I had never planned to be a rich lady, but that didn't turn out to be a problem. In addition to being a good adviser, Marty Sachs became a trusted friend and hooked me up with some people who set up a trust where I could park my 'riches'. All I knew or cared was that I was now free to decide what to do with the next chapter of my life. I did take a few weeks to relax and reflect at a very isolated beachfront resort on a private tropical island. That was the only 'rich lady' thing I've yet done. There were a few bungalows and occasionally I'd catch glimpses of my “neighbors”. It was like living on the front page of a tabloid. Everyone I met was a reclusive celebrity or controversial mogul. I was determined not to gawk, since they were obviously here for the same solitude I sought. So it came as a surprise when, one of the celebutantes approached ME.

“Excuse me,” she said with her obviously mortified recent leading man on her arm. “I really hate to disturb you, I know how much it pisses ME off... but I just had to ask. Ethan says I'm crazy and what are the odds, but I'm convinced it IS you. Am I right?”

“Is it me? Last time I looked. In fact every time I've looked, I've been me. At least for the past few years” I smiled a little Mona Lisa halfsmile.

“See! I told you it was her!”

I looked at the guy.... “Who exactly does she think I am?” He smiled.

“See. I told you.” He nudged her very bony ribcage.

“Of course it's her. They don't let just anybody on this island. Hell, most people don't even know this place exists. How did she get here?”

“Oh, the usual way.” I smiled. “Cab. Plane. Watertaxi.”

“Excuse us miss. We didn't mean to disturb you. Kara just thinks everyone she meets is more famous than she is. I have no doubt that one of these days she's going to defect to the darkside and become the first celebrity paparazzo.” He was charming. And funny. I could see what she saw in him.

“It might help if you let me know exactly WHO you think I am?”

“Her! The girl from the internet.”

“Last time I checked, there were lots of girls on the internet. For all I know, every female on the planet is somewhere on the internet.”

“Don't I know it! No. You're the one from the blog everyone's buzzing about.”

“It would help if you could give me a name”

“You don't have a name! You're a mystery. That's part of the buzz!”

“I certainly DO have a name. Always have. No I meant the name of the blog.”

“Oh. Girl meets world.”

“Luc!” I broke out in a grin. He finally did it.

“Yeah. Luc Brossard. You KNOW him?” Kara asked.

“Of course she knows him stupid. She's his muse!” he snapped.

“His MUSE?” I smirked. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“It is you. Right?” Ethan asked. I nodded.

“That was ages ago. One unforgettable summer. I didn't know he finally published it.”

“Oh yeah. It's HOT. You're hot! The book, the website, the videos. Say... that deodorant ad with the motorcycle... was that really you?”

“They let him use that? I knew he wanted it, but never thought he'd get it.”

“Oh yeah. There was a whole interview with the director....”

“...Jerry....”

“...yeah. Saying you were brought on for stunts and he thought the agency was nuts because the girl they cast for on camera was less hot that the one they hid under the helmet. And how he tried to work with you again, but no one knew how to find you until the blog. Now that Brossard guy says he can't help because he can't find you either. He says he never even knew your name. Is that possible?”

“Oh. He knows my name. ….and he definitely has my number” I smiled. “..always did. I guess it's my fault. I told him I'd help him, but wanted to remain anonymous. I had my reasons at the time. Mainly I didn't want to steal focus from his work.”

“But you ARE the focus of his work.”

“Hm. That was unexpected. So I'm a mystery, eh?”

“You are THE mystery. Everyone's trying to find you. Is that why you're hiding here?”

“No. Surprisingly. I'm here trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“With all the heat on your blog, I'd say anything – and everything you want!” Kara chirped.

“We are being so rude... I'm Ethan. Ethan Dale. And this is Kara. Kara Kendrick.”

“I know. I'm not from another planet. Pleased to meet you.”

“And YOU are?.....”

I smiled and hesitated just long enough to make them wonder if they were finally going to get their answer.

“Alexandra. Alexandra Crowe.” Hell, if I was a celebrity now, Alexandra sounds much more swank than Alison.

“Alexandra...” Ethan replied. “A real pleasure to meet you Alexandra. Honey, let's get a selfie with our new friend Alexandra Crowe!” Suddenly I was the slice of cheese in a celebrity sandwich, and I knew the rollercoaster of my life had just clanked to the top of another peak.

When I got off the plane back home and turned my mobile back on, I had four messages, all from the same California number. I didn't have to guess too hard who it was.

“Studio Brossard. How may I direct your call?”

“Luc Brossard s'il vous plait” I replied.

“Um. Excusez moi. Q'est ce que... I mean Comment....”

“I speak English ...if that is easier” I said still with a thick French accent.

“Oh yes. Thank you! Um Mr Brossard is not available at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Yes. I'd like to arrange a private shoot with Monsieur Brossard. Something ...discreet.”

“Mr Brossard is very busy, but I can direct you to one of his talented associates.”

“No. It must be Monsieur Brossard. Or I'll be forced to go elsewhere.” I was beginning to enjoy torturing this poor girl.

“Well, Monsieur Brossard is in great demand and will not be able to take your photograph.”

“Why don't you let Monsieur Brossard decide that, and get back to me.”

“Very well, but I wouldn't plan on it. May I have your name and a callback number?”

“Yes. My name is Alexandra Crowe, and my num..”

“Alexandra CROWE??? No shit!”

“Yes, shit.” Who knew it was so much fun cursing with a preposterous foreign accent? “Most definitely shit. My number is...”

“ONE MOMENT PLEASE!” click. Smile.

“OK, who is this really?”

“Is this really the famous Luc Brossard? Photographer of supermodels, celebrities and nameless waifs?” I kept the ludicrous accent.

“Sylvie! If you put one of your friends up to this I'll.....”

