So, Clara DeLune do you want to commit a crime today?

I slung my bag across my shoulder and considered this thought.

The Hûit Ave Theatre loomed in front of me. It had the bones of a Victorian building but it had clearly been renovated multiple times over the months, years and decades.

For whatever reason the Hûit Ave Theatre… called to me? If I could just get inside. Well, it didn’t help that the building was closed and under construction. The façade of the theater was covered in metal supports and the sidewalk had been taken up that morning by a crew. I’d gone out of my way to drive by it when I dropped Rose and Clarence off at school.

I had to get inside… for some reason.

I could climb the metal fence in my flats, but what would I do about the bolt lock on the front door? Why the hell had I woken up in this theatre two weeks ago?  Was my engagement ring still in there? I ran my finger over the flat surface of the glass and quartz copycat ring.

“What the hell are you doing, Clara?”

I didn’t even turn when I heard Geri’s voice. I just kept thinking maybe if I came really early I could convince one of the construction workers to let me in. Or maybe I could just call the owner of the theater. Make up some lie about my family wanting to buy the theatre and ask for a tour?

I turned and fashioned the brightest smile I could for Geri. She was smoking a clove cigarette and had her guitar on her back, no case, just leaving the cherry wood exposed to the elements. Her teal hair is up in a big bun and her dark eyes are questioning me.  Unlike her I kept my guitar in a protective case, which I pulled from where I’d stashed it when I’d considered breaking into the theater.

“What do you know about this theater?” I asked.

“Hold on.” she said pulling out her phone.

“I could have googled It.”, I told her hoping our friendship was at the place where light sarcasm was in order.

“Then why are you asking me?” she said with a wry smile.

“I don’t know. You’re a local?”

We fell into step next to each other, I followed her down the street to the bar where we were having my lesson, using the bar was mostly an excuse to relax and hangout.  I’d had just enough time to drive Rose and Clarence home. I’d been in such a rush to get back to Paris that I hadn’t even changed out of gym clothes, so I’d stopped by the new Rebecca Mink off downtown and begrudgingly grabbed a size 6 dress.

Geri put out her cigarette before we entered. She was . . . around the same age as me. We rented space in the same co-working space for music tutoring. We kind of bonded over travel, she was saving to go to Los Angeles in the winter to check out the indie music scene. I was helping her plan even though I’d yet to go myself. She’d invited me and even said I could bring Rose but I’d declined, even though it sounded like the vacation I needed.

“Hey, I invited my friend Eleanor to have drinks with us. Is that okay?”

“Sure, I’d like to meet someone from your mysterious past.”

I smiled, Geri hated how tight lipped I was about my past and about a lot of my present. It was always too much to explain.

“Eleanor actually lives in San Francisco and she’s been to L.A a ton.”

“Cool.”

The Bonne was a cozy Irish bar that was a little rough around the edges. The walls were lit up with an amazing collection of neon signs, it was small but had an outstanding collection of bottled beers available.

We practiced in the back near the pool tables. Geri knew the owner, Lenox, and he kind of hovered around. I sat on the stool and did my best to keep up with Geri resisting the urge to open my mouth when we played a song I knew. No one deserved to hear me sing. I laughed a little at myself.

“Why are you smiling?” Geri asked

“I . . . nothing.” I said no wanting to admit I’d made myself laugh.

“You’re not bad, Taylor/”, Lenox said sauntering over.

I looked at him and kind of pursed my lips in mock annoyance. Lenox was maybe in his late thirties but his wardrobe, which consisted of vintage beer t-shirts and ripped jeans, told another story. He also knew more about beer than I thought was possible.

“You know my name is Clara, we’ve met like twice”

“Hey, American girl with acoustic guitar. . . I instantly think Taylor Swift.” He said.

“Stop flirting. She’s fucking engaged”, Geri said, she cursed a lot and every time it threw me off.

“Duh. I know people in space can see that ring”, Lennox said setting down an unopened anise microbrew. I pretended like I didn’t care that he was starting at the giant rock on my finger.

“To a man who probably makes more money than you will in your entire life”, Geri finished. I kind of wished she’d put her claws away, especially since my trust fund made more money that Fierro ever could.

“I know”, Lennox reached up to my neck and I started to back away when he pulled the tag off my dress, “200 dollars for a dress with the shoulders cut out?”

“It was on sale”, I lied. It had really been the first thing I saw. I stuffed the tag in my purse and started to put my guitar away, “My friend Eleanor is going to be here soon and I’d like to buy the first round.”

