Second Chance Girl. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ were...magical. They came from all over the world. A lot were junk and of little use to her, but every now and then there were actual treasures. The rare, the perfect, the unexpected.

      Once a lady in India had sent her eight perfectly matched enamel and onyx buttons edged in gold. Another time she’d received carved wooden buttons that dated back to the fifteen hundreds. Buttons were interesting and dynamic and a surprisingly excellent source of income. Compared to that, all a gazelle could do was eat, sleep and walk around. Still, Carol loved all her animals and Violet loved her sister.

      “I am sorry that Bronwen was hurt and I’m happy she’s pursuing her modeling career. She always wanted that.”

      Carol’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “Shall I send her over to you for tips?”

      Violet did her best to keep smiling. Her sister wasn’t being unkind. Carol had no way of knowing that talking about that part of her past was painful—mostly because Violet always lied about it. Yes, she’d been a model for all of five seconds back when she’d been eighteen. She’d been famous and then it had all gone away. She told herself she was better for the experience and, on her good days, she believed it.

      “My biggest advice would be for Bronwen to cut down on the snacks. The camera really does add ten pounds.”

      Carol laughed. “She’ll be crushed. Maybe I should put my foot down and tell her she’s going to have to grow up a little more before I’ll let her out into the world.”

      “Probably best for both of you.”

      Her sister nodded at the package. “Go ahead. You know you want to see what that English lady sent you.”

      “That English lady? Nana Winifred is the dowager duchess and grandmother to the current Duke of Somerbrooke.”

      “You call her Nana Winifred. It’s hard to be impressed.”

      “She adores me. I’m like family and she sends me buttons.” Violet thought about saying she was happy to wait until after their lunch was finished, but Carol would know she was lying.

      She grabbed the package and ripped off the protective paper before slitting the tape holding the top on the box. She took a deep breath, then lifted the lid and gazed inside.

      Nana Winifred did not disappoint. Nestled in a cocoon of tissue paper were over a half dozen small plastic bags. Each contained a set of buttons.

      The first one Violet picked up held seven green buttons about an inch in diameter. She pulled a pair of white cotton gloves out of a drawer and put them on. Only then did she pour the buttons onto her palm.

      They were carved to look like flowers. Or maybe lotus blossoms, she thought, willing herself to keep calm. She would have to do some research, but her first, best guess was these were jade. Hand-carved jade. Chinese for sure and maybe two or three hundred years old.

      “Those are nice,” Carol said, her tone doubtful.

      “They’re exquisite. Look at the detail. It was all done by hand.” Her heart fluttered. “I’m so excited to see the rest of what’s in there.”

      She returned the buttons to the protective bag, then took off her gloves. “Thank you for letting me get a peek at what she sent. I can wait on the rest.”

      Her sister shook her head. “You’re so weird. They’re just buttons.”

      “I know. Isn’t it great?”

      A half hour later Carol left to go back to work. Violet cleaned the kitchen before heading down to her shop. She turned the sign to Open and unlocked the front door. Confident she wasn’t going to be seeing any customers for the next couple of hours—most of her clients made appointments first—she spread a large cloth over the counter, then opened the package again and began to sort through the buttons.

      There were the jade ones she’d studied earlier, and two sets done in mother-of-pearl. She studied a set of twelve brass buttons—obviously military and a couple of centuries old. She knew at least two New York designers who would jump at the chance to buy them.

      Her front door opened and a tall, dark-blond-haired man with piercing blue eyes stalked into her shop. He looked stern. No, not stern, furious. Under other circumstances, she would have been completely intimidated—only she couldn’t be. Not when she recognized the steady gaze, the firm mouth and the strong jaw.

      Ulrich, Duke of Somerbrooke, might be twelve years older and even better looking—if that was possible—but everything else was just as she remembered.

      In less than a heartbeat, she was that gawky fourteen-year-old again, visiting England with her mother. Violet had been beyond awkward, all long limbs and frizzy hair, with acne and braces. The phrase unfortunate didn’t begin to describe her hideous self.

      Through a family friend, she and her mother had been invited to a summer party by the dowager duchess and there Violet had fallen madly and passionately in love with the young duke-to-be, as she’d thought of him then.

      He’d been all of eighteen and charming. His friends had rolled their eyes when they’d seen her, but not Ulrich. He’d been gracious and lovely and when he’d asked her to dance, she’d thought she was going to die. Right there, in front of the dowager duchess and everyone. Only she hadn’t died. She’d danced and he’d chatted and she’d listened, even as her heart had been swept away.

      Violet couldn’t remember if he’d done all the talking or if she’d managed to cough out a word or two. What she did know for sure was that at the end, he’d leaned close, kissed her cheek and whispered, “You’re going to be a beauty, Violet. Give it some time. You’ll get there.”

      The kind promise had sustained her through six more months of ugly. Then the braces had come off and her skin had cleared up and she’d learned how to tame her hair into gorgeous curls. Three years later one of the most famous photographers in the world had discovered her and claimed her as his muse. What followed had been a disaster, but none of that was Ulrich’s fault. He’d promised her she would get there and she had. And he’d danced with her and kissed her cheek. Seriously, what more could her fourteen-year-old self have asked for?

      Now she stared at the man he’d become and wondered what on earth he was doing in Happily Inc. In her store.

      “Ulrich! I can’t believe it. Did Nana Winifred send you? I just got a package from her and she never said—”

      “Madam, I must ask you not to refer to my grandmother with such familiarity. I don’t know what kind of scheme you’ve hatched to defraud her, but be aware that I’m here to make sure it all comes to an end. I prefer to handle this privately but I’ll have no compunction about involving the authorities. I have friends in the FBI, as well as with the NSA, and I will not hesitate to contact them.”

      His tone was so cold and harsh, she almost didn’t comprehend his words. When the meaning began to sink in, she wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry or throw something at him.

      Regardless, the buttons came first. Violet carefully returned them to their plastic bags, then took off her gloves and looked at the hostile man in front of her. A man who had once danced with her and brightened her entire summer.

      “I liked you better when you were the Marquess of I-can’t-remember-what,” she grumbled. “Now I have СКАЧАТЬ