“If you didn't want to talk to me, why did you call me four times?”

“Shit! Allie?”

“Great talking to you too lover. So, I'm a mystery woman?”

“I thought that's how you wanted it? Anyway, you're a mystery no more. But what's with 'Alexandra'?”

“Ah. I was just messing with a couple of kids on the beach. Alexandra sounded more ...exotic.”

“Those weren't just a couple of kids on the beach. That's America's teenage heartthrobs. Hell, not just the states, most of the developed world.”

“That would explain why they were hiding in the underdeveloped world”

“Their celebrity selfie blew up instagram, and since then they've been making the rounds talking about their encounter with the “mystery muse” where you told them I had your number. I haven't gotten a moment's peace.”

“Mon cher, tu eu ma numéro toujours!” I made Luc chortle. I never heard him chortle. I liked it.

“It's so nice to know you still speak French. I swear people come up to me speaking English with a horrible French accent and think they're speaking French.” Now it was my turn to laugh.

“So you've been busy?”

“Crazy busy. First our project finished far better than I had ever dared dream. Then it just blew up online, and you became this celebrity enigma.... which I milked for all it was worth.”

“Bien sur.”

“Then people started coming out of everywhere to get a piece of the action. That deodorant company posted the footage, including raw footage of you putting on the helmet before the stunt, so I had to post an interview about that day and how you ended up there, then the stuntwoman who should have been on the shoot told how she just asked you to report her as sick, and expressed her confusion when she heard you filled in for her, and how when she saw my post and realized you weren't even a stuntwoman how she felt she could have got you killed. It's all gone viral. Then someone starts auctioning off those photos you'd have me print and use as postcards on ebay. And since you signed them all simply “A” and a little heart, you got even more mysterious as people got a letter but no name. Then these kids with their selfie, and suddenly A is Alexandra Crowe. Shit. This is all so crazy. I like to think I'm a good self promoter, but no one could engineer this. So yes. I'm crazy busy. And you could be too if you're interested.”

“Are you too busy for lunch?”

“For you? Never. Where?”

“I was thinking someplace secluded..... someplace very publicly secluded.”

Luc chuckled. “You are as devious as ever cheri.” I missed his chuckle.

L'Espalier was a nice little restaurant run by one of the Sonoma vineyard owners, a convenient little place for those touring wine country to break for a quiet little repast.... and a prominent tourist haunt. The scenery was breathtaking and the outdoor dining was designed so that there wasn't a non-photogenic seat in the house. Everyone who ever had to suffer through their friends' travel photos was sufficiently impressed by the pics from L'Espalier, that they were compelled to visit themselves. It was brilliant marketing, and a perfect spot for a public 'private' getaway. As soon as the first smartphone photos were posted on social media, and the facial recognition algorithms tagged Luc's and my face in the background, the rumour mill would get another hefty infusion of hype. ….And as a bonus, we got to have a long-delayed reunion.

“So you're through with school?”

“I wouldn't say ...through.... but the degree was a means to a career.... turns out the career predated the degree. Bill Gates dropped out of Harvard to form Microsoft, only to get an honorary degree decades later.”

“Oh. So now you're comparing yourself to Bill Gates?” My raised eyebrow was accusatory, but my smile was warmly sardonic.

“I'm just saying.... when your opportunity comes, you seize it. ...Even if it comes ahead of schedule. A college athlete won't turn down an NBA contract to play a couple years of varsity.”

“Ah, Now you're Lebron James? Can you compare yourself to Ghandi next and explain how you are way more humble?”

He laughed. “Why do you bust my balls?”

“Because I CAN” I smiled. “Because to me you will always be that slightly lost young man fighting with his iPhone who couldn't tell the difference between another visitor and museum staff.”

“And it never occurred to you that I knew all along, and it was just a clever ploy to meet the pretty girl dressed alarmingly like a museum worker?”

“You weren't that smooth ….at the time.” He broke out into a wide grin, and his eyes sparkled with delight.

“My God. How I've missed you.” he beamed.

“And I you. ...but clearly, you've been quite busy”

“And you? What have you been up to since we decided to....see others.” I could sense the pain in his voice and felt a twinge of guilt.

“Well. I got my documentation squared away and landed a job with a Swiss conglomerate that ended up becoming a lot more than I initially expected.”

“Of course. You're you. How could it not?”

I didn't know if he was complimenting or teasing... probably both... but I just ignored him.

“And as for the seeing others?” he inquired, somewhat hesitantly.

….well there were a few.... 5 actually... all coworkers....

“Five? It has only been a few years....”

“Not sequentially. I met them all separately, but finally managed to introduce them to each other and they all hit it off. We became inseparable.”

“All together? You and Five men?”

Heh, heh. I had him.

“Yes, It got so serious that we finally decided we had to make it legal.”

“Quoi?”

We all quit our jobs and formed a little startup called A5 research. I was the A, Doctors Chayapurna, Loessing, Sukharnov, Ortega and Koetsu were the five. We patented a few things and went public. I cashed out and went to the island to decompress and bumped into the selfie twins.”

“Wait. Wasn't A5 that company that claimed they have a cure for dengue fever and claim they will revolutionize cancer treatment?”

“They won't just revolutionize it. They'll obsolete it. They have a cure. Parkinsons, MS, Alzheimers...” I leaned over and whispered into his ear “even simple aging... They've done it already. In the lab. They're just pacing things because the potential disruption could be ….profound.”

“How can this be possible?”

“I don't know what to say. They are very, VERY smart and and imaginative people who got tired of being told what they couldn't do.”

“And your involvement in this....?”

“I knew them all from work, but they didn't know each other. I saw incredible potential synergy between their disparate research, so I simply played matchmaker. And they let me come along when they formed their startup.”

