Chapter 4: Coeur the Cupid & Wheel of Fortune
Mommy, what are they doing?” Coeur Bear asked as she stood at the doorway peering into the bustling kitchen.
One cook was operating the electric mixer beating egg whites to a stiff peak, the second carefully pouring in warm honey that smelled delightfully like the lavender of Provence, while the last cook was handling a large rolling pin, smoothing out this white pasty goodness that was piquing Coeur Bear’s interest.
Cupid picked up her baby bear from off the ground so she could get a better look, who was still clinging onto her security blanket. Cupid replied, “That’s Nougat de Montélimar. It’s candy, made with egg whites, almonds, pistachios and lavender honey. Very yummy,” Cupid smiled. “We’re going to bring some with us to breakfast, and save some for us to enjoy later and the rest we are going to give to friends. Coeur Bear, let’s go get dressed. We are going next door to have breakfast. You can meet my best friend Polly and I want you to meet a little friend for you, too! You can give her this candy as a gift, okay Coeur Bear?”
“Okay!” Coeur Bear said excitedly. The two of them got dressed, left their apartment and made their way down the hall to the only other door on this floor. With a white gift box in one hand, Cupid rang the bell with the other and dropped her eyes to look at Coeur Bear who was so curious which little friend she would be meeting today. Cupid brushed down her black cashmere sweater and black brocade skirt, adjusting the poofy and elegant bow on the front. Coeur Bear looked up at her new mommy in awe and just then, Cupid petted Coeur Bear’s head and reminded her, “I love you, my baby.”
The door swung open, their shared butler, Madame Joly, greeting them on the opposite end. After exchanging pleasantries, Cupid led Coeur Bear to the kitchen where breakfast was being prepared, the smell of bananas wafting through the air. During the time when Polly lived in America, she loved making banana pancakes and brought this tradition with her to Paris.
Without missing a beat, Polly looked up and asked, “Morning sis, do you want chocolate in your pancakes?”
“Hi, Polly! Mm–hmm!”
“Figures,” Polly smiled.
“And Coeur Bear’s, too, please.”
“Coeur Bear!” Polly dropped everything she was doing and stooped down to greet this wondrous, furry little being. “Hello, my name is Polly. You are so cute! Welcome to my home and you are always invited to come here at anytime, okay? I want you to meet a little friend. Her — ” Before Polly was finished speaking, an inquisitive and elated voice called out from behind them.
“Who are you?”
Coeur Bear spun around. Her eyes met, level, with that of Polly’s baby French bulldog who had a sweet pink complexion and a demeanor always ready for novelty, conversation and adventure.
“I’m Coeur Bear. Who are you?”
“I’m Faith,” she proudly declared. The little bear and the little dog studied each other and almost immediately, ended up bonding on the alcove bench in the kitchen, between them the opened box of Nougat de Montélimar, wrappers all abound. Polly served up tall stacks of banana pancakes while Cupid made almond milk café latte for her and Polly and orange juice for Coeur Bear and Faith. As they all gathered at the round kitchen table, Coeur Bear and Faith were having their own spirited conversation while Polly and Cupid got lost in their own world, too.
“Sis, are you okay? Luc is really gone?
“Yes, he left this morning for the diplomatic mission in Quebec City. It’s fine. I know he’s not my soul mate.” Polly took a bite of her pancakes and wondered out loud, “Who is my soul mate, anyway? Where is he?”
“Mmm…mm–mmm paper,” Cupid mumbled as she worked through a mouth full of pancakes.
“Angel Paper, yes!” Polly reached into Cupid’s little clutch and pulled out a fresh sheet. Cupid waved her sapphire ring over the Angel Paper and at once, a drawing of a peculiar contraption appeared.
“What is that, Polly?”
“Hmm. It looks like a radio! I wonder what that means…Oh, YES, I know exactly what it means!” Polly exclaimed. “I’m supposed to sing! I’m supposed to just sing and he will find me! Yes, that’s what I’m hearing! I’m going to do that as soon as we’re done with breakfast. Ooh, I’m so excited.”
“That’s fantastic! Oh sis, I can’t wait till you meet him!”
“Me, too! And those two are going to get along just fine,” Polly remarked at Coeur Bear and Faith, who seemed to have become instant best friends.
