What an appropriate time to be here! My dreams are dead along with the foliage! I thought to myself as I walked along on a bike path. I had seen only a few people in the park, and except for an occasional duck swimming in one of the small ponds in the park, I was alone. I have no idea how long I walked until I spotted a bench next to one of the small lakes and sat down on it. Roberta! I thought bitterly to myself, you depended on that job not only for money but to forget your troubles! Now you can't even do that! Nice going, idiot! You can't go home and you can't stay in France without a job! Now what are you going to do? Thoughts like these came unbidden and I began to cry again. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I did not notice I was no longer alone on that park bench until I heard a familiar voice say, "It looks like you're the one who needs company today, my dear!" I looked up and turned my head to see who was speaking. It was Erik, and in my misery, I had not even noticed that he was sitting right next to me!
"Erik! Where did you come from?" I asked, as I tried to stop crying.
"I followed you, and it's a good thing I did too," he replied.
"I lost my job," I said softly, finally regaining my composure.
"I know," he replied.
"I didn't do it! I didn't slash those costumes!" I exclaimed, trying hard not to cry again.
"I know you didn't," he replied, and then added, "You need a shoulder to cry on." He leaned toward me and pulled me closer to him, placed my head on his shoulder, and started to gently rock me back and forth. I could control myself no longer and started crying again, and then for what seemed a long time, I sat next to the last friend I had in France and cried on his shoulder. We must have looked quite a sight, the two of us--a middle-aged American woman crying on the shoulder of a man dressed in black slacks and a black jacket wearing a burn mask. Finally, my tears were spent and I stopped crying. "All done?" he asked gently.
I nodded my head and said, "All done."
"Good," he said as he took his arms from around me and reached into his breast pocket of his heavy outdoor jacket with one hand and pulled out a handkerchief. He added, "I've never known any woman to carry her own handkerchief, so I always carry one for her. Here, take this and dry your eyes. It's time to formulate a plan to get your job back!"
"Get my job back? That's impossible! Mme. Giry told Jean-Baptiste she would never let him hire me back!" I said bitterly, as I took his handkerchief and wiped my eyes.
"Look! You know you didn't slash those costumes and I know you didn't slash those costumes, but Giry doesn't know you didn't slash them. It's time she found out! Do you remember any details of that video?" Erik asked.
"No, I don't," I replied, shaking my head.
Erik shifted his seat slightly and then said, "I...overheard Giry telling Buquet that the tape was recorded yesterday morning at seven forty-five. I know that you weren't there in the costume room because you were with me then. I was giving you your daily singing lesson and unless you can be in two different places at the same time, I don't see how you could have ruined those costumes!" Erik exclaimed softly.
I lowered my head and said, "I know I'm innocent but how can I prove it?"
"Leave that to me!" he exclaimed, and then noticing that I did not raise my head to look at him, he asked, "What's wrong now?"
I kicked at a small pebble at my feet, and then replied softly, "I told Jean-Baptiste what was going on."
"What?" Erik asked sharply.
Knowing that he would not welcome the news I was to break to him, I paused for a moment before I answered softly, "He wanted to know why I was always arriving early and staying late...he wouldn't leave me alone until I told him. I only told him half the story...I told him you had been giving me singing lessons since last October." Even though I tried not to, I broke down again, and said through my tears, "I didn't want to betray you, Erik! Please, forgive me!"
Erik looked away from me for a moment, and I knew that he was probably trying to compose himself before he responded. I continued to hang my head in shame, for I felt that, for once, I truly deserved his wrath. He surprised me, however, for after he turned back to me, he said, far more gently than I felt I deserved, "You didn't betray me, exactly, but I would have preferred to tell Buquet myself. Did you tell him anything else?"
"I...told him you had worked there at the opera house before...as a singer, many years ago, and that's how you were able to teach me to sing," I replied softly, trying to stop crying.
He remained silent for a moment, and then said coldly, "That's something else I would have preferred to tell him myself! Anything else I should know about?"
