It was now Tuesday, May 9th. Now thirty-four weeks along, Helen still couldn't quite believe that she'd reached the eighth-month mark, even after everything she went through. Everything was just about ready for her daughter... everything, that is, except for her name.

While Helen had a pretty good idea of what her daughter's name should be by now, she still wasn't sure whether or not it was the right name for her, so to speak. After all, not everyone knew how to pronounce "Isolde" nor did they quite care where it came from. Still, at the very least, she had settled on a middle name, Avalon, for her to fall back on in case she wanted to go by that instead. It was a pretty easy decision to make as well. After all, it was the name of the song that had played the first time Ambrose and Helen had sex. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself while reminiscing on that moment. It was a moment in time that she was sure she'd remember fondly for the rest of her life, one that she had decided to immortalize with just a name. She couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and pride as she thought of the life they had created together in Dubai. If that was going to be the only good thing that came out of that relationship, so be it.

After a long day of exploring places nearest to her like the aquarium and the Bronx Zoo, Helen waddled into the nursery, feeling the brunt and fatigue of her pregnancy as she entered the room. She took a good look around at all the cute baby furniture and decorations currently adorning the room. Excitement, pride, and weariness all overcame her as she did so. This had originally been Bitsy's childhood room. It likely would've stayed that way indefinitely if life had gone exactly as planned, but it had now been repurposed as a nursery for the upcoming youngest Brandenham.

Just as Helen was starting to reflect on her current predicament in life, a small series of kicks broke her train of thought.

Helen exhaled softly and placed her hand over her belly. "Oh, sweetie. Mommy's just a little tired today."

She then walked over to the rocking chair, gently lowered herself into it, and let out a sigh of relief. As she sank back into the chair, it rocked gently back and forth, offering her a moment of comfort.

"You know, it's been getting harder and harder for me to move around," she continued. "But I'm willing to do anything for you no matter how shady it is. And besides, even on the most exhausting days, feeling you inside me makes me think it's all going to be worth it."

As she sat in the rocking chair, she gazed around the nursery, imagining the days when her daughter would roam the room and everything beyond it with her boundless energy. She rocked herself gently back and forth as she found solace in the stillness of the nursery. Just then, she heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Helen called out.

"It's me, Dakota," replied a disembodied feminine voice from the other side. "It looks like Mayor Leeds wanted to meet up with us."

"What for?"

"I don't know. Something to do with the park, maybe?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, I'll be out there in a minute."

"Oh, okay."

Helen just sat there and listened as she heard Dakota's footsteps gradually fade out. Once she was certain that Dakota had left, Helen then started trying to rise out of the rocking chair. After four failed attempts, Helen was eventually able to push herself up onto her feet and start heading out for the door. Once she'd waddled out of the nursery, she then started trailing off to where Dakota might have gone. Eventually, she found her, Bitsy, and Mayor Leeds all together in Bitsy's office.

Dakota's face lit up. "Oh, there you are, Helen! I was wondering when you'd show up." She seemed relieved from the sound of it.

Mayor Leeds then chimed in with, "Well, now that you're finally here, we have something important to discuss."

"Indeed," Bitsy chimed in as well. "Someone has been making anonymous calls threatening to not only set fire to the park, but also detonate some areas with ammonium nitrate."

"Ammonium nitrate?" Mayor Leeds tilted his head. "You mean like the stuff you can find in fertilizer?"

"Yes, that's the one. It's also the same sort of material that was used for the explosives in the Oklahoma City bombing."

"Oh my. Is there anything I can do? Is there anything we can do?"

"I'm not sure. But if I know you, and I'm almost certain that I do, you won't let them get away with this."

"Very true. Public safety is my number one concern. I made that very clear when I became mayor."

"Right. So what I would suggest is that you be proactive about this."

"How in the world am I supposed to do that? I'm just one guy."

"Well... you could find a way to get rid of the explosives somehow."

"I guess I could..." Mayor Leeds seemed to give this some thought. "But where would they even be storing them? How do we even know they have those explosives? I only have your word to go by."

"I'm sure we'll find that out later." Bitsy sent him off with the wave of her hand. "Alright, I think we've discussed enough. Good-bye."

"W-Wait a minute, Bitsy! Don't you want to hear about—?"

"No, I got the idea. Bye."

"But Bitsy—!"

"Bye."

"Bitsy!"

Helen chimed in. "This meeting is over. You got your point across. Bye."

