The rain fell hard on the roof as Andrew Correo sat in his study re-reading his favorite classic novel, The Phantom of the Opera. The weather outside set the mood for the story. Andrew planned to sit by himself all morning and afternoon reading the book from cover to cover. The book and its characters filled him with great emotion every time he opened to chapter one.

Bayberry Road was a quiet road on the outskirts of Edson. The surrounding serenity motivated Andrew's family to choose this land and build their home. Seldom would cars explore the old country road, and when one did, it provided just enough noise as it passed to alert Andrew. He heard one such vehicle approaching as it sloshed along the wet road toward his property. He glanced out the window, and looked through the trees surrounding the yard. A long black limousine approached on the road. Its lights reflected on the wet pavement.

Andrew never expected to see a limousine on Bayberry Road. The last one had escorted his family to his father's funeral. Often, a Sunday driver explored and admired the beauty of the road, or the occasional teenagers would venture out on the road at night, seeking the privacy that Bayberry Road could provide. Andrew never thought twice about the juveniles. He remembered doing the same thing as a young man and just let the matter go at that.

Edson was a small town. It seldom had troubles and crime. The population of the town topped out at 4,800. Everyone knew everyone else. The Correo Family were no exception to this. They were upstanding citizens of Edson and well respected. From the time the Correo family settled in Edson, they helped the city with donations of their family wealth to whatever causes needed it most. At one point, Andrew's father was named philanthropist of the year for his contributions to the community.

Andrew watched the limousine signal, and then enter his semicircular driveway. Seen from the third story, the driveway mimicked a moat encircling the front yard.

He got up and left his study for the front door. His curiosity and excitement stirred him to take two stairs at a time, something he had not done since he was a teenager in school running late for History.

As he reached the foyer, he checked himself in the mirror above a small table used to store his car keys. Running his fingers through his thick blond hair, he examined his round face and then stared for a moment into his own blue eyes. He looked fine, not a hair out of place, and ready to greet his guests.

He reached the front door as the limousine came to a stop in front of it. Peering out the diamond window in the door, he watched the driver get out. The stranger opened an umbrella as he stood. The rain continued all around him as he hurried along the side of the car to the back, passenger side door. Andrew could not see the rider, or riders, through the car's black tinted glass.

Holding the umbrella both over himself and the car door, the driver pulled up on the door latch. This gave Andrew his first glimpse inside. An older, rather portly man, about fifty by appearance, was the first person to step out.

The man's salt and pepper hair was slicked back, revealing a strong forehead. His thick eyebrows seemed to shadow his large dark eyes as he peered up to the house, making eye contact with Andrew. Andrew continued to study the old man's features, noticing a strong, broad chin and small firm lips.

Two other gentlemen, Andrew's age of twenty-nine, were next to follow. One had short, dark hair. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, odd on such a cloudy, dreary day.

The other man looked more like Andrew. His blond wavy hair hung down over his forehead, leading down to his light eyes. He looked up to the house and smiled noticing Andrew staring back.

Andrew's interest outweighed his fear. He opened the door for the group as they reached the top step.

"Can I help you gentlemen," Andrew asked in a friendly tone.

"Andrew Correo?" The eldest man asked.

Andrew stammered, "Yes, can I help you?"

"My name is Dominic. I have news about your family." He looked up at the rain with obvious frustration and continued, "May we come in?"

Andrew's thoughts raced to his mother, Brittany, as he let all four of the men in from the rain. Andrew handled emergencies stoically and remained strong as he prepared himself for bad news. He took their dripping coats and hung them in the foyer closet. The limo's driver declined Andrew's gesture to take his coat and turned for the door. He returned to the limousine without a word.

Andrew's anxiety reached its peak. It could only be his mother. His sister, Monica, was fine at home on the other side of town. Brittany and Monica were all he had left. His mother moved to Laguna Beach, California three years before, sick of the snow and the cold in New England.

"What's happened to my mother?" Andrew said, unable to hold his patience.

"Your mother?" Dominic questioned. "No my friend, we came to talk to you about your grandfather, Antonio."

* * *

John Weaver stepped out of his shower and reached for his towel. His eyes were shut tight, keeping out any water. After wiping his eyes and face, he walked to the window. He gently separated the blinds with his fingers and glared out at the gray September sky. The leaves on the maple and birch trees in front of his condo were starting to turn light shades of red, orange, and yellow. The rain loosened some of the leaves, forcing them to fall to the ground in the wind. This depressed him. The summer was over and the doldrums of autumn and winter were approaching. He thought of Monica. The thought brought a brightness back to his soul. He let the drapes fall back into place and began to towel off the rest of his dripping body.

Monica Correo dated John for over two years. Regardless of her hints, John just lacked the nerve to ask her to be his wife. Now the time had come. Walking into his adjoining bedroom, naked except for the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, John slid open his sock drawer and found the small, velvet jewelry box. He pulled it out and opened it.

A two carat marquis diamond ring sparkled back at him. He looked up from the box to the picture of Monica on his dresser. He smiled and spoke to the photo, "Tonight, Monica, tonight." He winked at the picture, closed the small black box and placed it back with his socks for safekeeping. Marriage filled his mind. All of his friends supported the move. Asking Monica was the hardest part.

John moved back to America from England five years ago after graduating from college in London. He was brought up in a family that believed schooling abroad would enhance his education and give him experiences that he could not have in America. Now, he was the youngest restaurant owner in Edson. Weaver's became a success and gave John lots of new friends and acquaintances in the area.

He dated off and on after arriving in Edson, but no one had affected him as much as Monica. His parents had been right. England had given him several new experiences, just not all beneficial ones. Past relationships had soured him to love. It was hard for him to get involved with any woman, never mind the commitment of marriage. Monica changed all that. She brought him out of hiding and showed him that there was life beyond his past.

Walking into the living room, Andrew and his three guests made themselves...