As Cupid enjoyed her breakfast, she noticed the exquisite china set that Polly selected for their meal, never having seen it before. The rims of the round plates were lined with gold trim on the perimeter and inside it, intricate, tiny little heart–shaped butterflies. Laser engraved at the bottom of the plate were the words, “100e Anniversaire — Coeur de la Fleur.” Besides the appearance of her name, which was assigned to her by the ancestors back in Teacup Star System where she came from — and specifically, by her particular lineage, the True Love lineage — the design was simply breathtaking to Cupid and was somehow speaking to her.
“Polly, what’s Coeur de la Fleur?” she asked.
“That’s the hotel owned by Monsieur Donatien Nellie. He’s the one who gave me my start in my singing career! He used to own the Peppermint Majestic Theatre in Sydney where I lived ten years ago. But actually, I met him in L.A. He saw me perform on a talk show on TV. Then he found me and told me he was bringing Evita to Sydney and asked me if I would move there and play Eva Perón — and of course, I said yes! Anyway, this china came from him. Last year his hotel celebrated their one hundredth anniversary and there was a big charity gala and I even got to sing to our President,” Polly beamed.
“Sis, you’ve lived such a glamorous life,” Cupid remarked, listening to Polly intently with her fists holding up her cheeks, her gaze twinkling like stars. After they finished breakfast, Cœur Bear stayed to play with Faith under the care of Madame Joly, while Polly went to her studio to sing. Cupid was a busy bee, packing up boxes of Nougat de Montélimar to deliver to her friends. After distributing treats to all the nice people she has met since arriving in Paris a few short months ago, Cupid was engaged in typical Parisian flâner at the 1er arrondissement of Paris. At a very precise moment, Cupid felt compelled to look up, immediately gasping at the sight of a sophisticated, grand façade of a majestic, sprawling building. As Cupid read the words on the black and white butterfly–shaped awnings, there was that same lettering she saw this morning on Polly’s china: Coeur de la Fleur.
The curiosity of Cupid took over her senses at the sight of this regal hotel. She turned up the path and entered through the thick black metal arch, stepped her boots onto the red carpet and was instantly transported into a magical universe. As she looked to her left, a busy restaurant was serving steak tartare, quiche Lorraine, escargots and soupe a l’oignon gratinée to well–dressed professionals and society ladies dining under thin, white linen tents and pink paper lanterns. Up the concrete steps Cupid went, graciously greeted by a pair of uniformed and white–gloved doormen, one on each side of the entrance. Cupid lifted her head high up, in awe of the butterfly and flower–adorned dome ceiling that seemed to have time–warped her into a fairy tale.
Disorder, however, broke Cupid’s concentration when all of a sudden, screams and panic penetrated through the air. Laying inanimate on the cool marble floor was an old gentleman, rather petite, and although frail–looking, was impeccably dressed in pressed trousers, a crisp white shirt, a tightly fitted silk jacket and a wooden and gold leaf cane, which laid like a dutiful companion by his side.
Immediately, Cupid rushed to his side, dropped to her knees and reached into her little clutch for her set of crystals, carefully placing the stones on his head, forehead, throat, heart and three more on his belly. After she finished this chakratic arrangement, Cupid spoke a command to her ring and waved the jewel across the gentleman’s body. After a few seconds, his eyes eased open and he awoke, regaining his consciousness. Cupid collected her crystals and dropped them back into her bag while she helped the gentleman from off the floor. As Cupid handed him his cane, he spoke to her with a robust and clear voice, seemingly recovering all of his energy. “Thank you, angel,” he said. “Come, we are late.” The gentleman took Cupid’s hand and wrapped it around his arm for support while he indefatigably marched toward the opposite wing of the hotel, hobbling along as quickly and as positively as he could. Cupid, however, sensed a major disturbance was awaiting the two of them.
They turned the corner to the right and proceeded through the double doors marked “For hotel management only.” At last, they arrived at a thick ebony door and without knocking, the gentleman turned the knob and the both of them stepped inside. Straight away, Cupid’s eyes widened, finding herself standing in the middle of a tension–filled boardroom, every seat occupied except for two, all taken by men.
“Monsieur Nellie, it is three o’clock and a quarter,” a salt and pepper–haired man in a cantankerous manner said bitingly to the old man.