I shook my head and said through my tears, for I had started to cry uncontrollably again, "I was so upset at that point, all I wanted to do was to leave and never come back!"
He remained quiet again for a moment, then put his arm around me again and said thoughtfully, "I suppose sooner or later Buquet would have found out about my past. Buquet can get whatever he wants whenever he wants, but I can deal with him later. Right now, it's Giry and Carlotta that I have to worry about..."
"Carlotta?" I asked, as I looked up at Erik.
"Never mind!" he replied sharply, and then added in the commanding tone of voice that I knew so well by this time, "Leave this little matter to me! With any luck, by the end of this week or by the first of next week at the latest, you'll have your job back, I assure you! Now, it's high time I got you back to the Fontaines! It's nearly four o'clock and the park will be closing soon. Besides, it's getting cold and will be dark soon as well. The park is no place to be after dark, believe me! Let's go!" He took his arm from around me and rose from the park bench. Then taking my hand to help me up, we walked through the park to the south entrance and left the Bois de Boulogne behind us.
We walked the equivalent of several American blocks until we came to a metro station entrance, and after we descended the steps into the station, he took me to a door at the far side of the station. We went through the door and found ourselves in another of the many steam tunnels that ran underneath the streets of Paris. It took us over two hours of steady walking, but by a little after six o'clock, we were at the Fontaines' apartment building. By this time, Erik was back to his old pleasant self and said softly, "I must leave you now, my dear. You should be hearing from the opera house in a few days at the latest, if not from Buquet himself, certainly from me. Things will get better for you, I promise. Go home now and get plenty to eat and lots of rest. Adieu, for now." He took my hand, kissed it as always, released it and turned and left. I hope you're right, Erik! I thought to myself as I watched the darkness swallow him up.
I went upstairs to the Fontaines and stayed there for the next three days, going out only once, and that was to buy some ibuprofen, for due to the shock of losing my job and worries about my financial obligations, I suffered from one of my worst migraines since coming to Paris. Since I had lost my job, I was unable to go to Dr. LeBlanc for any treatments, but because I was unemployed for less than thirty days, I was unable to take advantage of the national health care France provided for its citizens and resident aliens. Therefore, I had to rely on the same home remedies Erik had used the previous October, supplemented by regular doses of ibuprofen and an occasional cup of coffee.
By Friday, the headache had run its course and I woke up feeling exhausted but pain-free for the first time since Tuesday evening. It was a good thing I was feeling better for, just as Erik had promised, Jean-Baptiste called that mid-afternoon and asked me to come over to the opera house immdiately. "Is this to sign termination papers?" I asked.
"Termination papers? On the contrary, Roberta! Look, I'm not at liberty to discuss this right now, so could you please come down here as soon as you can?" Jean-Baptiste asked in an excited tone of voice.
More puzzled than angry at my treatment at the hands of the opera house mamgement, I replied, hesitantly, "Yes, of course. I'll be there as soon as possible."
As I put the phone receiver back in its' cradle (for the Fontaines had an old-fashioned rotary phone), Mme. Fontaine, who had been busy dusting the shelves in her dining room, looked up at me and asked, "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"
"M. Buquet de l'opera," I replied.
She must have seen an expression of amazement mixed with some doubt on my face, for she asked in a demanding tone of voice, "Qu'est-ce qu'il veut (what does he want)?"
"Je n'ai aucune idee mais il faut d'aller a l'opera (I don't have any idea but I have to go to the opera house)," I replied, shaking my head in puzzlement.
"Mais, prends garde a lui, eh, cherie? Je n'ai pas a confiance a lui (Beware of him! I don't trust him)!" Mme. Fontaine said in a commanding tone of voice.