“They didn't just bring you along. You were the A. They were all just the 5. They obviously recognized your importance to the startup. It seems to me that you were the catalyst of it all.” He made me blush.

“Well, I was just happy to see these guys have a chance to show the world what they were capable of. And take it from me, I know firsthand. What they are capable of is beyond your imagination.”

“So while I'm off becoming a media darling, you are busy becoming a jillionaire executive?”

I laughed. “Yes. You've uncovered my backup plan for world domination.... in case this whole supermodel thing didn't work out.”

“Well, it appears your B plan was unnecessary. You seem to be quite the hot commodity.”

“I like hearing you say I'm hot...” I purred.

“Tres chaud cheri..”

“That's not me. That's the enigma you created. She's exotic and mysterious and unattainable.”

“And she has your face.”

“Ah, but she was a mirage. She didn't even have a name.”

“She does now.”

“Sorry about that. I had no idea. I never intended to sabotage your illusion.”

“Sabotage? Why it's blown up bigger than I'd imagined possible! You came along at just the right time, in just the right remote location and outed yourself to the one couple who could take your heat factor from smouldering to supernova. I'm sure conspiracy types are already shouting that this is some cynical master publicity scheme.”

I scoffed. “I wish we were that brilliant!”

“Moi aussi. So here we are. Having our quiet lunch, in a public place. Let's see if we have been 'made' yet....” he took out his smartphone and did an image search. “Shit. Your name still only brings up my work and that selfie.”

“What about your name? You've been doing all the publicity for your project, you should be all over the net and far more familiar to the recognition algorithms.”

“Ah yes. I am everywhere. But this is all from interviews and appearances.... gallery shows.... old stuff.”

“Sort by date.”

“Right. Ah. Yes. 4 minutes ago. Here we are behind that Asian couple posing for their Facebook post. I have been tagged. But not you.”

“Then tag me, lover.” I smiled.

“I can't. It's their page. I'm not their friend.”

“So friend them. Explain that you are in the background and would like to share their picture. I'm sure they will accept your friend request. Especially if they Google your name.”

So he did. But the confirmation didn't come. Instead, about 5 minutes later, the elderly couple themselves came up to our table.

“Excuse me. Pardon our interruption, but we received a friend request from someone claiming to be the person in the background in a photo. This has never happened before. Was this actually from you or is it another one of those ….what do you call them.... phishing schemes, where people try to steal identities?”

Luc laughed. “No. No scheme. I sent the request. I'd like to repost the picture, but to do that I must be in your online circle.”

“Ahh. I see.” the gentleman said. His companion was a bit more skeptical.

“How did you even know your picture was on our page?”

“There are bots that can alert you if you are mentioned online.” While true, Luc neglected to mention that this was not how he found the photo.

“Who would use such a tool? Celebrities? VIPS? Who are you to use such a tool?”

“Well, my photo was autotagged with my name. Click on my name and run a search.” Luc smiled.

The woman wrestled with her phone for a few moments while her companion watched over her shoulder. We could tell by their change in expression when the search results started pouring in.

“Apologies. We did not realize you were someone famous.”

“Nor should you.” Luc smiled graciously. “I just noticed that my companion here was not tagged, and I wanted to correct the oversight. But I couldn't do that until I was your friend.”

“Oh. I can tag her right now... what is your name dear?”

“Alexandra. Alexandra Crowe” Luc said. I spelled it out, since from their accents, English was clearly not their prime language. They seemed grateful for the spelling help.

“There you go honey. You are tagged too.”

“Thank you very much. You are very gracious to let us be in your photo.”

“Truthfully, we did not know. We just wanted to send a photo to our friends back home of this lovely place.”

“Well. Thank you for tagging us.”

“It is a pleasure. Are you famous too, my dear?”

I smiled coyly. “That is for others to decide.”

“Well then, may we have another photo with you two? With the four of us?”

“Here, we call them 'selfies'” I smiled as I grabbed the phone and held it at arms length while the four of us huddled together. The elderly couple grinning broadly, Luc looking slightly annoyed, and me smiling as enigmatically as I could muster.

“You played that brilliantly.” I smiled at Luc as the couple bade us farewell. “Letting them tag it so you never became their friend. No one will accuse you of planting that photo. And that look of annoyance when they took the picture.”

“You are not the only one who can pout for the camera. And where did you get that smile you used?”

“Some old Venetian woman. I hear she's in Paris now.”

“Ah.” He nodded vacantly. It took a few moments, but I could tell from his grin when he finally got my little joke.

“So,” Luc mused, “I imagine within an hour or two someone will flag the photo of our 'secret meeting', and the rumour machine will begin to build steam. I figure by tomorrow morning our phones won't cease ringing.”

“Your phone, sweetie. Remember, the only one who has MY number ...is you.” I touched the tip of his nose with my index finger.

“So you would like me to handle your management and booking?”

“I know it's not what you want to do with your life, but you handle your own bookings, no?” He nodded. “Well, just consider me another one of your assets that you are managing. If you like, have them book you, and I come along as just another piece of kit. They hire you, and one of the things you can offer them... is me.”

“That hardly seems fair. It is you they want. Not so much me.”

“Ah, but they wouldn't want me... they wouldn't even know I exist if not for you. This is your dream, your chosen career. I just did it as a lark. ….and because I had a crush on the photographer. I will continue to do it – with you – because it sounds like fun and it will be an adventure. I'm not doing it for the money. My ego is not that fragile that I crave the attention. It amuses me. And it gives me joy to see the attention you are getting. ...even if it is mistakenly attributed to me.”

“You are too gracious. But I am no fool. I accept your generous offer. I expect to have a number of preliminary project proposals by tomorrow night. I will prescreen them for you with an eye toward adventure and fun. No?”

“Perfect!”

“And money glamor and fame are not dealbreakers, no?”