“Whatever you want.” Lenox said, “Sorry I was such a jerk.”

“It’s fine”, I said pushing m hair back, “A rum and coke and all will be forgiven.”

He smiled and took Geri’s order. By the time we’d finished our first drinks Geri and I had gone from student/teacher to friend’s mode.

“How’s the job search going?” She asked.

“Not great, but I’m working on the foundation. Maybe I’ll get to plan one of those glamourous fundraisers.”

“Speaking of—“

“CLARA!”

Eleanor had arrived and she bought her hand to her mouth realizing she had yelled. She had on a floral sundress and keds. She didn’t seem to feel anyway about looking like an American tourist and that was why I loved her. Hugging her always felt like the first day of school all over again.  When we’d meet up by the oak tree and dramatically embrace like we hadn’t just seen each other the previous day.

“Geri, Lenox”, I said, “This is my friend from Eleanor. We grew up together.”

“Hi”, Eleanor said in French, “My French is . . . okay?”

“My English is better”, Geri said switching to English.

“I’m buying. Whatever you want.” I offered.

“I need something strong”, Eleanor said sitting herself down, “I had to deal with Granny all day. She didn’t like the handicap room in the first hotel so we had to switch to another one. Then she wanted a digital camera even though she had a smart phone every time she sees a straight man she tries to give him my phone number. In every country we’ve been to. Granted this woman only speaks English and me. . . Oh I’m so sorry Clara”

“No it’s fine.” She was always like this when it came to grandmas.

“No. No I should be lucky that I still have Granny and that we are doing this trip together. I know you and your grandmother always wanted to come back here and I—“

“It’s fine”, I said then switched the subject, and “Eleanor and I studied together. She plays the cello for what? Two different symphonies?”

Eleanor waived her hand.

“That was years ago. I’m a music therapist now”, she said, “I mostly work with non-verbal autistic kids.”

“My God, you’re a saint.” Geri said.

“Plus the money is amazing.” Eleanor said.

Eleanor and I kind of clung to each other all night. I just wanted to hold on to her to a life I could remember loving.

I showed her my guitar and Lenox dug up some stickers he used for marketing the bar and gave me oneto put on it. The Bonne sticker was kind of tacky next to my “bridge over trebled waters” bumper sticker. I was going to peel it off before it go to comfortable.

“There I am in the middle of Der Walle”, Eleanor fights for the words she’d started slurring in the middle of her story, “The Red Light district, okay.  Having to walk slowly so my granny’s cane doesn’t get caught on the cobblestone. She was just having a grand time and she keeps saying—these prostitutes aren’t that pretty. You’re prettier than them.”

Everyone started laughing.

“Oh my God, Did you buy your granny a prostitute?” Geri asks raising an eyebrow.

“No”, Eleanor said laughing, “She said she just wanted to look and catch a sex show? It’s like she thought we were on Broadway or something.”

“Did you?”

“I did without her”, Eleanor said earning a laugh from everyone around the table. I could tell she was embellishing about that last part by the tone of her voice.

“God, that shit should be legal here”, Geri said, “Like in Austria, right Clara.”

I lined my two anise beer bottles next to my empty highball glass, pretending like I didn’t hear her, “What?”

“It’s legal in Austria. You did live there for two years.”

All eyes turned to me. I just shrugged my shoulders, “I wouldn’t know I’m just a good Catholic girl.”

 “Oh my God, Clara”, Eleanor jumped in, “You were single for like ten years before you got engaged. . . well except for that old guy you broke up with at your daughter’s second birthday. Don’t tell me you didn’t get lonely.”

Hmm. Lonely.

We're lonely in here, Clara

Geri suddenly slammed her hand on the table and I jolted.

“What? Clara DeLune is no the sweet innocent girl she pretends to be”, Geri leaned in, “How old was this boyfriend?”

Eleanor shot me an “I’m sorry” face and pointed to her beer. I guess Geri and I were close enough now that I could let her in a little but more.

“Let’s see. I was twenty four and he was . . . forty-eight. And it wasn’t a birthday party it was two adults taking a fussy toddler out to dinner in the Hamptons.”

“So fancy. I would like more details”, Gerri said.

“We drove up to East Hampton. Rose threw a temper tantrum, poured 185$ wine on my boyfriend, bit the waiter twice, threw a fork at me and set her Cabbage Patch doll on fire.”