I nodded my head in agreement and said, "D'accord! Moi non plus! Mais, con meme..." I let my voice trail off as I grabbed my jacket and left the apartment. No confidence is right! I thought to myself as I took the metro to the opera house. After the way Mme. Giry treated me and after what I've been through the past few days and I'm going to trust the opera house management? No way! Not even monsieur Buquet! Granted, he tried to keep me on but still, he should have known I would never do anything intentionally to lose my job! As it was, I was pushing the envelope when I went to Box Five with Erik. I would never even dream of vandalizing costumes, let alone actually go to the trouble of slashing them! So, I wonder what the hell is going on there!
I was soon to get the answer, for when I got to the opera house, Andre greeted me warmly and then told me to go to the managers' office. When I got up to the office, the door was open. Jean-Baptiste was sitting on a chair facing the desk and both Mme. Giry and M. Hauptmann were there as well. Mme. Giry was seated at her desk and M. Hauptmann was standing in back of her. Jean-Baptiste looked up from the conversation the three were having and said, "Bonjour, Roberta! Come in and sit down, please."
I hesitated for a moment and then stiffly said, "Very well, monsieur," before sitting down on the chair next to him.
Mme. Giry looked extremely uncomfortable seated in her chair at her desk. She fidgeted with her pen for a moment before glancing up at M. Hauptmann. Then she leaned forward from her chair and said, "Madame Martin, I don't quite know how to say this, so I will get directly to the point. It seems that we...I...was mistaken about you. Will you please allow me to demonstrate?" she finished by asking and waved her hand toward the small television set that was on her desk. I nodded my head, so she arranged the small television at an angle for all of us to see. She then dropped a video tape into the VCR and said, "This is the first tape you saw a few days ago." I watched as I saw what I thought was myself enter the costume room and promptly procede to slash and cut the men's work pants that hung on the clothes rack. This time, I noticed the date and time of the incident posted on the upper left corner of the tape. I realized Erik had been correct, for at that very moment, I had been in the small practice room he had set up, singing another of his compositions, and therefore was nowhere near the costume room. I kept my thoughts to myself and tried not to show any reaction other than to look at Jean-Baptiste out of the corner of my eye. After the tape finished playing, Mme. Giry pushed the stop button on the VCR and then the rewind button. "This is very incriminating evidence, is it not? Or is it?" Then, after pushing the eject button and retrieving the tape, she put another video tape into the machine and played it. It was a tape of the same crime but from another angle. I watched, seeming to be spellbound, and then Mme. Giry suddenly cried out,"There!" and pushed the freeze-frame button on the VCR. I sat there in shock at the picture I saw. Mme. Giry continued, "As you can see, it was definitely not you in the costume room a few days ago."
"No, it's not. It's...," I started to say.
Jean-Baptiste injected in a voice mixed with anger and amazement, "Carlotta!"
"Exactly!" M. Hauptmann completed the sentence for all of us. Then he added, "We did not find this piece of crucial evidence until the following day, after Mme. Giry so abruptly dismissed you. Because of the nature of the crime and the amount of damage done, it had to be reported to the police, of course. Mme. Giry found the second video on her desk Wednesday morning, and of course gave it to the police to see. We at the opera house wish to avoid scandal, if at all possible. It's bad for business, you know. At any rate, we were able to get the tape back from the police and keep this incident out of the papers."
"What about Carlotta?" I asked.
"Carlotta has been fired. It was a job which I found more enjoyable than I could imagine!" Mme. Giry exclaimed softly.
"But what does this have to do with me? I no longer work here either," I replied softly, trying hard not to get upset at the obvious injustice of the whole affair.
"Roberta, management has...well...I want you back," Jean-Baptiste said softly. I looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and contempt. Evidently, I made him feel uncomfortable, for he said, "I know I was probably much too hard on you the other day. Look, why don't we go to my office and discuss this further." He rose from his chair and motioned for me to follow him downstairs. We walked downstairs to his office and, after we entered it, he closed the door behind us, and for the next several minutes, he tried very hard to persuade me into returning to the opera house. After he finished his spiel, I looked at him and said sternly, more as a statement than a question, "And just what makes you think I'll come back after the way you and Mme. Giry treated me."