“No, if they also involve money glamour and or fame, I will just suck it up and endure the hardships. I understand how much your reputation rides on this too. A boy has to eat.” I smiled warmly at him.

True to his word, Luc called on me the next evening with an embarrassing number of proposals. Most were quite intriguing and I had a difficult time passing on any of them.

“You know, you are committing to so many projects, you will hardly have a moment to yourself for the next 30 plus months.”

“Yes, but I've had plenty of time with myself. I'm bored with my own company. I'd much rather spend the next 30 months with you. ...if this even lasts 30 months.... fame is fleeting.”

“It can be. But it doesn't have to be. And something tells me you will be the one everyone is buzzing about until the fame no longer suits you.”

“As you wish master” I smiled, folded my arms and gave a 'Jeannie blink' that would do Barbara Eden proud.

“Hey, I thought you grew up without indoor plumbing, let alone TV. Where did you get that ?”

I laughed. “I felt like an alien visitor, I knew so little of the world. So I decided I'd be an alien anthropologist, and dove into my studies.” I smiled.

“Well, you are very, very good. No one would ever imagine who you once were.” Luc conceded.

I shuddered slightly at the thought.

“But one thing that has not changed. You continue to fill my head with thoughts.”

I blushed and batted my eyelashes. He furrowed his brow obviously not expecting this reaction. Then broke out in a loud laugh. “I meant, you are still my muse! You have the ability to inspire creative possibilities.”

I put on a mock pout and hung my head slightly. “Oh.... and I thought you were flirting with me.”

Luc leaned in, nuzzling the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply. He then lifted his lips to my ear and whispered “Cheri, have you not yet realized that whenever we are together it is all flirt, all foreplay?”

“...I like foreplay...” I whispered back.

“I have noticed” he smiled a little sadly, and sat back in his seat. “All right. Since you have given me another fabulous idea, I have calls to make and a schedule to set up.” He gave me a very serious stare. “You meant what you said before about wanting to do this?”

I returned his gravity with levity,smiling back sweetly. “Of course I meant it.” Then I lowered my eyebrows and returned his serious stare “I never joke about my work”. My poker face was about to crack when Luc's broke first and he erupted in a stupid grin, which I quickly echoed. He clapped his hands together.

“Well. Then, I have work to do. I have to reschedule my other clients and prepare my new special project.”

“Are you even going to give a hint what this special project is?”

“What is there to tell? After all, it WAS your idea!”

That was no help. I just smiled politely and tried to brace myself for the unexpected. Again.

It took about 10 days for Luc to set up the shoot. He already began working on sets and wardrobe before locking in a client. Only Luc would put creative before commerce, and still find a way to make it work. I was left completely in the dark, so I spent some time visiting my sister, helping her move in to her new home.

“I can't believe you came out to help me move. Especially after you bought me my dream home.”

“I'm happy to be in a position to help”

“No. I mean.... you're loaded.... so why didn't you just hire a moving company?”

“Ahhh.... you mean a team of brawny movers, all at your command?” I laughed. Connie blushed.

“Busted. You have no trouble finding your own firemen, soldiers, EMTs and other strapping specimens. Say, have you ever dated an astronaut?” I laughed.

“Well......” she held the suspense as long as she could “there was this one guy who claimed to be one..... but I found out later he was just embarrassed to admit he was an exotic dancer” I stared at her, trying to process this information. Then we both exploded in laughter.

“Oh, yeah. That's a MUCH more mundane line of work!” I sobbed with laughter.

“So seriously. Why didn't you just hire someone to help me move?”

“Because I wanted to help myself. I missed you. ...I miss ….this.” I said, my laughter still dying down.

Connie got all serious and gazed at me, her eyes welling up and her chin beginning to quiver.

“Jesus. I still can't believe how hard I forced you to be a boy. Can you ever forgive me?”

It was my turn to get serious. Placing a hand on each shoulder and staring into her eyes. “Hey. You were doing what you thought was right. You did it to me for a little over a week. I did it to myself for well over a decade. You were a much faster learner.” I smiled lovingly.

“Yeah. Well you were an insistent teacher.”

“More like an incorrigible student” I laughed. Connie nodded vigorously and burst out laughing too, pulling me in to a tight hug. “I'd like to see you do this with a brawny moving man.” Connie giggled. “No! Actually I wouldn't! Let me rephrase that....” at which point we both broke into uncontrollable fits of giggling. The rest of the move remained that light and silly. It was a great visit and a sorely needed break.

The visit passed much too quickly. Connie insisted on driving me to the airport. I don't think she was quite ready to say goodbye either. I promised that as soon as I got settled on the coast, I would insist that she come for a long visit. She pretended to balk, saying she couldn't make any promises, then asked if Luc knew any hunky straight models who could show her around. We laughed until it was time to go through security and wait alone for my flight. I then had time to begin obsessing over what Luc was planning for my big 'comeback' photo shoot.

I had to laugh when I realized what Luc had planned. The set was an alarmingly accurate recreation of Major Anthony Nelson's apartment, complete with an uncanny doppelganger of a young Larry Hagman. While the retro feel was spot on, my “Jeannie outfit” somewhat ….veered from cannon.

“Barbara Eden never showed her belly button” I observed.

“So we will never know if her ...'belly button'...” Luc seemed tickled at this English term “was as lovely as yours. Even before we plant the jewel in it.”

“Yes. Jewelry. I don't think Jeannie was this ...sparkly”

“They had a TV budget. Fortunately we have an ad budget.”

“Yes, with all that money, you would think you would be able to afford a bit more ...fabric?” I smiled.

“You told me to handle it. You said to treat you as just another piece of my kit.”

“Yes, master” I mock pouted in my best Barbara Eden.

