Circle of Knowledge

Poor Elliot Saint James.

He was the bookseller over at Circle of Knowledge and the local archivist.

He had just learned that his wife cheated on him. And he's chosen to cry on MY shoulders. How ironic. Especially with Gustave acting stranger and stranger.

"It's going to be all right. You'll find someone else," I told him.

"That's just it," he reminded me, "I already have."

"So you're the one who cheated?"

"She cheated first," he said, "but then I tried to get back at her and cheated myself."

I shook my head. Those games NEVER work.

So while Elliot had his eyeballs deep in the archives ...

I sneaked in to fish out some of the notes for the research paper on the history of nectar that Gustave so absent-mindedly misplaced somewhere in that house. Either that or Jolene tossed that paper in the garbage.

After I was done with getting the notes, I waited outside Gustave's place for him. I was careful to stand next to his marble fountain so that he'd see me. My dress looks like it could be a regular girly flowered dress but it actually has a skull print.

"Bonjour!" he greeted me, still wearing his work uniform. "Interesting outfit."

I laughed. "Merci beaucoup," was all I managed to come up with for a reply.

"Guess what? I did it."

"You did what?"

"I did it. I got those notes for the paper we're presenting to the historical society."

"How?"

"Tres simple, I sneaked into the archives, then I put together the notes I had. Seriously, did you expect me to just let this go?"

"Vous êtes-vous incroyable, savez-vous cela?"

"Je sais."

"To say you are an American, your French is excellent. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you a native."

Me and Gustave (cont'd)

"You know, Gustave, the Circle of Knowledge Bookstore is having a big sale," I suggested a little while later. "Maybe we can go in there and look around."
"I'm really kind of tired," he replied, "I was on my feet all day at Yves' shop. Being the special merchant is not the fun and games it appears to be."

"Hey, they're talking about those relics I found in Egypt."

"I know, c'est tres interessante."

"Mes parents, my parents were both professors at the Sorbonne. My father was a Dutch national, my mother was French. I was an only child. When they retired, they came to Champs Les Sims where they raised me. When I was a teenager, their Cessna plane crashed in the Swiss Alps when they were on vacation. Their bodies were never found."

My French isn't great but it's passable. "Oh, c'est terrible!" I exclaimed.

"Que sera, sera," he sighed. "It is what it is. I learnt to live with it, I had no choice. I was alone in the world. Then Jolene sort of made herself my protector --"

"Ah, so that's it. You're afraid to leave the cocoon, take chances, take risks."

Gustave laughed. "And here you are, you take risks for a living." He then took a deep breath and asked a question I didn't expect. "Why do you do this work?"

"Because I like it."

"Days at a time in dusty underground tombs."

"Because I love it."

"You should be at home going to parties and planning your wedding."

"I've never been a party person. They never made me comfortable."

"I bet you have suitors lined up at your door."

"None that I'm interested in."

He later revealed that he had an extensive collection of postage stamps from all over the world, and I offered to give him a few of my Sunset Valley stamps, the ones with Victor Goth and Chester Landgraab on them. He seemed excited about that.
"You know the Admiral had a chateau here."

I gently needled him. "I know, I was in it. You sent me into his library. Did you forget already?"

He had a worried look on his face. "You've made me talk about my childhood," he then said, "but I have not heard one word about yours."

"There isn't much to talk about," I told him, "my story has been all over the gossip magazines. I was an enfant terrible."

"You?"

"Oui, c'est vrai. My early childhood was normal -- if you consider learning that you were able to talk to ghosts normal -- but when I became a teenager I started acting out. Skipping school, drinking, breaking curfew -- you name it, I was doing it. Eventually, though, I figured out that I had to stop doing what I was doing or I was going to end up in a very bad place. So just before graduation I straightened myself up and then when I was in the midst of deciding what I wanted to do, I signed up with MorcuCorp --"

"Hence, the adventures."

"What are you thinking about?" He had a blank expression on his face. Gustave sure is hard to read sometimes.

"A lot of things, actuellement." He let out a deep breath. "You, my parents --"

"Me?"

"I like you, a whole lot. I might even say that I care for you. But I am afraid that I am not good enough for you. You deserve someone who can do much more for you than I ever could."

Me and Gustave

Gustave invited me over to his place. Again.

Apparently the guy is a couch potato. "When I get home from work," he told me, "I like to sit on the couch and relax with either a good book or a good history program."

"So, what's the deal with you and Jolene?" I asked him. "Is she, like, your girlfriend or something?"



"Jo and I, we grew up together. Our parents were great friends. We went to the same schools, had the same group of friends, and then when we grew up, we decided to become roommates. She married a Parisian, a garcon called Montaque, and when that didn't work out she returned here and bought the cafe.

"We moved in here as soon as the marriage was dissolved. We never actually dated -- is that what you Americans call that? -- but have remained great friends."

"That explains it! Her marriage didn't work out so she's trying to make YOU miserable, too. Gustave, I have a novel idea -- can't you just move out?"

"I'm not sure I can," he told me.

"Why?"

