Beauty: an Everland Ever After Tale by Caroline Lee

well-frequented as the others. Only a few of us care about botany treatises.” As she described her shop, and his location in it, he saw it come to life behind his empty eyes. She effortlessly spun a description—so unlike yesterday, when he’d asked her to describe herself—without prompting, making him comfortable here, in her domain. He wanted to thank her, but didn’t want to embarrass her. Instead, he addressed the original topic.
    “Well, I appreciate that you created this cozy nook in time for my appointment. I can have Gordy order some replacement chairs, so that you won’t be deprived of your mother-in-law’s finery in your own apartment.”
    “Oh, that’s all right.” Her assurance was a bit too fast. “We’re…” She cleared her throat. “Eddie and I are moving out of our apartment and down into the backroom of the shop. There’s less space there, so I’ll be moving more furniture in here, I’m sure. We’re renting our home upstairs to a lovely couple who are ready for their own space.”
    “That must be hard on the boy.” It must be hard on her too, but he knew that she wouldn’t admit that.
    He was right. “I’m afraid you’re correct.” She lowered her voice, and Vincenzo remembered her son was in the back room. “I’m hoping that taking lessons with you will focus him more, give him an outlet.”
    So he smiled the smile that had charmed dozens of women before her. “I have confidence that he and I will work together well. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
    Another swish of her skirts, and then she said quietly, “I’ll arrange for it, this evening. But in the meantime…” He heard the rustle of paper, and then she began. “ I think the Azores must be very little known in America. Out of our whole ship's company there was not a solitary individual who knew anything whatever about them.”
    Vincenzo rested his head on the back of the chair, and rested one foot on the opposite knee, and let her words sweep him away. Gordy had read him the same book a few years ago, but between his manservant’s brogue and unfamiliarity with the written word, it was nowhere near as pleasant as this. He found himself completely swept up in Twain’s adventure, chuckling at the appropriate times. Mrs. Mayor did her best not to laugh at the funny parts—he could tell by the way her tone of voice changed, that she was trying to hold in her giggles—but it didn’t always work.
    And when her voice got rough from reading, he interrupted to talk about his travels in Europe. He’d never been to the Azores, for instance, but he’d spent a month in Lisbon, and told her all about the people he’d met and the foods that he’d eaten. Her questions were insightful, and told him that while she was well-read, she hadn’t traveled much, so he happily answered them. It felt good to repay her, in some small way, for reading to him.
    And for an hour, at least, he wasn’t a deformed recluse, but a man. A man spending time with a woman that he wanted to charm… but not in the way he’d charmed all of Europe. For some reason, somehow, he wanted her to know him ; not the him that he’d shown his audiences, not the him that had morbidly fascinated women across the world, but the real him.
    It was an odd feeling.
     

     
    Arabella was pleased that she’d taken the time to arrange this cozy nook in the corner of her store. It was something she’d been thinking about for a while; making the store more attractive as a reading location, and conveniently using some of the furniture that wouldn’t fit in the back room once they moved. But having a set appointment with Signore Bellini had been the impetus she’d needed.
    As she’d read, she’d let her mind wander to the pretty things she’d already packed for the move. Her mother’s lace tablecloth would fit well over that little end table, and that chintz lap blanket Milton had purchased in New York would look lovely thrown over that chair. And