Gladly Beyond by Nichole van Read Free Book Online

of the Napoleonic wars, around 1824, I believe. I thought you would enjoy staying in a place full of such rich history.”
    The Colonel stared at me expectantly. Like this little history lesson was supposed to mean something.
    It didn’t.
    Other than to underscore that, yes, the aristocratic world of two hundred years ago had been a much smaller place than many knew. Most anyone who was anyone was related to, or friends with, everyone else in their same social sphere. Like an exclusive high school—jocks, jerks, mean girls, nerds . . . a tight social strata with the rich, popular kids on top.
    I smiled. Professional. Friendly.
    “Yes. Thank you, Colonel, for everything. Especially for a chance to prove I’m the best fit for this job.” I moved to shake his hand. “I look forward to seeing the sketch in-person the day after tomorrow when I take the samples.”
    He clasped my hand firmly in his and then did that old person thing, placing his free hand over our joined ones. Preventing me from breaking the handshake.
    He patted our hands. “I see so much of Adelaide in you. She was a remarkable woman.”
    I froze. Okaaaaay. How did this man know Grammy?
    So far, this conversation had staggered around like a drunken frat boy trying to walk a straight line.
    What next?
    “Yes. I am often told I look like her. I wasn’t aware that you knew my grandmother.”
    Were she still alive, they would probably be about the same age. But the Colonel was the son of a wealthy Kentucky father and British aristocrat mother. Whereas Grammy had been the daughter of poor Danish immigrants living in Boston. Their paths should have never crossed.
    He stared at me, still holding/patting my hand. His palm was surprisingly rough and calloused. The moment stretched well into the range of awkward.
    Then, he smiled. “Allow me to take you to dinner sometime. I would love to talk about Adelaide over a bistecca alla fiorentina .”
    Pat, pat, pat.
    I had seen the huge Florentine steaks before, thick and barely seared. Sushi was the only thing I ate raw. Beef? Not so much.
    And, more importantly, would the Colonel pat my hand the entire night?
    You need this job.
    “Of course.” I kept my expression politely neutral.
    “Excellent! Because I won’t take no for an answer.” He beamed at me.
    The Colonel was still holding my hand.
    I managed a weak smile of my own and, gently, extricated my fingers.
    Assertive men strike two.
    As I clacked down the marble stairs in my boots, I reviewed the odd exchange.
    Well, I mostly tried to convince myself that I was just being paranoid and hyper-sensitive and man-hating.
    The Colonel was a perfectly nice person, and I was reading things that weren’t really there in the subtext of his conversation . . .
    So, you’re the granddaughter of this woman I knew—and possibly liked—a long time ago, and I’ve put you up in the house of a woman who married a wealthy man nearly three times her age. Hey, what do you know? Just like you and me!
    Here, let me pat your hand one more time . . .
    Had the Colonel actually been hitting on me? Or was he just a chatty, perhaps lonely, old man?
    Please don’t let him be pervy, I pleaded. I need this job too much.
    I hit the ground floor and took two steps toward the large wooden front door.
    How would the next few weeks play out? Like being a contestant on Survivor ? The Great Race ?
    A voice stopped me.
    “Just the person I was waiting for.”
    I closed my eyes.
    Nope. Things were shaping up to be The Bachelorette.
    Honestly.
    Pasting on my polite grin, which truthfully was more of a grimace by this point, I turned around.
    “Mr. D’Angelo.”
    “Dante, please.” He stepped out of the shadows at the base of the stairs. A window in the stairwell illuminated half of him. Even that half was huge.
    Whereas I looked down on Pierce and was eye-level with the Colonel, I had to look up, up at Dante. At five ten myself, it takes a lot to make me feel short. But he somehow managed