“My apologies to everyone. I had a little interruption on my way here, but everything is fine now. We can commence this meeting.” Monsieur Nellie motioned to Cupid to take the empty chair next to his at the head of the table. Cupid sat down gingerly as she swept her eyes across the chilling boardroom, the only woman present, anxious over what was about to unfold. The divisiveness in the air was so palpable that Cupid’s belly started to churn. She looked over to her left at the old man, whose right hand was resting on his lap underneath the table, visibly shaking.
A tall and lanky man wearing thin–rimmed black glasses and a checkered gray suit stood up. In a most dreary monotone, he announced the following to the room: “Monsieur Chairman Nellie, fellow members: we hereby declare that our Shareholders Council votes 50 to 20 in favor of selling this hotel, Coeur de la Fleur, to Victor Dragon. We assume, Monsieur Chairman, your thirty votes are a nay vote (and Monsieur Nellie tipped his head), and as we have now reached a tie, 50 to 50, we shall proceed to arbitration dispute scheduled for 9am tomorrow. In the event a resolution is not reached by the end of the day, the Shareholders Council shall appoint and approve of an outside nonpartisan member to break the tie, whose vote shall be final and binding. God speed to all. This meeting is adjourned.”
All ten shareholders arose from their seats and filed out the door, irate by the results of today’s vote. Monsieur Donatien Nellie remained in his chair and when the room emptied, Cupid leaned close to the old man and upon closer inspection, saw his face visibly wrought to the point of tears.
“Monsieur Nellie, I am very sorry you are in this situation. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
He sobbed quietly and then looked up at Cupid. “Do you have €20 million?”
“All I need is €20 million to save this hotel. One of my shareholders is willing to sell his one percent back to me. Already I’ve sold my home, all my assets, poured in my life savings, and I am €20 million short. That is all I need to save my hotel from ending up in the hands of Victor Dragon, at best, an adversary, and at worst, a saboteur, an assassin, a defiler of my flower, this hotel. I have worked all my life in this hotel, since I was 13 years old. My father left this to me when he died. Fifteen years ago this hotel was on the brink of bankruptcy. To preserve my family’s legacy, I had to dump many of my shares so I could raise money to keep these doors open. The shares kept changing owners and now they have fallen into the hands of the wrongdoing. They will surely appoint another Dragon supporter to break the tie tomorrow. My empire is finished.”
Cupid took a moment to fully take in this news. From her little clutch, she pulled out a delicately embroidered handkerchief and nudged it into the palm of Monsieur Nellie, who held it with gratitude and began dabbing his eyes.
He continued, “All I wanted to do was to preserve my family and my wife’s legacy and pass this hotel down to my son. But terribly, terribly…” The old man had trouble carrying on his story but he didn’t have to — Cupid already knew. Last year, his son and his entire family was forced to enter into the witness protection program in America, ripping all of Monsieur Nellie’s loved ones away from him. What a predicament, Cupid thought to herself.
Monsieur Nellie once again looked up and met Cupid’s eyes, his gaze shaky but bright. “Madame, what is your name? Please forgive my rudeness. You have done nothing but save my life, witness my pain and listen to my troubles and I haven’t bothered to ask how to greet you.”
“It is perfectly alright, Monsieur. My name is Coeur.”
He began to weep again. “That was my pet name for my wife. I called her this name because she was the heart of my life, my soul. After she died, I changed the name of this hotel in her honor. Oh, how she loved flowers and butterflies of all kinds, especially cherry blossoms. That is why I installed a cherry blossom garden in the courtyard. In her memory,” Monsieur Nellie smiled wistfully. “My dear Coeur, are you a guest at this hotel?”
“No, I am not.”
“Well how did you end up here today, and I must say, at the right time!”
“It was not an accident, or perchance it was,” Cupid replied. “This morning, I was enjoying breakfast with my best friend and happened to notice this particular beautiful china we were using from your hotel’s 100th anniversary,” Cupid explained.
“Your friend must be an important dignitary to have attended our celebration.”
“She is very important. Her name is Polly Moonbright.”
“Madame Moonbright? She is your friend?” The corner of Monsieur Nellie’s lips curled up into a charming smile and he sat up, revived by the mention of Polly.
“Yes, and she is my next door neighbour as well. She shared with me the story of how you two met. It is quite a memory she told me.”
“Yes, that little firecracker with the voice. I always knew she would make something of herself. How is she now?”
“She’s wonderful. And I know she will want to help you. I will discuss this with her immediately. She can perhaps help us locate this money that you need by tomorrow.”