"I'm clumsy, I'll forget my head if it weren't attached --"

"Gustave, I'm sure you would make it on your own if you tried. Because, really, you're abiding by her rules instead of your own."

"I have tried. If you hadn't gone in the kitchen the other day the whole house would have burned!"

Me and Mean Jolene

Before heading over to Gustave's, I went back to base camp and fixed myself a sushi dinner, amidst the prying eyes of the Chinese delegation. My affection for the seaweed dish has been well documented; I fell in love with it the first time mom learned the recipe and fixed it for me. I eventually learned to make it myself.

After eating I took a little jog through the town...

...and paid a visit to the cafe. Pssst, here I am, about to deal once again with Mean Jolene.

"What's the deal with you, huh?" I asked. "You gonna do this to any woman who crosses Gustave's path? Let me tell you something, he's a handsome guy, you'd better get used to this."

"No," she whispered, "not every girl, just spoiled vich Amedicans."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I know enough to know that I do not like you."

"Thanks. I take that as a compliment." When I walked out, she followed me.

"What gives you the privilege to take over this town?" Jolene asked me. "You walk around here like you own the place."

"My parents taught me to believe in myself."

The Aftermath

After I got done talking to Yves, I spotted ...

Gustave...

staring absent-mindedly out the store window.

I took a deep breath. I hadn't seen him since, you know, that night. I didn't know exactly how to proceed. This is entirely new for me, not knowing. Usually I'd just barrel through.

But I couldn't do that here. With Gustave. With Yves. With the Chinese lady in the store window-shopping.

So I just stood there for a few moments. "Care to clue me in?" asked Yves. "Something happen between you and Delven there?"

I let out a deep breath and shook my head. "Heck no!" I lied, not even sure I sounded convincing.

Yves took the Chinese tourist to the back of the store...which left me and Gustave. In the store.

Alone.

Sigh.

Why does this have to be so damn complicated? And why do I get absolutely tongue tied in situations like this?

It's easy for my brother. He just strolls up to some girl and she's batting her eyelashes and falling under his spell.

For me, though, damn, why did I have to inherit the Plumb reticence in these matters? Why did I have to be more like Aunt Margaret and not like dad?

My reverie, though, was interrupted by Gustave's voice. "Savannah!"

I turned around.

"I get worried about you when you go off on these adventures," he said as he gave me a hug.

I was surprised. "You do?"

"Absolutement."

"I had to go do something at the museum for Yves."

"Would you like to come over tonight?" he asked.

"Sure, I guess," I replied, letting out a deep breath. "After work?"

"Oui, c'est bon."

"See you then."

Trouble at the Museum Part Six

I woke up at about eleven in the morning. I picked up my tent and got ready to leave.

Hopping on my trusty Kenspa, I rode through the town straight to Alexis' Relics, the relic shop where Yves Bernard, the new curator of the Champs Les Sims museum, worked part-time.

When I arrived there about forty-five minutes later, I looked around for Yves and wondered if he was in the warehouse.

"Doctor Plumb," he acknowledged me as I walked in. "You look concerned. You have news about the museum."

"I do. Seems the old curator met a rather unfortunate end. "

"Oh? Please, do, tell me about it."

I told him everything, about the note he'd left, about the exhibit on the bottom floor he was putting together, about how he wanted to be buried next to his wife in the family plot.

"Hmm, I'm glad you got to the bottom of it all. Happy to hear all this is now ended and I can hire a permanent security detail for the museum."

Trouble at the Museum Part Cinq

I emerged from the basement through a secret tunnel and ended up right outside. After coming out, I took the opportunity to stretch.



I also took a bite of the pemmican Gustave gave me. It's like the dried bread that you buy but sweeter.

Then, I was off. In the middle of the night, I was on my way to the cemetery in France with the remains of the former curator.

When I got there, I went looking around for the family plot. But, I admit, that wasn't the only thing I was searching for.

There were a few ghosts wandering around, too! This particular one was a red ghost, meaning he burned to death.

After I did some poking around, I found a switch that I activated.

Spotting the family plot, I laid the poor unfortunate curator to rest.

Now that he was rested, so was I. I crashed right there, in the cemetery. I guess it had always been my fantasy to sleep in one...

Dreams of Gustave, Savannah

Trouble at the Museum Part Quatre

Suddenly I had an idea.

I had a notion to turn around and go into the room that was locked. There I found a suspicious looking chest.

Apparently opening that chest triggered a switch that allowed me to avoid the lightning trap and get into the room I was apparently supposed to get into.

What I saw, though, surprised even me. And I'm not easily surprised, especially in my travels.

There was an enclosed room with a makeshift gravestone and a note. It read, in a rushed script, "I was the curator of the museum. I was working on this exhibit when the door closed behind me." He continued to make a request -- to bring his remains to the family plot, where he'd be buried with his wife.

So that was it. This poor gentleman met his unfortunate end deep below the basement here in the museum.

Once I found his remains, the next step was to try to get out of here before I met the same fate -- and to explain everything to Yves, who has no clue about any of this.