"Because you and I both know you love this opera house, because you and I both know that you loved your job and, except for Carlotta, you enjoyed working with the company...and because I know that you really don't want to give up your singing lessons. Erik and I had...shall we say, a little talk after you left Tuesday noon," Jean-Baptiste replied softly, in his most persuasive tone of voice. I said nothing, still upset over the whole affair, and still very distrustful of Jean-Baptiste. I also sensed that he wished to say more, and I was right, for he added, "This is a situation which I don't entirely approve of, by the way--these singing lessons of yours. You aren't exactly doing this on your own free time, you know. Once you're here at the opera house, you are on company time, not yours. But I really haven't any grounds to complain, for you have managed to get all your work done on time. Still...you aren't here to learn to sing but to sew."
"That's true, but I have done all the projects you asked me to do. Did you tell Mme. Giry about my singing lessons?" I replied.
He took a deep breath and said, "No, I didn't. I haven't told anyone yet and I probably won't either, at least for the time being. Unless you give me a good reason to tell...Look, I really need a worker I can count on, which I've been able to do so far concerning you...despite these lessons of yours."
"I'm sorry if I've made you feel you can't trust me, but let's face it, after Tuesday's incident, I'm not sure I can trust you or the management either," I replied, glad to be honest with him for a change.
"Not trust...well, I guess after what happened, Giry and I have that coming from you. Anyway, you haven't said if you're coming back or not. Look, I know Giry doesn't always deal with the hired help like she should, but believe me, she feels pretty bad about this whole thing. As for me not trusting you, you're wrong about that. I admit these lessons of yours took me by surprise, but as for your work on the costumes here, you've done a wonderful job and I don't want to lose you, if the truth be known. Besides, it's not you that I don't trust, it's Erik. If I had known he had worked here before, I wouldn't have hired him," Jean-Baptiste replied.
"If you don't trust Erik, why don't you fire him?" I asked very softly, more to myself than to Jean-Baptiste.
"Because, like you, he's good at his job. And he doesn't charge exorbitant rates like all the other exterminators I tried before I hired him," Jean-Baptiste replied, and then added, "You haven't said if you're coming back or not, Roberta."
"Monsieur Buquet, please don't think I'm being a prima donna, because I'm really trying hard not to be one. God knows Carlotta was bad enough, but both you and Mme. Giry were unfair...damnably unfair, and I didn't deserve to be treated like I was and you both know it! How do I know I won't be unjustly and wrongfully accused of doing something else? I know Carlotta's not here any more but...I don't know..." I replied, my voice trailing off.
"I figured that you would feel that way and I really don't blame you. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have and I know Mme. Giry did too. Management told...asked me to make the following offer to you--that we pay you for the days you weren't here, just as if you worked your regular hours, and that we give you another raise--the equivalent of thirty francs an hour more, effective immediately," Jean-Baptiste said quietly, perhaps hoping that this generous offer would placate me.
I tried hard not to be suspicious, but this offer seemed a little too generous coming from the likes of Mme. Giry, who was known for her thriftiness. "In exchange for what?" I asked.
"In exchange for not saying anything publicly about this entire affair. Management doesn't want to have a scandal on its' hands, and besides, in addition to being short-handed, work hasn't been the same without you. You should see Michel and Jacqueline--if you thought they were bad before you came, you should see them now!" Jean-Baptiste exclaimed.
I smiled, shook my head, and said, "All right. When do you want me to start back."
"Now would be a good time," Jean-Baptiste replied, and then added, "Michel and Jacqueline went out to buy blue jeans for the chorus and cast to wear for Girl of the Golden West. There was no time to make any more work pants and the way Carlotta slashed and cut up the ones we had..."
Just then the father and daughter team came into the room and started talking all at once to Jean-Baptiste. He put his hand up to quiet them and then Jacqueline turned and saw me and exclaimed, "Roberta! You're back!"
Michel turned around just as his daughter started to speak and asked, as she was talking, "You're back for good?"
I nodded my head and said, "Yes, I'm back and I hope, for good this time."