Monsieur Nellie’s eyes glistened with a new batch of tears, emotional and grateful for the assistance. “If you and Polly would fight on my behalf, it would mean so much to me. I am all alone and I have no loved ones by my side. I gave my life to this hotel. But you must know, Coeur, that I am riddled with maladies and I don’t know how much fight is left in me. But I do know one thing — until the day I die, I vow to preserve my wife’s memory. I must ensure it does not get stolen or defiled as long as I am alive.”
“Monsieur Nellie, I promise to do whatever I can to help you and I give you my word. Please leave it to me and allow yourself an evening of rest and ease.”
Monsieur Nellie patted Cupid’s hand and she helped him rise from his seat, to escort him back into his suite on the fifth floor of the hotel. As they walked through the lobby, Monsieur Nellie gestured to a hotel attendant who disappeared into the back room and then promptly returned a silver platter, presenting it to Cupid. Monsieur Nellie explained, “This is our most famous candy, Nougat de Montélimar, Coeur, my wife’s favorite. That’s how she and I met. At the candy factory,” Monsieur Nellie recalled, a sparkle appearing in his eyes. Cupid graciously accepted the candy, noting the synchronicity throughout her entire experience at this hotel.
After they departed, curious as she always was, Cupid took herself to explore every corner of this majestic property, from the courtyard to the pool, to the restaurants, to the Butterfly Sanctuary, to the Museum of the Music Boxes of the World to the cherry blossom garden, to the ballrooms, and finally to the maison of Christian Dior proudly positioned in the hotel’s prominent west wing. Utterly dazzled and flabbergasted by the dripping luxury, history, romance and imagination of this €2 billion palatial estate, Cupid could understand the distress, sadness and loss Monsieur Donatien Nellie would suffer if it fell into the vicious hands of Victor Dragon.
The sun was beginning to set as Cupid exited the front door of the hotel but deeply lost in thought was she. Pulling on her leather gloves, Cupid walked slowly down the avenue staring at the sidewalk as if the answer would magically be inscribed on the pavement somehow. Feeling a tad bit hopeless, Cupid was afraid to consult with her Angel Paper, for fear the answer revealed would be an unfavorable and unwanted outcome for Monsieur Nellie. After climbing into her car with her driver Gabriel, Cupid relented, pulling out a crisp sheet of Angel Paper from her little bag. At once, the image shown was a slab of gray stone. Underneath the image appeared the words “As within, so without.” The clues bewildered Cupid. Does it mean demolishment? Will the hotel be taken away from Monsieur Nellie? Is it all over? She had no idea.
On the way home, the two encountered traffic from what Cupid learned was called “rush hour” on Earth. Lost in thought, Cupid slouched down on the leather car seat and half–heartedly stared out the window. Centimeter by centimeter, the glass pyramid standing before Musée du Louvre appeared before her. She almost didn’t see it until the setting sun caught a particular angle of the pyramid and kissed Cupid’s eyes, waking her up from intense daydreaming. At once, a thousand fireworks exploded inside Cupid’s head and she sprang to life.
“Gabriel, I must get off here. Please find a place to wait for me or circle around!” Cupid dashed out of the car and darted across the vast grounds of the Louvre, so excited that she almost didn’t feel the cold winter air freezing her little cheeks into place. She ran and ran, as fast as one could while wearing boots, but that would be no excuse to slow her down. The wind lifted her, the sun illuminated her, the cold air vivified her, and she felt like she was flying toward her just awoken dreams. “It is not set in stone,” Cupid recited in her head, decoding the image of the rock slab that appeared on her Angel Paper. “There is still hope. There is still a chance. It is not set in stone!” Cupid exclaimed to herself.
Cupid reached the entrance of the Louvre and spoke a command to her ring, activating an obscurity bubble around her so that the horde of tourists, and in particular the guards, wouldn’t notice her. She quickly made her way through and hurried toward the jewelry exhibit. As she stood at the center of the spacious room, Cupid spun herself around 360 degrees, in search of what she came to retrieve. Off in the distance, she spotted the yellow diamond–encrusted egg, the precious Fabergé creation gifted to her by Alexander, the handsome stranger she assisted at the Christmas Eve Masquerade. Cupid rushed to the glass case to get a better look and immediately breathed a sigh of relief upon reading the gold plaque at the foot of the glass case. It spelled, “Belonging to Coeur, the angel.”
