“What year is it?” I asked.

“Just the new year,” August said. He went to the door and flipped the ‘Open’ sign on the window to ‘Closed.’ “It’s been four months since you left.”

Four months, I thought, leaning back in my chair. I sighed in relief. “I thought it had been much longer.”

“I thought we’d never see you again.” Mother said, holding my hands tightly. “When you left, I—” She sniffed hard. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“Mother said something about a stone horse in the snow and that you left. What happened?” August asked, sitting down beside us.

I took a deep breath. “I thought that you’d be better off without me.”

“What?” Mother exclaimed.

“August could handle finances. Connie had his carpentry. Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was paint. What good was that going to do for us? And when Mother was going to be taken away because of something she took for me…” I looked down in shame. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing that. So, I left in her place.”

August’s stoic expression flickered with regret. Mother touched my cheek.

Months of suppressed shame came rushing to the surface. “I was useless. I wasn’t worth anything.”

Mother gently touched my cheek. “Why would you ever think that?”

“I’m sorry for everything. I was foolish and selfish.” My throat bobbed. I imagined the Maer would’ve enjoyed hearing this. “I hurt all of you.”

“But you’re here.” Mother pulled me into another hug. “You’ve come home. That’s all that matters.”

That did it. The tears came flowing in silent rivers down my cheeks. I buried my face in her shoulder. She held me close and gently stroked my hair. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I forgive you.” Mother said. She kissed me on the head. “I love you.”

“We’re glad you’re home,” August added, rubbing my shoulder.

I took several deep breaths and finally calmed myself. It was nice to finally be home.

Since August had closed the store early, we decided to take the rest of the day off together. We stopped by Connie’s place of work to let him know the good news. The minute he saw me, he ran and scooped me into a big bear hug. He threw me this way and that, resembling a big joyful dog. Connie’s boss, an old man who had run the carpentry shop for his entire life, proved to be sympathetic and gave my brother the next two days off. Business was slow, so they could afford to be down their model employee.

The Dufresne clan was reunited. I never thought I would see them again, but here we were. It was a wonderful feeling.

“I couldn’t believe that you just disappeared on us like that!” Connie exclaimed, rubbing my hair. “The day after you left, a lockbox full of gold just showed up out of the blue.”

August nodded. “It was enough for us to move out of the cottage and feed ourselves for a year if my math was right. After that, we received a shipment of gold every week. The Beast kept her word, it seemed.”

“And I was able to finally get the trading business back on track. When the money started coming in again, the payments slowed to every two weeks. Now we have enough money saved that we’ll never have to worry about going hungry ever again.” Mother added.

“That’s wonderful!” I said. She kept her word, I thought, smiling to myself.

“I became an official partner to the carpentry shop!” Connie said proudly. “With the extra money, we could hire more help and better tools, so no more late nights with me and the old man.”

“And I managed to square off any remaining debt, with your brother’s help of course.” Mother placed a hand on August’s shoulder. “We’ve finally gotten back our old lives, in a manner.”

“Wait until you see our new home.” Connie nudged me.

“I have. It’s very nice.” I assured him.

Connie stared at me. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a long story.” I quickly deflected.

We passed by Duke’s Bakery on our walk. I broke away and walked inside after telling them I’d only be a minute. Like the cottage, the bakery had barely changed since I left. There was no snow on the floor. I felt Doux wriggling around in my pocket. I imagined he could smell the pastries or was remembering his brush with death here. I patted my pocket to calm him.

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I looked over the counter. A small basket of fresh buns sat to one end. I smelled the aromas in the air. I felt something like nostalgia. I found it funny considering how I left this place.

Duke suddenly appeared from the back, rubbing flour from his hands onto his apron. “Ah sorry about that, sir! What can I help—” His eyes widened. “Mauris.”

There he is, I thought. “Marius.” I corrected and faked a smile. “Good to see you, Duke.”

Duke shook his head. “Right. I threw you out last time we met.” He looked up and down. “You’ve moved up, considering your attire.”

“You could say that.” I glanced around the bakery. “The place is very clean.”

“Turns out the other baker and Genny do just fine with sweeping the floors. I didn’t your extra help after all.” Duke laughed.

“Of course you didn’t,” I remarked. I craned my neck to see beyond the counter. “Where’s Genny?”

“It’s Dimanche. I got someone else working the oven.”

I nodded slowly. “I see.”

“Well, you going to buy something or what? I got a bakery to run.”

“No, thank you. I’ll check in tomorrow.” I bowed slightly.