“This is going to be fucking BRILLIANT” the leering ad exec who had been eavesdropping on our conversation blurted out.

Luc and I glanced at each other and suppressed our grins.

The shoot ended up being a campaign for an aspiring hipster vodka brand, and the 1960s Sidney Sheldon vibe immediately appealed to them when Luc pitched it. When they found out that I was to be the Genie, they signed without hesitation. Their whole campaign revolved around the slogan”You will never find a more magical bottle. Well, almost never” and involved our ringers of young Larry Hagman, Bill Dailey and Haden Rourke in classic Jeannie situations, only all revolving around conspicuous consumption of the client's vodka, while I pouted jealously at the vodka bottle that was captivating all the boys. It was great fun and a full 16 hour day, But by the time we left, everyone was happy and exhausted.

The next few months were a blur of airports and hotel rooms, with the occasional break for actual work. If one could call strolling up and down an exotic tropical beach in various skimpy swimsuits for a sports magazine's summer issue, running around the city of lights like an escapee from Marie Antionette's entourage for a Parisian Fashion spread, whirlwind shoots in Dubai, Hong Kong and Singapore for an Australian department chain ad campaign and even a visit to Venezuala's Angel Falls for a spread for an outdoors adventure outfitter “work”. I also got to do some TV and cook with a beloved fixture of Russian television, surf on an Australian magazine show, tour Hungarian castles for a newspaper spread, and visit French wine country... to meet Luc's family.

Even by French standards the Brossards were extraordinary. Phillipe and Sylvie were like the French version of Blake and Alexis Carrington. The essence of debonair. But behind their air of easy charm, I sensed something that could be easily be taken for aloofness.

I interpreted it as ...reticence. They had spent their entire lives constructing this image, the public face of successes and nonchalance, and they guarded their privacy... their faces behind the masks, quite seriously.

I could respect that. I think we quickly came to an unspoken understanding that I saw and respected the facade. I understood its necessity, and had no problem with it.

They would reveal what they chose when they chose and I would not pressure them to do anything until they were ready.

I think that tacit, unspoken understanding sped the process of family acceptance quite rapidly. They quickly seemed to begin to let their guard down, and as we came to know – and like - each other, things became much more casual, but no less extraordinary.

Neither Phillipe or Sylvie came from money. They weren't exactly urchins, just exceptional children of hard working but doting parents.

They met at Universite where Phillipe was studying Architecture and Sylvie in textile sciences. They came together in an extracurricular project to design rapid deployment shelters for victims of earthquakes and other natural disasters in the third world.

Between Phillipe's design skill and Sylvie's knowledge of materials, and serendipitously, love of origami, they designed a light, rugged pop-up shelter that was quickly adopted by aid agencies around the world.

Neither of them made a cent off of it, but that was never the goal. However the public praise they received jumpstarted their reputations and became the foundation stones of their separate careers.

After staying in touch over a decade, they rekindled the relationship once their careers were firmly established, and explored the romantic spark that always seemed just under the surface in their heady college days.

“Very much like you and our Luc” Sylvie chortled.

“Oh. I will concede there was always a frisson of attraction there, that summer, but neither of us acted on it. We didn't want to jeopardize our ...collaboration... which seemed something very special, and possibly fragile.”

Phillipe laughed genially as Sylvie touched his arm. “Mon cher. Could you describe our time together at Universite any more succinctly?” she inquired. He shook his head.

“It seems the acorn does not fall far from the tree.” he chuckled. “It is so ...ironic”

“Ssshh” Sylvie chided.

I was intrigued. “What?”

“It's just that...” he smiled and waved off Sylvie's glare “We love all our children. And they are all exceptional in their way. Gaston is a brilliant scholar, tactician and historian. He is destined to be a world-class diplomat, or even a leader. Elise knew she wanted to be in medicine since she was a small girl and has never wavered. She has a natural talent for it and is weighing many promising opportunities. Laure was what you would call a child prodigy. She would pick up an instrument she had never seen before and within moments bring such sweet sounds you would not know she had not been practicing for years. That child could practically coax music from a stone.” ..he paused and got a faraway look. He turned to Sylvie with a smile. “Do you remember the time she got into your fine crystal?”

She laughed. “I was furious! She had taken it all from the cabinets and spread it across the tables, filling each goblet with water. I was about to take her over my knee when she dipped into a fingerbowl and began circling the rims, and the house ...resonated... with Pachelbel's Cannon!”

They both stopped and smiled at each other, lost momentarily in a shared memory. I marveled at this extraordinary couple and their equally extraordinary family.

“Ah.” Phillipe came back to the present. “Well, all of our children showed a talent, and an inclination very early on.”

I knew where this was going. “But Luc....”

Phillipe sighed. “He was every bit as bright as his siblings. He showed a natural ability for anything he tried his hand at. We never for a moment doubted that his talent would be the equal of his siblings. But he....”

“Lacked direction” Sylvie interjected.

“He was just a late bloomer” I proffered. “I know a little about that myself”

They both chuckled.

“Yes. Luc has told us a little about you.” Sylvie smiled.

“A little?” Phillipe raised an eyebrow.

“Well, what did he tell you? Maybe I can fill in some gaps.” I suggested.

“Well, he tells us that you were raised in a primitive cult until you escaped as a teen”

I smiled. “It was hardly a cult. Simply a strict religious community that spurned many so called 'modern conveniences' as distractions from the way pious people were intended to live. And I didn't escape. I went on a ritual coming of age pilgrimage to find myself and meditate on my life's path before returning. It's all very traditional. Hardly a cult.”

“Eh.” Phillipe waved it off. “But the fact that you did not return.....”

“I don't consider it a failure. I didn't see it as a pass-fail test. There were no wrong answers. I see it as a ...personality test... I found myself. AND I found my path. It just wasn't a path I ever could have imagined when I started.”