I pointed to the little scar under my chin as proof. Okay, she had thrown the doll on the table and the candle caught it, but I swear she did it on purpose.

“That is not what I meant”, Geri said, “But Jesus Christ are babies scary.”

I’d also force fed Rose cold medicine that weekend so she would sleep through the evenings we spent together and I swear she still remembered it. But she was in her terrible twos and she had coughed at least twice.

 Sensing my discomfort Eleanor swopped in with a hilarious tales of her ex- long term boyfriend whom had finally decided to leave when he realized Eleanor was moving her aging grandmother into the spare bedroom whether he liked it or not.

And now that Lenox had disappeared Geri and Eleanor seemed to want to talk more freely about men and if it weren’t for my phone still in my car I could have made up and excuse and escaped. I listened intently but I knew if I kept too quiet too long, Gerri would call me out and for being prudish.  Eleanor knew I hated talking about this kind of f stuff. Right after Peter and I got engaged, and he made me sit down and talk about how I wanted to spend my wedding night and I spent all day literally hiding from him. It had turned into a childish game of hide and seek in my parents’ house that he totally let me win and we spent an hour making out in the laundry room. I’d just been a basket of crazy during our engagement. Peter was a saint for dealing with me.

God, had that really been my life before? I took another sip of a beer I hoped was mine to stop myself from laughing at the memory.

“Oh, Also” Geri said, and I nearly dropped my beer when she pulled out a familiar peony colored envelope with the looping signature inviting her to the masquerade, “This is the nicest invitation I’ve ever gotten. Thanks you so much for inviting me.”

What the hell?

 “I framed mine” Eleanor said.

I snapped my head to Eleanor.

“You got one too?” I said then I saw the questioning look she gave me, “I mean you go one to !”

“Yeah, when did you have time to slip it under the hotel door?”

“I have a lot of free time?” I said.

“I don’t know what to wear”, Geri said, “I mean where I even fine a masque?”

“There is a costume shop uptown, the owner said parties like that were really en vogue back in the day”, Eleanor told her, and “My grandmother and I picked up some amazing ones yesterday.”

I stared at Eleanor.

“Your grandmother is coming?” I said.

“Well, her name was on the invitation too. She said she really wants to meet your fiancé for some reason. She says she knows his family?”

 “I just thought. It might be too much for her. She’s almost 90”

“Don’t tell her”, Eleanor said, “Speaking of which I really do need to check on her.”

“I should head back tool, I’ll drive you.”

We all sort of stood up at the same time and started paying our tabs.  I felt. .. Bubbly. How many beers had I had?

Eleanor and I walked back to my car in silence. I tried to fit it all together; because somehow learning to play an acoustic version of an 80’s song in a low key bar and drinking cheap beer with old and new friends didn’t quite work into the stately country home where tomorrow I’d be in a dress and make up, having espresso and pastries on the patio trying to have a polite conversation before driving my over privileged daughter to private school.

I hadn’t had a chance to clean out my car, it was mostly empty except for all the e-cigarettes Rose had hidden in the pockets and glove compartments. Eleanor picked up and flipped through one of the notebooks Rose had abandoned in the backseat.

“These are good”, she said looking at the drawings, “Um, some are a little weird.”

I glanced over to see her studying one of a fair young princess getting her ears eaten by trolls.

“Rose . . . has some issues.” I said turning to go the long way back to her hotel.

“Is she okay?”

“Well, when she gets emotional she can’t control herself.  Sometimes I’m afraid she might hurt someone or herself.”

“If she is dangerous to herself or others”, Eleanor said, “You might want to look into medication.”

“I . . . is that crazy? She’s been in remission for two years and I don’t know if I want to give her drugs. I don’t think her father would understand. But she can be so hard to handle sometimes.

“Well, I’m an advocate for alternative therapy”, she said, “But that’s heavy shit Clara.”

“Yeah, sorry to dump on you.”

“It’s fine.”

I park in front of her hotel and walk with her to the lobby. Mrs. Caldwell is sitting at the hotel bar with some guide books.

“Granny”, Eleanor said, “What are you doing down here?”

“I was just people watching.” she said and she’d seemed to be making the most of it. Her pixie platinum blonde hair was pulled back and she had on a glittery short sleeve top and black pants and the same electric pink lipstick Eleanor was wearing, her gold and black cane propped up next to her. She looked glamourous actually.

“Let’s head up, Granny”

“The night is still young and I want to talk to Clara”

Uh oh. What did I do now?