"Well, it's awfully good to have you back. We missed you, and I know Buquet did too, even if he won't admit it, right Buquet?" Michel said, and then looked at Jean-Baptiste.
Seeming to be a little embarassd by Michel's remark, Jean-Baptiste said, "Yes, I'm glad to see her back too, but for now, we need to get these jeans out and get them fitted for everybody , so I'm afraid it's back to work for all of us. We can hold a reunion later." Taking his cue, we all reverted to a business-like manner, and for the next few hours, the three of us fitted costumes for the cast and chorus of the new production.
It was a time-consumming task but a rewarding one as well. By seven that evening, we had the last of the jeans altered to a perfect fit for each wearer and had just put the last pair in the costume room. "God, I'm glad that's done!" Michel exclaimed as he returned from the costume room.
"And not a moment too soon, mon vieux! Now that those jeans are done, we should have the reunion I promised. Let's all go over to the Cafe de la Paix for a drink to celebrate Roberta's return!" Jean-Baptiste suggested to everyone's hearty agreement--everyone, that is, except myself.
I shook my head and said, "Could we postpone this until tomorrow night?While I was...gone, I had another of my infamous migraines. I suppose that was a better time to have it than now, but I'm still not really feeling up to doing much," I replied.
"Are you sure?" Jacqueline asked.
I nodded my head and then Jean-Baptiste said, in mocking sternness, "Very well then, but we're holding you to tomorrow night."
I smiled and said michieviously, "I'll remember that. You are buying drinks for everybody, aren't you?"
"Oh, go on with you. We'll see you tomorrow night!" Jean-Baptiste said, this time in mock anger.
"Good night everybody. I'll see you tomorrow," I said, smiling. Then I grabbed my things and left the opera house.
As I waited aat the metro station for my train, I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw a familiar figure standing next to a door, which I assumed was for custodians. I made my way through the crowd of Friday-night commuters to where Erik was standing. Silently, he motioned for me to follow him through the door. I looked around to see if anybody saw me in this somewhat out-of-the-way corner. No one seemed to be looking my way. Everybody's probably too concerned about getting home and getting ready for the weekend, I thought to myself as I followed Erik into the room.
I was right, for it was a custodian's workroom, with all kinds of janitorial supplies against one wall along with a small tool chest and other things I could not make out in the dim light eminating from the single lightbulb in the ceiling. Seeming determined to move on, Erik opened a door at the corner of the far wall and silently motioned for me to follow. I followed him through the door and found myself in one of the steam tunnels. Thinking he was going to take me home to the Fontaines. I was surprised to find that he was leading me back to the opera house. As we made our way down the stairs leading to the lake, I finally found the courage to ask, "Why are we coming back here?"
"Surely you haven't forgotten my English lesson?" Erik asked softly as he helped me into the boat, then untied it from the pylon and propelled it toward the other side of the lake.
"No, I haven't but..." I said, my voice trailing.
"But what?" Erik asked and then added, "I have missed my English lessons very much this past week and now would be a good time to resume them."
"I suppose, but I told Jean-Baptiste and the others that I wasn't feeling well. Besides, won't they see us. I don't think they've left yet," I replied.
"They left all right, right after you did. I...overheard Buquet dismissing them and telling them to be in tomorrow to make sure all the costumes would be in order. So, we don't have to worry about being seen by them. Besides, I planned on having our lesson in my office this time. I'm sorry to hear that you're ill. Is it another headache?" Erik finished by asking.
I nodded my head and said, "Yes. It started Tuesday evening after you left me and kept on until this morning when it finally broke." Even though there was only a dim light coming from the flashlight, I could see concern in his eyes, so I explained, "Because I thought I lost my job permanently and I hardly have any money left from my last paycheck, I felt I couldn't go back to Dr. LeBlanc until I had enough money to pay him. Now that I've got my job back, I can give his office a call to let him know what happened. I'll probably do that Monday morning."
"How do you feel now?" Erik asked.