“I must find Alexander,” Cupid said to herself and pulled out a brand new sheet of Angel Paper. What she expected to be shown was a map of Paris, perhaps even of the world, to help her locate the whereabouts of this wealthy heir. But what Cupid saw was her own reflection, and then in the corner of the frame, the outline of Alexander’s handsome face appeared. Cupid looked up from her Angel Paper, turned around and indeed, Alexander was standing before her, grinning widely from cheek to cheek. The charming individual that he was, he swept Cupid into his arms for a deliberately extra long la bise.
“Angel, I found you again. This time I won’t let you get away.”
“Alexander, there is something very important that I need your help with. Urgently.”
“What is it? I will do anything to help you.”
“I need this egg. To save a life. Please, may I have it? It is not for me. It is for a friend who — ”
“My darling angel, the egg is yours. Please do what you wish with it.”
“Alexander, this egg, I shall need it by tomorrow morning. Is that possible?”
“When and where do you need it?”
“Tomorrow morning, 9am sharp, delivered to Hôtel Coeur de la Fleur, care of Monsieur Donatien Nellie.”
After noting the information, Alexander peered at Cupid and asked, “Are you going to be there tomorrow morning?”
With a sweet smile, Cupid replied, “Yes. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Then I shall see you tomorrow, angel. Leave it to me. I will take care of it.”
“Thank you, Alexander!”
Cupid exited the Louvre and phoned Monsieur Nellie on her way home. The old man couldn’t believe the miracle that struck his life at a time when he needed it most. As Cupid arrived home, she retrieved Coeur Bear from Polly’s apartment and recounted to her best friend everything that happened this day.
The following morning, Cupid and Polly arrived early at the hotel — 7am — to have breakfast with Monsieur Nellie in his exquisitely designed penthouse suite. After nearly two hours went by, the three of them made their way down, collecting Monsieur Nellie’s lawyer from the lobby. Then appeared Alexander, holding a black box, coming through the entrance with two armed guards sternly and cautiously trailing behind him. More hotel security guards guided them to the boardroom while Monsieur Nellie, Cupid and Polly followed behind them. At 9am sharp, they pushed open the ebony door finding all the shareholders already in their chairs, ready to battle out this arbitration.
The lanky man who delivered the voting results yesterday stood up and approached the seat at the head of the table, ready to start the day’s proceedings.
“Just a minute,” Monsieur Nellie waved his hand at him, motioning for the man to return to his seat. Monsieur Nellie reached inside his shirt pocket to retrieve his fountain pen. His lawyer then placed two sets of documents before him, plus another set off to the side on the expansive ebony table. Monsieur Nellie placed his cane on the tabletop in dominating showmanship fashion, unscrewed the pen cap and pressing ink onto paper, gave his signature twice. After doing so, he asked a certain shareholder, Monsieur François Noel, to approach the head of the table where Monsieur Nellie presented one copy of the signed document to him. Monsieur Nellie nodded his head at Alexander, who then set down the black box onto the ebony table and then slowly lifted its cover, unveiling the €20 million Fabergé egg carefully nestled in a bed of velvet plush protection. Monsieur Noel nodded his head in approval to Monsieur Nellie and the group at the head of the table heaved a collective sigh of relief. Monsieur Nellie had just rightfully purchased this shareholder’s stock — one percent of the company in exchange for this egg — to change the vote to 51 to 49, not in favour of selling the precious dame Coeur de la Fleur to Victor Dragon.
The antagonistic shareholders bemoaned their defeat and retreated with hostility, filing out the door with squeezed fists. The room cleared, leaving only Cupid, Polly and Monsieur Nellie inside.
“I am so relieved,” Monsieur Nellie expressed, finally sitting down into his plush leather chair. “Angel, you saved this hotel. You saved my life. I am so thankful to you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Monsieur Nellie. I am very happy you were able to reclaim this treasure and preserve your wife’s memory. She is dancing right now.”
“Yes, to dance, that is her favorite thing to do! Please, ladies, sit.”