“I’ll make sure she gets up okay”, I said to Eleanor.

Eleanor and I part and she wraps her pinky around mine like we did in middle school because we thought it was cool for some reason.

“Kir Royal?” Mrs. Caldwell asked, “The bartender said it’s a popular French cocktail”

“Sure”, I said digging around in my purse for a credit card, “But it’s on me.”

“Ohhh, black card.”

“Oh, it’s just . . . because my trust fund is invested with the bank so . . . um never mind.”

“Look Clara, I wanted to talk to you because when I saw your invitation it kind of triggered something for me. And then I saw that picture of your little girl. Look I’m almost 90 years old and before I go I thought I should. . . open up. The man you’re marrying. He’s from New York I assume.”

“Sure.", I decided.

“And his family . . .”, Mrs. Caldwell pressed.

“He’s . . . they are dead ?”

 “I figured. I knew the Fierro family—a brother and sister— they used to live in Chataqua county back in the day. They had a mangy old farm. The brother got himself into trouble with a lot of the young girls and widows . . . if you know what I mean, dear. Six or seven I heard. I’m assuming he’s related in that, ahem, manner."

“Yeah”, I said, “I think he mentioned something about that.”

“Well. There was something else about the Fierros. They had a . . . ward, an orphan boy that used to live with them”, I nearly chocked on my drink but Mrs. Caldwell didn’t notice, “We were all friends… well not really friends but he was really sweet on Lucie. Maybe a little too much.”

“What does this have to do with me Mrs. Caldwell?”

She bit her thin lips.

“I love Lucie but there was always a chance Roger wasn’t your biological grandfather and I -”

“Oh no”, I said and started smiling out of shock, “No. Umm...No”

“It’s just . . . if you ever wondered why your daughter looks how she does that could be why. Maybe these things skip generations.  Seeing that little girl just bought it all back for some reason. We didn’t have DNA test back then and the strange thing is she looks just like=”

I kept smiling and motioned for the bartender to bring me my receipt.

“I should go”, I whispered still smiling.

“Clara, don’t think badly of your grandmother. We were all so young and there were so many rules back then.”

“I’ll see you at the party”, I said as if this party was a normal thing I was looking forward to and not some creepy ploy by Rose where she would probably throw a bucket of pigs blood on me.

I shouldn’t have driven home but I did, I grabbed a cup of coffee from a late night café and blasted the John Phillip Sousa playlist I’d made for the seminar. I wasn’t proud of how many times loud music and scalding hot coffee had gotten me home drunk.

Except I wasn’t going home now.

I was going to Château Mercier

+2+

Just as I turned off Monet Drive . . . my music stopped.  I pumped the brake and tapped my phone. It was dead.

“Fuck.”

Clara

I turned thinking I heard my name. I switched the radio on . . . but nothing.

Then a brass heavy jaunty tune blared through the speakers. I tried to turn it off but it didn’t make sense because the entertainment center wasn’t on. Feedback screeched and mixed with the big brass song.

I shook my head and restarted the car. The Range Rover sputtered and clicked. I banged my head against the steering wheel and the music got louder. Then something caught my eye. I tilted my rear view mirror and saw a woman walking down the street? At this time of night? She looked like she was in a voluminous party dress and was there something over her face?

I squinted and something turned in the pit of my stomach. I started the car and it purred to life. I checked my rear view mirror and the woman was still walking toward the car. I gave the car more gas and after a minute I checked the rear view mirror

Clara

She was still there. She was so close and her mouth was open, no the masque she was wearing had an open mouth in a perfect “O”.

Clara

I gripped the wheel and pushed the gas to100 miles. I kept my hand on the gates remote, hoping the system was working today.  As I rounded the corner to the property only one of the gates opened. Fuck.

I checked my rearview mirror

She was still there… and now she was running.

I went up to 180 and barreled through the half open gate. My side mirror went flying and I kept driving until I was in the circular driveway. Instead of puling around back to the garage I grabbed my pepper spray and jumped out the car.

There was no one there. I screamed in frustration and slammed the door shut. I stepped back and the driveway was spinning. I’d had . . . two and half beers and wine. Plus the rum and coke. And the Kirk Royal. Of course I was seeing things.

+3+

I left my guitar in the car and dragged myself up the portico stairs.  I opened the door and took off my heels and tip toed in. My nerves were to shot to fall asleep naturally, so I tucked my shoes under my arm and grabbed a glass of bedtime white wine from the kitchen cooler.