"I feel better. The pain is gone but I'm still pretty tired. I just thought of something. I should have called Mme. Fontaine to let her know what's going on," I replied, forgetting where I was at that moment and tried to stand up in the boat.
Erik quickly put his hand firmly on my shoulder and said, "Careful. You don't want to capsize the boat and put us both in the lake." He then chuckled and added, "You must be feeling better to nearly upset the boat like you just did. To make sure that you will continue to be on the mend, I have a small surprise...a treat, if you will, planned for this evening. But first, you must give me my lesson."
As he brought the boat to the other side of the lake and tied it to its' mooring, he turned to me and looked straight at me as he finished his words. I knew by the look in his eyes that he was absolutely serious. I sighed and said, "All right, Erik. I'll give you another lesson but I honestly don't know what I'm going to use. I left my books back at the Fontaines, not realizing Jean-Baptiste would actually hire me back. Speaking of that, I suppose I owe you one for helping me get my job back."
"Actually, you owe me more than that. You owe me three favors; the first for the first time I helped you when you got sick last October, the second for getting your job back, and a third favor, if my plan of helping you feel better from this headache works," Erik said with a twinkle in his eye.
I could only smile at his words, shake my head and say, "Well, let's get started then."
After he finished tying the boat to the mooring, he helped me out of the boat and we walked over to the small room just off the lake that served as his office. As we entered the room, Erik aimed the beam of his flashlight onto the small table and then walked over to it, placed the flashlight on it and lit the oil lamp that was in the middle of the table. He then adjusted the flame until the whole room was lit by that same oil lamp. Turning off the flashlight, Erik exclaimed softly, "Let there be light!" I smiled at his little joke as he put a round ball-shaped lamp shade through the lamp's clear glass chimney and secured the lamp shade to its' tripod support just above the lamp's brass base.
"That helps immensely! It really makes this room seem charming, but...what are those?" I asked as I pointed to what seemed like two mounds of cloth that were on the far corner of the table, right next to the far wall of the room.
"Those are part of the treat I mentioned earlier, but you will have to wait to have them until after you give me my lesson," Erik replied as he placed the chairs at the table, one on the side of the table with its' back to the door and the other to its' right, next to the far wall. He motioned for me to sit next to him, to his left and after I sat down, he took a pocketsized paperback book that was next to the largest pile of cloth, opened the book, and then said, "I would like you to help me read this book."
"What is it? What's the title?" I asked.
He slowly but softly read the title of the book aloud. "The Loin, the Witch and the Wardrobe."
"That's from 'The Chronicles of Narnia'! I haven't read that since I was a child!" I exclaimed softly, amazed that he would have found any of C.S.Lewis' works in English here in France.
"Will you read it with me?" he asked softly.
I looked at him and saw an anxious look in his eyes and I felt he would be deeply disappointed if I refused, so I said, "Of course. It will be good to go back and read C.S.Lewis." And so, for the next hour, we read one of my favorite fairy tales from my childhood. Even though the author had written this book over half a century earlier, I found I was able to answer Erik's questions on the terms the author had used quite easily. Unfortunately, we were not able to finish the book in our hour's lesson but were only able to read the first seven chapters. After Erik closed the book, I asked, "O.K. maestro, where'd you get the book?"
Erik merely smiled and said, "I'll tell you after you have the rest of the treat I promised you. After all, you've probably earned it."
"The rest of the treat? What's the first part of the treat?" I asked.
Erik smiled and said impishly, as he leaned over to the pile of cloth, "I thought you enjoyed reading fantasies...and surprises."
"That depends on the surprise," I said mischieviously. Then I looked in amazement at what was revealed when Erik took a cloth off of what was underneath the largest pile. The cloth turned out to be a tea cosy, and underneath it was a white porcelain teapot and two mugs. I sniffed the air and asked, "No mint tea this time?"