Mayor Leeds finally got the hint and left. Once he was gone, Bitsy, Dakota, and Helen started talking amongst themselves.

"Bitsy, how do we know that someone's threatening to detonate explosives in Central Park?" Dakota asked curiously.

"Simple," Bitsy replied. "I'm working with them, and I've been doing so for a while."

Dakota's jaw practically dropped to the floor. "What? What do you mean?"

Helen proceeded to explain to Dakota all about Bitsy's never-ending quest to purchase Central Park just to have it bulldozed to make way for a new district, including the part where she hired the Russian mafia and the yakuza to get the job done. As she was explaining all this, Helen knew just how quixotic and frankly ridiculous the whole "demolishing Central Park" thing was. She knew that she shouldn't be going along with this plan, that it would only end in disaster and hurt all around; and yet, she just couldn't resist sticking around for the inheritance that she and her daughter would surely get when it was time for Bitsy to die.

"I, uh..." Dakota trailed off for a moment or two, unable to properly articulate a response to what she'd just heard. "Wow."

"I had a feeling you might say that," Helen replied.

"So you mean to tell me that we're working for someone who wants to kill people for land development?"

"Exactly. She's willing to do anything to get rid of Central Park, even if it means killing off innocent lives."

"So what are we supposed to do? Just help her with her plan?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Dakota sighed. "I don't know, Helen. I don't feel right about this whole thing."


Days passed since the meeting with Mayor Leeds. While Dakota still struggled with the revelation of what Bitsy had in store for the park, Helen chose to focus instead on the impending arrival of her daughter. She made that promise to do anything for her, no matter how shady it was, and she was not about to break it. Bitsy's inheritance was practically within her grasp. She wasn't about to let it slip away from her, not now, not when she was so close to having this baby.

However, with little time there was left before Helen was supposed to have her daughter, she decided to spend it getting everything prepared. The nursery had already long been completed, Shampagne was being trained to co-exist with a new baby in the suite, and things were slowly changing to make room for the upcoming youngest Brandenham. There was one last thing Helen planned to do before everything was set to change: attend the Metropolitan Opera.

Ironically, despite having an opera singer for a grandmother in her family and having been classically trained herself, Bitsy was apathetic towards opera in general. Odds are, if she were to attend one, she'd more likely than not fall asleep during one and sleep through the whole production. Helen had to witness this herself first-hand during the few times they attended an opera; much to her embarrassment.

The production running this month was "The Flying Dutchman," another opera from Richard Wagner. Jaap van Zweden was set to be the one conducting the ghostly staging of the dramatic production. Meanwhile, bass-baritone Tomasz Konieczny and soprano Elza van den Heever were to star as the Dutchman and Senta, respectively.

Fortunately for her, Helen had already purchased tickets for herself and Bitsy beforehand, so it was one less thing to stress about at the very least. As for Dakota, she didn't seem all that interested in going. As disappointed as she was, Helen figured that it was probably for the best anyhow. Dakota had been particularly moody lately, and Helen was worried that the concert might be too much for her to handle. Helen decided that it would be best to just let her stay home and relax. Besides that, she didn't know how much she would've liked the performance; and someone needed to stay behind to look after Shampagne. Who better to do that, perhaps, than Dakota herself?

There was also the matter of what Helen hoped to wear to "The Flying Dutchman." She'd been pilfering through so many of Bitsy's mother and Claudia's outfits that it was getting harder to choose anymore. It left with just one remaining option.

"Bitsy?" Helen asked.

"Yes, Helen?" Bitsy asked back.

"Is there any outfit your mother used to wear that would be appropriate for an opera?"

"Why? Have you been borrowing from my mother's wardrobe?!"

"No." That little lie left Helen's mouth almost as if it were a reflex.

Bitsy sighed. "For God's sake, if you really need to wear something to the opera, go ask Lionel about it. He's probably still hanging onto some clothes from his late wife or something, I don't know."

Helen couldn't help but wince at this suggestion. She knew full well that the death of Lionel's wife was still a sore subject for him. However, she wasn't about to argue with Bitsy on this point.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Helen said, her voice gentle. "I'll just ask him about it. Maybe he'll have something that I can use."

She gave Bitsy an uneasy smile before heading off to go find Lionel.


Helen headed down to the bar, sought Lionel out, amidst his shift and called out to him.

