Like Father, Like Son | Phantom of the Opera

xxii. A Master Plan

JANUARY 1919

ERIK

Things had mellowed out into a new kind of normal since Gustave's return. We were all so happy to have him home and I could tell that he was happy to be back as well. He seemed to have readjusted to being home again as well; for about the first week or so, he would wake up at the most absurd hour of the morning and be unable to go back to sleep. I suppose the years of having to wake up at that time had instilled a routine on his internal clock. Since he wasn't in school anymore, he had more time to help me run the business from home, which meant we were seeing more of each other in the past month than we had in the past few years. I could never complain about that, though; it was a joy to have him home again. The frequency of Lara's visits practically doubled, as it seemed that they were making up for lost time. I did have to admit, though, that not having William come through the front door everyday left an empty section of my heart. It was an unavoidable truth that things could never go back to exactly how things were.

A couple of months after his return, on a day that I knew was important, but couldn't recall why, Gustave was upstairs on the phone with a client while Nadir and I were in the midst of having a surprisingly peaceful afternoon together. Gustave had volunteered to be the one who dealt with the clients in person and on the phone, and for that, I was eternally grateful. So while he had requested some time alone in the office to have a conversation with someone who was being particularly difficult to work with, Nadir and I had been enjoying some tea and friendly conversation.

We had fallen into a moment of comfortable silence until Nadir started laughing for no apparent reason. "I forgot to tell you. You'll never guess what Adele reminded me of," he said as he put his cup on the coffee table.

I racked my brain for a moment trying to think of who he could be talking about. Last I had checked, I hadn't done any designs for anyone named Adele. I also couldn't remember Nadir ever mentioning anyone by that name, so I gave up and decided to ask the obvious question: "Who is Adele?"

"Oh, just a friend," he said sheepishly, though judging by the redness building up in his ears, I could tell it was more than "just a friend." One would think he knew better than to try and lie to me; he wasn't very good at it.

"Oh really?" I replied, making it very apparent that I didn't believe him. "Where did you meet this friend?"

"When we were in Paris all those years ago, she-"

"Okay, come on Nadir, stop being cryptic; that's my department. Who is this lady?" I had quickly become invested in whoever it was; it had been years since he had mentioned a woman besides his wife to me.

"Do you really need the details?" He looked like he really didn't want to share, but he knew I was too nosey to not ask given the option.

"I want all of them."

"I should have known better than to give you the option," he said as he looked down at his lap trying to hide his embarrassment, though he wasn't doing it very well; he was blushing furiously, which wasn't easy for a man of his skin tone, and that alone told me how uncomfortable he was talking about the matter at hand.

"That's not my problem. Now tell me," I said.

"We met in Paris as I said. She was working as a ballet instructor while I was new to the country. I met her after a visit to the Opera and we got to talking. We hit it off right away," he explained.

I immediately put the pieces together and shock was an understatement when describing my reaction. "Madame Giry!" I exclaimed.

"I think that might be a record for how quickly you've put something together in a social situation," he said as he kept trying to hide his embarrassment, but the tips of his ears were still doing him no favours.