Author's note: So, we come to the end. But first, that special guest appearance you've all been waiting for…

In the days following his mother's death, Gaston found himself dreading the moment he came home at night. It took him by surprise. He had always taken his mother for granted. But now that she was gone, the house seemed to echo with silence. He wasn't used to being alone. All his life, he had come home to a hot meal and someone asking him how his day went. The place seemed lonely and empty without her.

As the weeks passed, he also realized ruefully that she had been right: he did need someone to take care of him. He had never learned how to cook, or clean, or wash and mend clothes. And he certainly had no desire to learn – that was women's work, he thought disdainfully.

Of course, there was no shortage of young women eager to help the poor, bereaved, devastatingly handsome and eligible young man. They showed up on his doorstep with covered casserole dishes and words of condolence, and left with bags of his clothes to wash, iron and mend. They cheerfully offered to clean his house for him, and stopped him on the street to ask sympathetically how he was feeling, and if he ever needed someone to talk to.

Although the girls sought to appear selfless and compassionate, there was of course nothing altruistic about this new spirit of volunteerism. An elderly, impoverished widow would not have found the same army of helpers at her door. To the young women of the village, every act of kindness was an audition for the role of a lifetime: that of Madame Gaston. And each was determined to nab that role for herself. Every homemade apple pie, every darned sock or laundered sheet carried an unspoken message: that its bearer would make the perfect wife for him, the one he should choose above all others.

Of course, Gaston knew full well that they all had marriage on their minds. And he agreed with the idea. These little favors were merely a stopgap measure, after all – he needed someone to deal with his domestic chores permanently. Besides, he was already 20 years old. It was high time he settled down and got married to a beautiful woman who would adore and worship him around the clock, dote on him in the manner he was accustomed to, take care of all the cooking, cleaning and sewing, share his bed enthusiastically (but be innocent and virginal when he married her), and of course, produce a large brood of strapping boys to carry on his name. Although he had been an only child himself, he loved the idea of being the patriarch of a large family. It was proof of his virility, as well as a source of pride and status to raise a fine family of strong sons, smaller versions of himself, who would grow up to be future leaders of the town.

The only question was: which girl should he pick to be his bride? He studied them all closely as he strolled through the village. He ruled out the triplets immediately, a fact that would have devastated them had they known. They were lovely, but unfortunately, they were identical. None was prettier than the others; therefore, none was the best. And make no mistake about it: he would have only the best. Besides, if he married one of the triplets, he would always know that two other men had wives just as beautiful as his. That was not acceptable. He needed a wife far superior to all others – one so exquisite that every man in the village would envy him.

But try as he might, he just couldn't decide. There was no shortage of pretty girls in town: Monique, Cecile, Esme, Danielle, Lisette, Simone…Any one of them would be thrilled to be his wife. But none of them was really outstanding. None was so much more comely than the others as to clearly be the best.

Then one day, as Gaston sat on his front porch cleaning his rifle, LeFou came running up to him. "Hey, did you hear the news? A new family moved into the village!"

Gaston was pleased at the thought of new people to admire him. Most of the villagers had lived in Molyneaux their entire lives; there hadn't been a new arrival since Francois and his family seven years earlier. "Who are they?"

"An old man and his daughter. The guy is an inventor. Seems like kind of a crackpot, to be honest," LeFou said. "But the daughter's really pretty. I saw her in the marketplace a minute ago."

A new, pretty girl in town? Gaston was intrigued. He popped into his house for a moment to check his reflection in the mirror. Perfect as always, he thought with satisfaction. Then he strode off in the direction of the marketplace, LeFou at his heels.

Gaston spotted the girl immediately, her blue dress standing out among the drab tan garments of the women around her. She turned, and he saw her face for the first time. The sight took his breath away. Perfect, delicate features framed by dark, flowing hair that reminded him of his mother's. She was absolutely gorgeous.

Gaston was delighted. Finally, a girl whose beauty was worthy of him.

He headed towards her. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," he said charmingly. "Are you new in town?"

She smiled warmly, glad to meet someone so friendly. "Yes, we just moved here today. I'm Belle. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed smugly.

A trace of uncertainty passed over her face, but she just said, "And, you are…?"