He shook his head and said, "Not this time. My dear, I'm going to break one of my own rules this one time and allow you to have some real black tea--only not that orange pekoe tea." He grimaced, or at least seemed to grimace since I was unable to see his entire face due to the mask he was wearing. I could only see the lower half of his face as he talked and could only assume by the way he contorted his lips that he was not fond of regular black tea.
I chuckled and said, "Don't you like orange pekoe tea?" He shook his head, so then, trying not to make him feel bad, I added, "It doesn't smell like plain black tea. It smells more like citrus. Is it lemon tea?"
He shook his head again and replied, "No, it's Earl Grey. I must admit I've never tried it before so this will be the first time I have drunk it."
"What's under the other cover?" I asked.
"That's the last part of your treat," Erik said as he took the cover off and revealed a small warming tray which held two small items, each the size of my palm, wrapped in foil.
"What are those?" I asked.
"My dear, I can't very well send you home without something to eat. You just got over a headache and I don't want to see you get another, certainly not on my account anyway. Besides, tea is quite plain without something to eat it with, don't you agree?" Erik replied as he unwrapped two small scones from their foil and then rewrapped one in a cloth napkin and handed it to me.
As he poured tea into the two mugs, I said, "Erik, you never cease to surprise me. How did you get all this stuff in here without being seen and how in the world did you manage to keep the food warmer going?"
Erik smiled again as he handed a mug of tea to me. I had unwrapped the scone and placed it on my napkin which I placed on the table before me and then took the mug of tea he was handing to me and put it beside my napkin on the table. After he took his mug of tea, he began to sip from it. Then he finally answered, "I always leave the oil lamp here, to use in case I am unable to use an electric lamp, for there is only one electrical outlet here in this room, and I'm using that at the moment for the food warmer I brought from home. I also brought the cover and tea cosy, the napkins, the teapot and the mugs from home as well as the electric pot and tea bags. As for the scones, I stopped off at the English Rose and bought them. I hope they taste better than the potted shrimp and the pasty we had there last fall!"
I nodded my head and said, "The tea has cooled down some but it still tastes good. I haven't tried the scone yet, though."
"Go ahead and try it and tell me what you think. I've never had scones before and the only things that I have eaten that are like scones are panettone and stollen," Erik replied as he drank his tea.
I bit into the scone and found that the English Rose had at least one item on its menu that reflected the glory of the English kitchen. The scone was every bit as good as it should have been--golden brown on the outside, slightly sweet and moist but not doughy on the inside and filled with both dark and golden raisins and bits of almond. "I think the restaurant got it right this time. It's definitely better than the pasty," I said after I finished chewing. I quickly added, "I know what stollen is because I've had it a couple of times, but what's panettone?"
"It's a coffe cake that's similar to stollen. The Italians eat it for breakfast," Erik explained and then broke off a piece of his scone and ate it. "You're right, this does taste better than what we had at the restaurant. Would you like the rest of the tea? This tea tastes better than I thought it would, but I'm afraid I'm not much of a black tea drinker," Erik added as he motioned toward the teapot.
"Yes, I would like some more tea, but I get the feeling that this will be the last time you'll let me drink real tea," I replied.
"You're right again, my dear, but, as you Americans say, all good things must come to an end, in more ways than one, I'm afraid," he said softly.
"Why? You're not ending my singing lessons, are you?" I asked.
"Oh, no, nothing like that. I don't want to give you up as a student, and I really don't want my English lessons to end. No, I'm afraid I'm talking about something else entirely. I'm afraid the peace this opera house had enjoyed for the past few days will be at an end," he replied.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He paused for a moment and then said, "Management does not always break bad news gently, so I think I should be the one to tell you this. After you left to help Buquet with the jeans, I...overheard the managers talk on the telephone. It seems Carlotta will be back Monday."
"Carlotta? I thought she was fired!" I exclaimed softly, incredulous that management would even consider taking her back after what she had done.
"As did we all. When doing my rounds, I'm able to...hear things, so I'm able to know what goes on around here better than most. I...overheard the managers walk with her lawyers on the phone and I gather that she has threatened to sue the managers and the owners, and is bringing in the Minister of Culture and even monsieur Le Pin himself, on her behalf," Erik explained.