On my way upstairs I saw there was a light on in the drawing room.  I peeked in and saw Mr. Fierro sitting at the small desk in the corner of the drawing room that Rose used for studying. He was scrawling away with a fountain pen using careful strokes.

“What are you doing”, I opened the door.

He stopped and the pen fell onto the desk. He looked down at his hands and he turned to face me.

“Clara, what times is it?”

Before I could answer he looked down at his watch then he picked up the envelope that he’d been writing on. It was addressed to clients from Le Fleur Marche’s list and some names from the foundation’s board.  

“More invitations?” I said, “Are you helping her ? “

“Her?” he asked studying me.

“Rose”, I said,” Why is she sending out more? I’m shredding these. We are getting way to many RSVPs as it is--No more people. This is getting out of hand.”

I tried to remember what country I was in the last time I saw my shredder and instead I tossed the invitations into the fireplace and turned it on. Fierro watched the fire for a few minutes before turning it off.

“Clara. There is something we need to talk—“

“That reminds me”, I interrupted, and “I should tell you Eleanor got an invitation. She’s coming and she’s bringing her grandmother along.”

“Ellie?” He said carefully capping the pen, “Surely Ms. DeLune you understand why she can’t come—“

“I can’t just uninvite her and people have a way of forming their own narratives. She thinks you’re your uncle’s illegimate ancestor and that Addison Fierro is my grandfather—“

He winced a little.

“I’m sorry Ms. DeLune but you will have to uninvited her.”

“I can’t. Besides it’s a masquerade you can just wear a masque the whole time. And to be honest I really like having her and Eleanor around. They remind me of home”

“Ms. DeLune I have made a lot of allowances for you and I’m asking this one time—.What’s in your hand?”

I held up my keys.

“Keys, why?”

“You’re drunk. You drove like this?” He asked taking the keys out of my hand

I took a step back knowing I probably smelled like a bar.

“I just had a beer and a few…” I realized too late I shouldn’t have started the sentence like that.

“Clara you could have hurt someone, you could have been arrested. How can you do such things with all the responsibilities you have, did you even think about Rose?  It’s nearly 3am.”

I bristled, still feeling the chill of whatever had happened in the car. What right did he have to take my keys and tell me what time I could come home. And to bring Rose into this ?

“I can go out, have a drink and still be a decent mother.”

“I think Rose deserves more than a decent mother. Rose is getting older she isn’t oblivious to all of this.  It's as if you don't see that she's going to need someone to be there for her and --”

“Oh”, I said, “Let me guess? You think that someone could be Lucie ? You think a ghost would make a better mother than me?”

“Clara, this is not about you. And if you would like to go there I’d like to remind you that you and Lucie’s situations weren’t so different, but she made sacrifices.”

Are you fucking kidding me? I said to myself.

“And I haven’t?” I said instead, “I lost all of my friends when Rose came along, some who called me a slut behind my back. I lost hours of sleep with all of her tantrums and crying. And now all she does is complain and cost me thousands of dollar in tuition for schools she keeps getting kicked out of. She is so ungrateful after everything I did for her when she got sick. Nothing I ever do is right as far as she's concerned.”

“Clara--”

 "You just don’t see it and that fine. I would love to have a good child who loves me the way Rose loves you. I get it when you become a mother and a wife nothing gets to be about you. You just put your life on hold and ignore everything you want. God, I’ve heard that a million times but sometimes I just want to have a night to myself. To have a nice time, which I did by the way.”

“You were reckless, Ms. DeLune.”, He said entirely uphased by my feelings, “And when you’re reckless others get hurt-“

“I’m not going to stand her and listen to you scold me.”

“Clara I—“, He stopped. His eyes slightly shifted to just over my shoulder and I took that moment to snatch his car keys off the coffee table.  I stormed out to garage walking as fast as I could, nearly slipping on a puddle of freezing cold water. Fucking pipes. I ran to the garage, something about this house made me fee like I couldn't breathe.  I eventually heard Mr. Fierro behind me but I was already pulling out of the garage.

It’s pitch black out and all I can see is red. I want to turn around but I’m to afraid and angry to go back.  I just drive until I have a clear head.  I just need to get faraway from that house. I have no idea where I’m going but the closer I get to the city it suddenly hits me.

He was writing with the wrong hand.

+++

 

Funny how some of you thought Clara’s teacher was male. . .