"All your dreams come true!" Gaston proclaimed. He flexed his muscles, letting her get an eyeful of his heart-stopping good looks and impressive physique. He knew exactly what she was thinking: that she had never seen anyone as handsome as Gaston in her entire life.

He beamed proudly at her. "I'll bet when you found out you were moving to this village, you never dreamed you'd meet someone like me!"

"No…I certainly didn't," she admitted. Her smile had faded – no doubt with the daunting realization that she couldn't possibly be good enough for someone as magnificent as himself, Gaston thought. How thrilled she would be to find out he did want her after all.

LeFou piped up. "His name is Gaston! He's the strongest man in the whole village, and the greatest hunter too! He can shoot anything! There's a whole wall of the tavern covered with his trophies – deer, elk, boar, wolves…"

"Really," said Belle politely. "That's…certainly a lot of dead animals."

"Oh, yes," bragged Gaston. "Why don't we take a walk over there, and I'll show them to you?"

"Well, actually, I was just on my way to the bookshop," Belle said.

Gaston frowned. "The bookshop? Why?"

Belle looked puzzled. "Well…to get a book, of course."

Gaston wrinkled his nose in distaste. "You like to read?"

Belle's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! I love to read. All kinds of books: novels, plays, poetry, history, even fairy tales. I think books are wonderful – they take us out of our ordinary lives and show us possibilities we've never dreamed of." Her voice was more animated than it had been during the entire rest of the conversation.

A girl who spent her time reading – how inappropriate, almost scandalous. But then, Gaston remembered, her father was an eccentric inventor. He must have raised her with all kinds of strange ideas. The poor misguided girl hadn't had anyone to teach her the right things and show her the appropriate way for a woman to act.

She was lucky she had met Gaston. Another man might have rejected her for such odd ways. But Gaston was generous enough to forgive her faults. And anyway, as his father had told him, when it came to women, bad habits could be changed and proper behavior learned. Once they were married, she would give up her books soon enough. He would see to that. And he would get one of the village women to teach her how to cook and sew, if she didn't know how already. It was a trivial matter, easily solved.

The most important thing was how she looked. And she looked wonderful – much more beautiful than any other girl in the village. He ran his eye over her figure. She was dressed modestly, but that was good – he didn't want a wife who flaunted herself all over town for every man to ogle. His wife's body would be for him alone to look at. And he could see it was a good one, even under the conservative attire. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to remove her blue dress, slowly, like unwrapping a present, to see what lay beneath.

Seeing the look in his eye, Belle looked slightly alarmed. The girl must be overwhelmed by her own desire for him, and struggling to keep control of herself, Gaston thought.

"Do you know how to cook?" Gaston asked, to gauge how much work would be involved in turning her into a proper wife.

"What? Oh. Yes, of course I do," Belle said, confused by the sudden change of subject. "I cook dinner for my father every night." A trace of sadness entered her voice as she went on, "It's just the two of us now. You see, my mother passed away, and—"

"That's too bad," Gaston interrupted, uninterested in the rest of the story. She knew how to cook. That was all he needed to know. "So, how about coming with me to see those trophies now?"

"Thank you, but I really should be going," Belle said quickly. "I promised my father I'd go to the bookshop for only a minute, and then hurry back to help him unpack." She started to walk away.

Gaston followed her and smoothly darted in front of her, blocking her way. "You know, Belle, for months now everyone has been wondering who I would pick to be my bride. Every girl in town has been praying and hoping that she'll be the lucky one. But until now, I've never found the right girl."

"What a shame," said Belle, backing away from him. "Well, I'm afraid I really do have to go now. But it was very nice talking to you. I hope you find the girl you're looking for." With that, she edged around him and hurried off toward the bookshop.

Gaston watched her go. "Oh, I have," he said to himself, grinning.

He knew she would be overjoyed when he proposed. Like all girls, she had spent her whole life longing for her wedding day. But she could never have imagined that she would be lucky enough to marry the most perfect man alive. It would be a dream come true for her.

Of course, she had only just moved here, and needed a little time to get settled in, he thought. He could wait. He'd give her a few months to get used to the town, and to get to know him, and then he'd pop the question. Within the year, he would be a married man.

Cheerfully, he headed for the tavern, LeFou following obediently at his side.