"What Helen's doing down here?" a patron mused out loud. "You think Bitsy sent her down to get a drink?"

"I don't know," Lionel replied. "I guess we'll just have to see."

Irritated that Lionel didn't respond right away, Helen stepped closer to the bar before then sitting down.

"What brings you down here?" Lionel asked Helen.

"Bitsy sent me down here to ask you about something," Helen replied.

Lionel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it?"

"She wanted me to ask you if I could borrow one of Perdita's dresses for 'The Flying Dutchman.'"

Lionel stopped what he was doing and grew quiet. Helen cringed inwardly. She wondered right then and there if it'd been a bad idea to bring his dead wife up at that exact moment.

"Sorry," she finally said. "I was just asking if you could help me out."

Lionel just nodded, his face unreadable.

"So... can I borrow a dress from you?" Helen asked, more cautiously this time.

Lionel nodded again, albeit slowly this time. "Yes, but you have to make sure the dress comes back to me in the same condition."

"Great. Do you have any that could fit me?"

"I don't know. I'd have to check."

Helen nodded. "Okay, thanks. I appreciate it."


Once Lionel had found one of Perdita's old dresses for Helen to wear, the first thing the latter did upon getting her hands on it was head towards Bitsy's walk-in closet and try the dress on to see if it actually fit her. It was a 1970s white tiered Victorian dress that had clearly been intended to be worn at a wedding. Helen didn't seem to mind its original purpose, though. She was frankly just happy to have something she could potentially wear to the opera. Carefully, she pulled the dress over her head and adjusted the fabric around her body, smoothing out any wrinkles or bunches. She then took a deep breath and studied her reflection in the mirror, admiring how the soft material draped over her curves. She was also pleasantly surprised by how well the dress fit, especially given how heavily pregnant she was.

Helen twirled around in front of the mirror, a small smile playing on her lips, as she got a feel for the dress she was wearing. Placing a gentle hand on her swelling belly, Helen pictured herself at the opera, radiant in the vintage dress, and it filled her with ineffable excitement. Even her pregnancy, which had left her feeling a bit self-conscious at times, seemed to be perfectly complemented by the flattering lines and feminine flair of the Victorian design.

Thank God for Lionel, huh? He'd been such a help during the whole thing. It was hard to imagine how she could've gone about it without him.

Once she'd worn the dress for about ten minutes, she slipped out of it and back into her regular clothes. She had to wonder how her daughter might like "The Flying Dutchman." After all, it wasn't like she could actually see or understand what was going on. Still, it wouldn't hurt to at least hear the whole thing. After all, who was to say that she wouldn't end up liking this kind of theatre form?

Just as it seemed that Helen had fully lost herself in her thoughts, she suddenly heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Helen called out.

"It's me, Dakota," replied a disembodied feminine voice from the other side.

"Okay, come on in."

Dakota pushed the door open and walked in, clearly antsy about something.

"Dakota, are you okay?" Helen asked, concerned.

"Uh, I really need to tell you something," Dakota could only reply.

"Yes?"

Dakota paused for a moment as she tried to collect her thoughts and figure out how to articulate herself. Finally, she replied, "I think I love you."

Helen blinked. She had no idea how to respond. It seemed to have come almost out of nowhere. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. She could feel her heart racing as she waited for Dakota to continue.

"Are you gonna say anything back?" Dakota asked when Helen had gone three minutes without speaking.

"I, uh..." Helen trailed off for a moment, still trying to process what she'd just heard. "I guess I'll have to think about it."

"Oh... okay."

"What do you think of the dress, by the way?"

"Dress? What dress?"

Helen pointed towards the white vintage dress, which was currently hanging on a shelf behind her. "That one."

Only then did Dakota notice the dress right there. "Oh, it looks fine. Looks old-timey."

"It's from the '70s. It was Lionel's wife's dress."

"Oh, okay. Are you gonna wear that to the opera?"

Helen nodded. "Yep. I love it."

Dakota smiled. "Great. I think it's perfect for you."

"Yeah, I think so too."

"Great. So, uh... I guess I'll go now."

"Oh, okay."

Helen just watched as Dakota walked out and shut the door behind her. Once she was certain Dakota had left, Helen breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on a nearby chair. She wasn't sure what was going to happen at the opera that day nor was she even sure she'd make it there. After all, there was always a chance that the baby would make her arrival before then. If there was one thing she was certain about, however, it was that it'd be the best thing she'd done this year.