"Does Jean-Baptiste know?" I asked, as I finished eating my scone.
"No. No one else knows this. Only the managers and you and I know this. Tell no one about this for the time being. This bad news will get around soon enough," Erik replied.
"But what about me? She'll have me out of here so quick..." I said softly, my voice trailing off.
"I don't think so. Management agreed to take her back with nothing mentioned about the grounds for her dismissal if, and only if you were kept on in the costume department. Management threatened to create an international incident with a counter-suit exposing both Carlotta's xenophobia and her ties to Le Pin and his nationalists if she didn't agree to keeping you on. Evidently, she agreed," Erik said softly.
"So, I'll be able to stay on after all. I'll do everything I can to avoid her but..."I shook my head as my voice trailed off again, and then, after thinking about something, I added, "Since you know just about everything that goes on around here, maybe you can tell me about the security cameras. I didn't know the opera house had any, especially in the costume rooms. And where else do they have them?"
Erik smiled again as he began to gather everything together, and then said, "The cameras were put in the costume rooms and the small prop room some time ago. I don't know of any other rooms or places in the opera house that has them with the possible exception of the opera house museum. I guess they're in there for security reasons." Then he stopped smiling and added, "I disabled the ones in the costume rooms because I don't want anybody to see me as I do my rounds, or, at least I thought I did. Evidently, Carlotta fixed the ones in the first costume room and used those to frame you. My only consolation in this whole affair is that she didn't get away with her little scheme. I suspected that she was the one who fixed the cameras and put film in both of them, hoping to 'prove' your guilt. Instead, one camera showed her in profile as she vandalized the costumes. After the first video 'mysteriously' appeared on the managers' desk, I went to that costume room to check the cameras. This was after I took you home from the Bois de Boulogne. I found the film in the second camera, and why Carlotta hadn't found it first and taken it, I'll never know. Maybe she thought it would show the same crime from the same angle or maybe she thought she'd only need one video to implicate you. At any rate, I took the video home with me and played it on my VCR, and then the next morning, the tape somehow managed to 'mysteriously' appear on the managers' desk just as the first one had. Now, how do you suppose that happened?" Erik asked with a devilish gleam in his eye.
I chuckled at his little story, and then became serious and asked, "But how did you know it was Carlotta that was behind this?"
"I wasn't certain of it, I only suspected. Did Buquet tell you about your predecessor?" Erik asked.
I nodded my head and said, "He told me that she wants an old friend of hers to be Jean-Baptiste's assistant."
"Yes, she does, but she's not going to get her way if I can help it! Buquet's right about her. She may very well be the best soprano this opera house has seen in a long time, but she's also the biggest trouble maker that's ever worked here. I don't blame Buquet for taking an early retirement because of her but I must say I'll miss him. As for Carlotta, mark my words, my dear. She'll get herself into so much trouble one day that even Le Pin won't be able to help her!" Erik exclaimed, and then changing the tone of his voice and becoming calm again, he added, "It's getting quite late and I need to get you home. No doubt the Fontaines must be wondering where you are and it's after nine already. I'll come back later on to get these things. In the meantime, get your things and I'll take you home."
With that, our little tea party ended. Even though Erik had to end it somewhat abruptly, he was very pleasant on the way to the Fontaines. He was right about his little treat. The scone revived me a little bit and the tea ended what little was left of my headache and energized me enough to make it back to the Fontaines. As Erik was about to leave me at the apartment building, I said, "Thank you very much for the tea and thank you for getting my job back for me. I'm just sorry you couldn't get rid of Carlotta as well. It would have been a favor to all of us if you had."
Erik took my hand, kissed it and said, "Everyone deserves to have a peaceful working environment, especially you. Don't worry about her--she'll get hers in the end. As for you, I'll see you Monday morning for your next singing lesson. A bien tot." Then, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows as always.