," I told him.

"People talk."

"This is a small village, you know," Papa reminded us. "Small minded as well. But, small also means safe. Even back in Paris, I knew a girl like the two of you, who was so ahead of her time. So different." I smiled at the knowledge we took after our mother. "People mocked her. Until the day they all found themselves imitating her."

"Please, just tell us one more thing about her," Belle begged him.

"Belle," I reprimanded her slightly. We had a silent agreement never to ask about our mother because we know how Papa felt.

"It's all right, Ada," he told me before turning to her. "Your mother was fearless. Fearless." He closed the closed the music box before packing it up.


After dinner, we helped him pack up the wagon with everything he was going to try and sell at the market and the music box. He'd never sell the music box, but he took it with him to listen to the music and keep his family close while he was away. Not to mention showcase what he can do to potential buyers. Once he was all packed up, he climbed into the seat with some trouble. Belle handed him the reins for Philip to him and place her hands on his knee, leaning on them. I wrapped my arm around her waist. Normally, one of us would go

"So, what can I bring you from the market?" he asked us.

"A rose," Belle answered.

"Like the one in the painting."

"You ask for that every year," he pointed out and we shared a smile.

"And every year you bring them," she reminded him. I had saved every rose he'd ever brought us. I'd dry them then press them in a book in order to save them all these years.

"Then I shall bring more." He cupped our faces and rubbed his thumb on our cheeks. "You have my word." We backed away from the wagon and shared goodbyes.

"Stay safe," I said before joining Belle on the steps to our home.

"Come on, Philip," Papa ordered, snapping Philip's reigns. "You know the way."

"We'll see you tomorrow!" Belle called out to him.

"Right," he agreed. "Tomorrow, with the roses."