Sylive smiled. “Life is like that sometimes.” When I looked in her eyes, I saw unguarded warmth. Any earlier ...reticence.. was gone. I returned her smile.

“And shortly after I found myself. I found Luc. Or maybe he found me. I prefer to think we found each other.” I couldn't hide my smile and had no desire to. The Brossards both saw it and responded.

“I love the story of the art museum. Is that really how it happened?”

“I don't know exactly what Luc told you, but yes. He thought I was a museum worker and I thought he was a....” I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase it to his parents “...chiot perdu”.

They laughed heartily. Sylvie then asked “How long did it take you to know that he spoke fluent English?”

“Well, he had me for a while. But I began to suspect when my friends were talking about him as if he was invisible. He kept a pretty straight face, but he seemed to be enjoying it. They would be mortified if they ever knew. By the time I met him at the theater that evening, all pretense was down. It was actually a pretty clever ruse pretending to have trouble with his phone”

“Oh no, I believe that part was true. But when the pretty English girl came over to help, he just...”

“Seized the opportunity?” I smiled.

“Exactly!” Phillipe nearly shouted. And just as suddenly he got very quiet. “And he found his muse.” The Brossards clasped hands and shared a moment between them. Again, I felt there was a personal backstory that I was not privy to, But it seemed a precious moment between them so I sat quietly and left them to it.

“So!” Phillipe clasps his hands.“Magical summer. Luc comes back to boast about this girl he met, and the big things he will do with his life, and how he is so looking forward to beginning school in the States. And suddenly he has...”

“...found his direction” Sylvie smiles. I love the way they finish each others sentences.

While I was touched by their warm gazes, it went on a little too long and I began to squirm. They must have noticed.

“So. What did you do after that summer?” Sylvie asked politely.

“Well. I returned to Chicago and moved in with my sister. Eventually I got work as a clerical assistant with an international conglomerate, and joined some coworkers to form a small startup. Which met with some success, and no longer needed what I could offer, so I took some time to decide what I wanted to do next with my life, and circumstances led me back to Luc.”

“You make it all sound so ...mundane. The story Luc tells is much more impressive.”

“There's nothing impressive about my life. Except finding your son.”

“And so modest too! How did Luc find such a girl? Tell me dear. Are there more like you at home?”

The laugh exploded before I could stop it. “I surely hope not!” It was spontaneous and I instantly regretted it would come off like vanity. Mercifully, it did not seem to be taken that way.

Having hit it off so well with Luc's intimidating parents, I was a little more relaxed about meeting the rest of his family when they came up for the weekend.

They were all charming and gracious, just like their parents. Someone with a fragile ego could easily be intimidated by this group of stunning overachievers. Still, I could feel the pressure of parental approval on each of them.

Gaston was the ever gracious diplomat and I could tell immediately he would go far. His companion seemed to be just another accessory in his travel kit, but she seemed nice and had her own reasons for being the arm candy of an obvious up and comer.

Elise traveled alone and conceded she was such a science nerd that she was focused on her career and not her love life. She figured she had plenty of time for that, and suddenly started telling me about this radical new company that was doing amazing things with genetic reprogramming and she wondered if they grasped the obvious-to-her implications for completely halting and maybe even reversing human aging.

“They call it the Methusula Gene. And yes. They grasped it from the beginning. The only thing holding them back is the politics and the ….disruptive... nature of such technology”

“How can you know this?”

“I used to work with Doctors Chayapurna, Sukharnov,... well you know them. I used to work with “the Five” as they used to call themselves.”

“Yes. The story is that is why they named their company.... Wait! You used to work with them Ali?”

I sensed the light bulb going off. I nodded sternly.

“YOU'RE the 'A'!”

I nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Merde! Ces't incroyable! Why did you walk away?”

“The science has been done. The real obstacle is political and financial. Too many interests stand to lose too much if this world changing technology actually works. Which it does.”

“You're sure?”

“Certain. We've done it in the lab Cured cancer. Reversed aging. So far the only thing that's made it to the market is a hair regrowth formula, and that was only after convincing the powers that be that the lost revenues from the hair transplant industry would be miniscule compared to the expanded hair products market. The science turned out to be easy. It's the politics that's proving to be hard. It sure would be handy for future leaders in their fields like you and Gaston to take up this cause and make sure these world changing miracles see the light of day and don't get perverted into devastating bioweapons”

Her eyes went wide. “I hadn't even thought of that!”

“We have. And there are safeguards in place, but our opposition is formidable and widespread. This technology needs all the allies it can get.”

“And you know this works.”

“Absolutely certain.”

“How can you be so sure? Lab results are a good indication, but...”

“Have you heard of 'subject zero'”

“Sure. Who hasn't? It's an urban legend.”

“No. It isn't. I mean they aren't.”

“You really did live tests on a human subject?”

“Yes. We did. So I know it works.”

“You mean the 5 scientists did.”

“Well, actually it was only one scientist. And me”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me?....”

I nodded.

“I find this very hard to believe. First to be told that subject zero is NOT an urban legend. And then for you to imply...”

“I'm not implying. I'm declaring. I was subject zero. I never had a moments hesitation. I knew how brilliant these guys were. I trusted them with my life. And they saved decades of testing and bureaucracy. I understand your skepticism. You wouldn't be much of a scientist otherwise. Would you like a polygraph?”

“A cheek swab would be more useful.” she smiled.

“Get a kit. I'll wait.” I replied patiently.

“No. That won't be necessary. I believe you. Why would you make that up? What could you gain?”

“Not a thing. And a lot to lose. So I'm trusting you to doctor patient confidentiality, ok?”

“But you are not my patient.”

“OK. Get that swab kit. Then I will be.”