After Cupid and Polly took their seats, Monsieur Nellie continued, “Angel, there is one more document I need to sign.” With that, he pulled out his black fountain pen once again, unscrewed the cap and slid the third set of documents from across the table to lay in front of him. He signed his name slowly and peacefully, then pushed the set of papers to Cupid. “With my signature, angel, you are now the owner of Coeur de la Fleur. I have spoken to the three other shareholders who have all agreed to give up their voting rights to me and whoever I sell to, irrevocably, which I shall now fully transfer to you. With the one percent share you purchased today with your egg, this money that you so freely gave to me without asking me for anything in return — I shall now freely give to you my entire fortune. With fifty–one percent of the votes, plus thirty–one percent of the shares, you are now in control of this hotel. You have shown me your heart and true character and I have absolute trust this is the right thing for me to do. It is yours, Coeur. Please, take it.”
“Monsieur Nellie, no, I cannot — ”
“But yes you can, angel. I freely turn this hotel to your safe keeping. With your permission, I shall live out my years here, finally enjoying my life as a guest, which will make me very, very fulfilled. It goes without saying that I will assist you with anything you need. I know you want this hotel, seeing how you have come to its rescue. You have earned this.”
“Monsieur Nellie…” Cupid’s angelic face was in shock, her eyes wide opened and her lips pulled back, questioning if she was good enough to be in this role.
“My final gift to you, angel, which I shall attempt to carry out in my remaining years, is to help you wrestle the other forty nine percent of the shares from the supporters of Victor Dragon. It may be difficult, but because both of our hearts are true, somehow I feel that our path will be blessed.” Monsieur Nellie held both of Cupid’s hands as more tears rushed down her cheeks. Polly rubbed Cupid’s back as she cried.
“Monsieur Nellie, what if I fail? What if I disappoint you? What if I lose everything? I will be so ashamed if I brought misfortune into your name and family history.”
“Well then, angel, the rest is up to you. What if you fail? I certainly have. What if you lose everything? I nearly did, too. No matter what happens, you will never disappoint me. Give it a try. Nothing is set in stone. If you don’t like it, sell it. Hire everyone you need to help you. Or hand it over to someone you trust. It’s not all on your shoulders, angel. I did not leave you with a burden. I am gifting you with an empire — this nougat candy factory,*” he smiled, making Cupid cry and gush with giggles at the same time.
“Okay,” Cupid mumbled as she brushed away her tears, remembering the image of the stone appearing yesterday on her Angel Paper. “Monsieur Nellie, thank you for this gift. I shall cherish it and nurture it with my life.”
“You’ve shown me that you already do,” he smiled, the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes meeting together. “Take the rest of the year off,” he said, making both Cupid and Polly laugh, for it was already the 29th of December. “Then on Monday, the first business day of the new year, we shall begin a new adventure.”
“Thank you, Monsieur Nellie. I accept this proudly with honor.”
After saying goodbye to him, Cupid and Polly celebrated by dining in the hotel restaurant overlooking the romantic cherry blossom garden, which in a few months will return to its full bloom. The girls feasted on champagne and French Mediterranean fare while Polly continued telling Cupid her wild and adventurous stories of the past. Cupid felt so safe and secure in the comfort of her sister’s presence and knew that with Polly by her side, everything will be okay. Just when they were about to dive into the chocolate course, the muzak in the hotel restaurant mysteriously began to crackle and pop, producing a strange cacophony of static, followed by a few seconds of silence. And then, as if by magic, a clear, beautiful voice billowed out through the airwaves and it was no mistake that this voice belonged to none other than Polly Moonbright.
She sang, “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high. There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true…”
Wide–eyed, the girls were stupefied with grand amazement while Cupid’s spoon of chocolate mousse was still inside her mouth. Upon hearing Polly’s lyrics, in a flash, everything hit her. “As within, so without” — from the Nougat de Montélimar being made in her home kitchen, to it being made at the hotel; From being named Coeur, to now owning a building bearing the same name; From Polly bringing out her voice from within and then without into the world — it all made sense now.
As Polly’s voice faded away, the original muzak returned. Cupid observed the restaurant, knowing the other patrons were so engaged in conversation that they probably did not notice the change of music, did not hear it, or perhaps credited the mishap to a technical error, but Cupid and Polly both knew — and squealed to each other — that the radio revealed on the Angel Paper yesterday morning was no coincidence at all. Not everyone is tuned into Polly’s soulmating call, but the right people on her path — and that one right person — will, and he will be blessed for it.
Cupid and Polly gabbed all the way home, played with Coeur Bear and Faith, polished off the rest of the candy, listened to music and put on the finishing touches to their haute couture ball gowns, ready for Saturday, a highly anticipated and spectacular New Year’s Eve in Paris.
A special thank you to Willy Wonka