Read Online Beauty: an Everland Ever After Tale by Caroline Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Caroline Lee
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far more interesting to see the ships and trains than the pyramids and palaces!”
Vincenzo laughed. Not a chuckle, but a deep, booming laugh that startled Arabella with its familiarity and caused Eddie to giggle in response. He laughed? Looking at him, knowing that this man did his best of avoid his neighbors, did his best to appear like a beast…who would’ve thought he’d have such a pleasant laugh? It made him seem…friendlier. Less beastly.
“I’m afraid I’d have to agree with you. I’ve been inside any number of grand palaces, but…” He waved an empty hand in front of his blindfold. “They didn’t look that impressive to me.”
Arabella swallowed her laugh, but Eddie wasn’t so practiced at propriety. He burst into laughter, and Vincenzo smiled. She knew that she should scold her son for poking fun at a person’s disabilities, but when Vincenzo himself had told the joke, and with them being tucked into this imitate, cozy corner away from the outside world and Milton’s rules, it didn’t seem to matter so much.
“Well, young man, I’m glad that we get along so well.”
“Yes, sir. I’m glad that you’re not as—“ At her warning glare, Eddie snapped his lips together and managed to look contrite.
“As scary as I look?” Luckily, Vincenzo’s lips were still curled up on one side, hopefully meaning he wasn’t taking the boy’s insult personally.
“…sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right. While I don’t own any mirrors anymore, I know that I’m not handsome. I can be hard to look at, I’m sure.”
Arabella opened her mouth to deny it, but her son beat her to it. “You’re not that bad, sir. Mother’s rule about being beautiful all the time is a hard one to follow, I think. It’s more fun to just be yourself.”
Vincenzo turned, to face her then, and Arabella felt his missing gaze. She watched his lips thin in disapproval, and wanted to take back her son’s words. Yes, Rule Number One required that she—and her home, her surroundings, her reputation—be beautiful. But to hear a ten-year-old insult one of the basic tenants of her life, and to see this man—this man who wasn’t beautiful—agree, was galling.
“Eddie, I think it’s time for bed.”
He knew he was in trouble; she heard it in his voice, saw it in his down-cast expression. “Yes, Mother.”
But as he stepped towards her, Vincenzo placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Just a moment, son. Your mother has gone through considerable effort to arrange for me to give you some lessons in the use of your father’s violin. Are you interested in pursuing the instrument?”
Oh poot , why’d he have to go and ask the boy that? Didn’t he understand that Eddie wasn’t in charge? She was, and if she wanted him to learn, he would. He might be interested, but he might also say he wasn’t just to spite her, because he was ten and that’s what ten-year-olds did.
But Eddie looked down at the hand on his arm—the fingers that were callused from years of practice—and cocked his head to one side. After a long moment, he finally nodded. “Yes, sir, I think I am. I mean, yes, I want to learn my father’s instrument, but also yes, I think I want to learn from you. If you’ll teach me.”
For the first time, she saw Vincenzo’s mouth, his cheeks, go slack, like he didn’t know what to say. Like he was as surprised as she was at Eddie’s maturity. Nearly a minute went by before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Good. Good.” He swallowed, and she tried not to watch the muscles of his strong throat move behind his beard. “And now, if your mother will excuse you for a few minutes, I have need of a messenger to fetch Gordy from the saloon. Can you do that?”
“The Gingerbread House? Yeah, I know where it is.” Eddie glanced at her, and his eyes widened at her frown. As well they should—why was her ten-year-old so eager to visit that den of iniquity? “That is, if Mother doesn’t mind.”
Well, she
Vincenzo laughed. Not a chuckle, but a deep, booming laugh that startled Arabella with its familiarity and caused Eddie to giggle in response. He laughed? Looking at him, knowing that this man did his best of avoid his neighbors, did his best to appear like a beast…who would’ve thought he’d have such a pleasant laugh? It made him seem…friendlier. Less beastly.
“I’m afraid I’d have to agree with you. I’ve been inside any number of grand palaces, but…” He waved an empty hand in front of his blindfold. “They didn’t look that impressive to me.”
Arabella swallowed her laugh, but Eddie wasn’t so practiced at propriety. He burst into laughter, and Vincenzo smiled. She knew that she should scold her son for poking fun at a person’s disabilities, but when Vincenzo himself had told the joke, and with them being tucked into this imitate, cozy corner away from the outside world and Milton’s rules, it didn’t seem to matter so much.
“Well, young man, I’m glad that we get along so well.”
“Yes, sir. I’m glad that you’re not as—“ At her warning glare, Eddie snapped his lips together and managed to look contrite.
“As scary as I look?” Luckily, Vincenzo’s lips were still curled up on one side, hopefully meaning he wasn’t taking the boy’s insult personally.
“…sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right. While I don’t own any mirrors anymore, I know that I’m not handsome. I can be hard to look at, I’m sure.”
Arabella opened her mouth to deny it, but her son beat her to it. “You’re not that bad, sir. Mother’s rule about being beautiful all the time is a hard one to follow, I think. It’s more fun to just be yourself.”
Vincenzo turned, to face her then, and Arabella felt his missing gaze. She watched his lips thin in disapproval, and wanted to take back her son’s words. Yes, Rule Number One required that she—and her home, her surroundings, her reputation—be beautiful. But to hear a ten-year-old insult one of the basic tenants of her life, and to see this man—this man who wasn’t beautiful—agree, was galling.
“Eddie, I think it’s time for bed.”
He knew he was in trouble; she heard it in his voice, saw it in his down-cast expression. “Yes, Mother.”
But as he stepped towards her, Vincenzo placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Just a moment, son. Your mother has gone through considerable effort to arrange for me to give you some lessons in the use of your father’s violin. Are you interested in pursuing the instrument?”
Oh poot , why’d he have to go and ask the boy that? Didn’t he understand that Eddie wasn’t in charge? She was, and if she wanted him to learn, he would. He might be interested, but he might also say he wasn’t just to spite her, because he was ten and that’s what ten-year-olds did.
But Eddie looked down at the hand on his arm—the fingers that were callused from years of practice—and cocked his head to one side. After a long moment, he finally nodded. “Yes, sir, I think I am. I mean, yes, I want to learn my father’s instrument, but also yes, I think I want to learn from you. If you’ll teach me.”
For the first time, she saw Vincenzo’s mouth, his cheeks, go slack, like he didn’t know what to say. Like he was as surprised as she was at Eddie’s maturity. Nearly a minute went by before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Good. Good.” He swallowed, and she tried not to watch the muscles of his strong throat move behind his beard. “And now, if your mother will excuse you for a few minutes, I have need of a messenger to fetch Gordy from the saloon. Can you do that?”
“The Gingerbread House? Yeah, I know where it is.” Eddie glanced at her, and his eyes widened at her frown. As well they should—why was her ten-year-old so eager to visit that den of iniquity? “That is, if Mother doesn’t mind.”
Well, she
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