She smiled. “OK. You're my patient. My FIRST patient by the way. Wow. My first patient was urban legend 'Subject Zero'.... and I can't tell a soul!” Her face went a little sad.

“You never know. Someday you may. And I'm sure by that time that will be the least interesting thing about your career. Seriously, if you ever want to talk or consult with any of the Five, just let me know. I have a feeling you would hit it off. And they trust me when it comes to bringing people together.”

Well, I had undoubtedly won over Elise. Gaston had been tactfully unopposed to me. Next up was Luc's twin, Laure.

She was the least reserved of the entire family and we hit it off immediately. How could anyone not instantly fall in love with this girl? She was so full of life and joy and unrestrained curiosity. She was the embodiment of the term 'free spirit'.

“So you're the muse?” she beamed as she bounded up to me. I tried to return her smile, but could not match the sheer intensity. “I wish I had a muse.”

“I can't imagine you'd need one. You seem to be your own muse.”

“You know, you're right! Very perceptive. I can see why everyone likes you.” somehow, her smile got even wider. She practically skipped out to the stone terrace overlooking the green rolling hills. I somehow knew I was expected to follow.

“You're parents are delightful. Your sister is scary smart but easy to talk to. Luc is... well...” I blushed.

Laure giggled.

“But I don't think Gaston likes me.”

“Oh. Gaston doesn't like anyone. He doesn't dislike you. And that's about as good as it gets from Gaston. Even with his own family.” I could see her processing something. “See! Gaston already treats you like family!” she grinned.

“I like the way you look at things.”

“Sometimes the only thing you have control over is how you see things.”

“And so wise too. So why aren't you a philosopher?”

Laure scowled. “Too QUIET!” Then she furrowed her brow and rested her chin on her fist “And too many wrinkles!” and the carefree grin returned. How can anyone not love this girl?

“So the boys must be knocking each other over for your attentions.”

“Meh. Artboys. They're ...fun... but it's all about them. Their installation, their performance piece, their rent money”

I nodded.

“Nothing against boys, but I'm having too much fun with my music. I get to travel across the E.U. Play with amazing orchestras, attend amazing festivals and events.... boys are... too much work.”

I nodded.

“Still, I like to think about my amazing wedding. With a full orchestra, total age of opulence thing. The ultimate performance piece before a select hand-picked audience. Oh the things I could do....”

“And you will” I smiled.

“Not anytime soon, I hope!” and we both laughed. I could not imagine this effervescent sprite sitting still for the duration of a wedding service, let alone settling into a domestic life. Not anytime soon.

The weekend seemed to be going well, and I kind of hated the thought of leaving. It was ...tranquil, here. But not boring. I could see why the Brossards settled here, and why for the children, wherever their careers took them, this was always “home”. I started to get all sentimental and had to check my mental calendar. Yeah. That would explain it. That and the fact that this was a marvelous and welcoming family.

Sunday was quite an affair. I accompanied the Brossards to Catholic Mass which was really something for a reasonably pious kid who never missed services at our very humble clapboard chapel. I marveled at the ways different people interacted with the Divine. But I figured a Creator who was capable of peppering the world with such diversity warranted nothing less than equally diverse methods of praise. The setting was an ancient French Cathedral and the majesty of the ritual perfectly suited the surroundings.

After Mass we returned for a sumptuous formal Sunday dinner. I don't know if they did this because they had company or if it was a weekly routine, but the ritual and pageantry of the meal was every bit as impressive and overwhelming as the church service.

Even though I had only known them for a few days, there was already an ease between us. It felt as if we had been doing this for years. Stupid PMS. I was getting overwhelmed with emotions sharing the table with this wonderful family. I asked to be excused and stepped out to the terrace for air. I was NOT going to blubber in front of everyone.

Luc came out and caught me mid sob.

“Hey. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just... your family has been so welcoming, and I... I really like them.”

“Even Gaston?” That broke my sobs, and I nodded and giggled.

Luc held me and looked me in the eye. “And they like you too. No that's wrong. They adore you.”

“Even Gaston?” I smirked.

Luc shrugged “Meh. No one can ever tell with him.” and we both laughed and hugged.

“Now that my family's so taken with you, I don't think I could get rid of you if I wanted to. They would never forgive me.”

“So don't ditch me for the next pretty muse that comes along.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. In fact...” it was then that I saw everyone standing together at the glass doors to the terrace, arms around each other ...except Laure, who was bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. I turned back to Luc just as he dropped to one knee....

The next 20 months were a blur, between fulfilling Luc's photoshoot schedule and planning the wedding. The Brossard women were marvelous. Laure may have no intention of settling down, but she had been planning her storybook wedding since she was 9. She was more than happy to executive produce her fantasy wedding, especially since she got to have all the “fun” and avoid the “till death do us part” bit. I was happy to play the lead in her production, since nothing in my life prepared me for planning my own storybook wedding. Back home it would be a simple, humble affair in the chapel. A festive meal and celebration, then back to the farm chores the next day. I didn't crave the pageantry, but I didn't mind it either. It was the latest unbelievable adventure in the unfolding miracle that was my life since Rumspringa. Since the family of the bride traditionally paid for the wedding, and money was not an issue for me, I told Laure to dream big. As if she needed to be told.

Luc approached me gingerly about the subject, but I quickly dispelled any misgivings he may have had about turning my “Bride phase” into yet another opportunity for Studio Brossard to expand into even more areas of fashion and style photography. While Laure was still in charge, she now had minions from throughout the industry who were competing to be on the roster of the buzz machine's latest hot celebrity wedding.

It was a storybook event. I think most of the village was there, which was fine with me. My side of the church only had my sister Connie, and about a dozen friends and coworkers and spouses from A+5, and Martin Sachs. I was surprised and flattered that he came. He told me at the reception that he was surprised and honored that I'd asked. He's a good man and a great steward, and the world needs more like him. Connie didn't mind that I kept three open seats for Temperance, Felicity and Chastity. We knew that they couldn't come even if they wanted, but if word ever got back, I wanted them to know that they were there in spirit... in the front pew right next to my big sister.