Duke shrugged and wordlessly waved before heading back into the kitchen.

I left the bakery and rejoined my family in the street.

“What happened in there? Unfinished business?” Mother asked.

“You could say that,” I said. I took one last look at the bakery as we joined the morning crowds.

Our house was exactly as I dreamt it: Large, spacious, beautiful, clean. As I walked through the various rooms, I touched every inch of the furniture and walls. I’m sure my family looked at me like I was mad. But only one thought floated through my head: this is all real. I’m here. Never in my life could the phrase “dreams coming true” have been so literal.

With the new money, Mother had taken to hiring servants to cook and clean. They were out now, but there was some food left over in the pantry for Connie to put together a quick meal. It was simple eating: just tomato soup and small sandwiches. There was no need for anything exquisite.

Everyone was so absorbed in catching up and filling me in with how their sudden change of fortunes had affected their lives. When the money first arrived, Mother was reticent to use it at all. Blood money, she called it. But eventually, she relented.

“I figured living on and missing you was preferable to starvation.” Mother added.

“She wouldn’t let anyone touch the first lockbox for a week, so imagine our surprise when another one appeared at our doorstep!” August exclaimed. “The fact they were filled with gold was a relief.”

“Genny started visiting us after you left,” Connie said as he rubbed my shoulder. “She stops by when she has the chance.”

My eyes lit up. “Could she come today?”

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door.

“That could be her.” Mother said.

“I’ll get it.” August started from his chair.

“You, sit. This is my job.” Connie pointed a mock-commanding finger at August before heading to the door.

The door opened. In came Genny. She was dressed in a simple light dress with a scarf around her head. She carried a small, covered basket that smelled delicious. Her face lit up when she saw me. “Marius!” She set down the basket and ran to me. We embraced, and she held me close. “Oh, goodness, I can’t believe you’re home! Where have you been? They told me you were taken by something.”

This had to happen eventually, I thought. I broke our embrace and sat down at the table. “I think I should tell you all about where I’ve been.”

The room suddenly felt cold. My family and guest’s faces grew solemn.

“Let’s hear it then,” Connie said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Everyone took their seats and turned their eyes to me. I took a breath and prepared myself.

It all came back to me in perfect, crystal-clear detail. It was as if I was viewing all again: From the moment I first got onto the horse to when I left Faustine in the snow. I told them of the manor and its brooding halls; the uncanny but welcoming presence of the servants, specifically Finley and Etienne; the strange story of the Moon and the blue roses, the eternal winter’s night. I left out details like the Maer, but that didn’t seem too much of an omission to me. That was a bit too personal to get into considering the present company.

“And what of the Beast?” Mother said, steepling her fingers. Her expression was grave. A flicker of anger burned behind her eyes.

“Not at all what you’d think,” I said. “Not what I was expecting.”

“What’s to expect? It was holding you captive.” August said.

“She was.” I corrected him. “But she took care of me, fed me, gave me a place to paint. I was her guest.”

“She took you from us, Marius.” Mother said coldly. “From me.”

“I went willingly,” I remarked firmly. “But she wasn’t terrible. She was just… misunderstood. Lonely. She’d been abandoned by her family years ago. The more I learned about her, the less frightening she became.”

“If she was so good to you, why did you leave?” Mother asked.

“She lied to me.” The words were like a murder confession. Hearing it spoken aloud only made the wound sting. “There was no reason for me to be there other than she was lonely and wanted a companion. When I learned the truth, she let me come home.” I spread my arms. “So here I am.”

Everyone sat in silence, pondering my story. I knew it all sounded absurd. But what else could I tell besides the truth?

“All of that time and she could’ve let you go?” August scoffed. “Seems selfish if you ask me.”

“If I were cooped up in a big empty house for God knows how long, I’d crack too.” Connie shrugged. “I still can’t get over those servants, though. And a giant stone horse? It’s all so fantastic and absurd…”

“It appears this Beast treated you well.” Mother said. “But I should’ve surmised she had other motives.”

“It’s not what you think!” I suddenly interjected. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of monster.”

Everyone’s eyes suddenly fell on me. I felt judgment in the air. I shrank back in my seat.

“Isn’t she?” Mother asked.

My last words with her surfaced in my mind: Was any of it real? And her response: It doesn’t matter, just go. It was only this morning, or night. But the pain was still fresh. I thought she was my friend, maybe more. The truth of what she’d done to me, to us, and that she knew the whole time…

“I’m not sure,” I murmured.