The town hadn't changed a bit. I was overcome with the memory of the six of us waiting for the bus to carry us off on the great adventure that was to be our Rumspringa.

Luc had insisted on seeing where I grew up before we returned to France to begin the next phase of our adventure, so once I got his word that we would simply be tourists and have no interaction with “the natives”, we rented a car and I directed him to my hometown.

He loved the “ruralness” of it. The stark simplicity. The unambiguous blacks, whites and grays of everything. I think he regretted shooting color and mused out loud about going for an Ansel Adams look with his finished photo essay.

He was off shooting sheds or tines in fields or something, while I lingered behind. I couldn't gallivant the way I used to, and he graciously left me behind. I smiled when I walked into the grocery store and saw more of our last 30 months of projects smiling out from the magazine rack. “..Even here...” I thought to myself. I wondered if Tem or Felicity ever came in for supplies and spied the smiling face on the magazine cover and smiled back secretly.

Suddenly a loud uproar came from the door and this ...whirlwind... of children scattered every which way with a very harried, very pregnant woman lagging in their wake. One of the littler ones, I'd guess 3 or 4 careened into me, sending his straw hat flying down the aisle and his mop of unruly brown hair spewing like a broccoli sprig.

“Zephram!” The woman scolded. Pick yourself up. What do you say?

He looked up at me with big sincere eyes and said in his tiny voice “Sorry Ma'am.”

I couldn't help but smile and pat him on the head.”It's alright. No harm done. Just slow down and be careful.”

“Yes ma'am” and he hung his tiny head,

“Now go get your hat and find your brothers and sisters.” I patted his back and gently propelled him in the direction of his hat. He looked up at me, smiled and scurried off.

“I'm SO sorry. He's usually so well behaved. He's just excited. It's the first time we let him join us on a trip into town.”

“I understand. Yours?”

She smiled.

“All of them?”

She startled. “Oh, heavens NO! ...Well, four of the seven. I have four.”

“Counting?” I looked down at her swelling belly.

“No. Five soon.” she smiled sheepishly.

“Very soon.”

She smiled and lifted her eyes upward. “From your lips to his ears!”

There was a ….dare I call it a pregnant pause?

“And what about you?” she smiled.

“My first”

“Ah...” she nodded and smiled a cheshire cat grin.

“What?” I asked smiling back.

“You'll see. I wouldn't want to spoil the fun.”

“Fun, is it?”

“Oh yes, actually. The hardest work you will ever do. But also the most rewarding, On the hard days, keep remembering the best days. They get you through.”

“Thank you miss....”

“Um, Chastity.”

“What a lovely name. So ...biblical. But a little unwieldy. Do your friends call you Chastity, or does anyone ever shorten it to something... like Chaz?”

She looked at me for the longest time without saying a word, then her eyes got far away and I began to worry that I broke her. Suddenly she was yanked back to earth.

“Chastity!” The woman barked as she strode through the door. “Round up your brood. We're waiting outside!”

“I have to go home now.” she said to me almost apologetically, and waddled off to fetch the children.

I walked over to the other woman. “It was my fault. I roped her into conversation and got her all distracted.”

“Don't blame yourself. It's not that hard.” she smiled. Then she kind of froze with the smile still half on her face. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. “I'm sorry. Do I know you from someplace? You... look....”

I backed over to the magazine rack and held the swimsuit issue next to my face.

“Ohmigosh! That's where I've seen you!” then she took a good look at me and smiled. “I guess that was a while ago.”

“Almost a year” I smiled. “Hi Tem.”

She gasped, and for a moment I was afraid she'd forget to start breathing again.

“H..H...How? How do you... I mean how does a swimsuit model know me?”

I smiled and opened the magazine to the masthead and credits including the cover page. Handing it to her with my finger placed by the credits.

“Photo Luc Brossard. Model Alexandra Crowe?” She still wasn't getting it.

“Eight years and you haven't changed a bit.” I gazed at her warmly. She looked back more perplexed than ever. “Neither has Luc. He's every bit as dashing as that day we met him at the museum. I on the other hand...” and I patted my swollen belly.

“Alexandra? ...Allison? ….Lee-”

“Everyone just calls me Ali. God, I've missed you Tem.” and I wrapped my arms around her.

“But. How... Wh..HOW???...”

“Luc wanted to see where I grew up before we flew back to France. Oh, I wish you could have been there Tem. It was a storybook wedding. We saved places for you Felicity and Chas. You were there in our hearts. If you ever see Connie, she can tell you all about it. It was lovely. More than I could have ever dreamed.”

She touched my belly and jumped back with a start.

“Yeah, she does that a lot. Well, I say “she” because I really do want to name her Serendipity. But it could be a boy. ...never want to jump to conclusions” I smiled. “One thing for certain, this baby is going to grow up to be a kickboxer!”

Temperance just stood back trying to compose her thoughts. “But. But HOW?”

I inhaled deeply and locked her gaze. “I'd heard the phrase all my life, but until I left with you for Rumspringa I never grasped the enormity of the saying 'God works in mysterious ways'.”

I wrapped my arms around her and gave her another strong hug. “I can't begin to thank you”

She looked at me blankly, I think she was still stunned and overwhelmed and trying to wrap her head around everything.”Thank ME?” She truly didn't know. “For what?”

“...for my LIFE!” I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her for dear life. My life. She spread her arms around me and we both held onto each other until we were unceremoniously broken up when the baby started kicking like crazy. We broke apart and erupted in laughter, overcome with wonder and joy at the ways the world can always exceed imagination.