Authors: Nichole Van
“But Grammy always said it was a legacy from a distant cousin . . .”
He fixed me with his blue eyes. Shrugged. “Adelaide and I met. Chatted. I asked to know the truth about your father’s parentage. She refused to confirm or deny. She felt your grandfather was Tom’s father in every way that mattered. She made me promise to drop it. So I did, for years. But after Adelaide’s death . . . well, I wanted to know you so badly . . .”
“You staged this whole audition thing just to meet me?”
“Yes. I was going to tell you that night at dinner, but you seemed so concerned over the portrait of me with Adelaide. Anyway, now you know.”
I gasped, trying to keep my crying polite.
I don’t know why it meant so much to me. But it did.
I had a . . . grandfather. A living one. Someone tied to Grammy.
It was almost like getting her back.
It took only ten seconds for my crying to go from polite to ugly.
I pushed off the couch and let the Colonel wrap me in his arms.
“I would like to keep you in my life, darlin’. I never got a chance to know my son. He was gone before I even realized he existed. But I would definitely like to get to know my granddaughter. Will you accept a lonely old man as a friend?” The Colonel’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
“Y-yes,” I hiccupped. “B-but only if I can call you Gramps.”
He pulled me to him. Fierce.
“Ah, there’s my girl.” He tucked me close, smelling of aftershave and peppermint. I lapped up every second of it.
I pulled away from him only after leaving an enormous wet spot on his shoulder.
“Wow.” I wiped my thumbs under my eyes. “I’ve cried more in the last few days . . .”
Dante stood up and hugged me, obviously not wanting to be left out of the loop.
“Would you be willing to stand one more surprise?” the Colonel asked.
I smiled and nodded.
He led us through to the formal dining room. A white sheet spread out on the table.
A familiar drawing on top of it.
“Oh!” I clutched Dante’s arm, torn between laughing in glee or staring in astonishment. “You have it. I mean, of course, you have it. But . . .”
“It’s beautiful,” Dante said.
I stared down at the drawing. A little smaller than Caro’s copy.
This one was on paper. Done in a mixture of silverpoint and chalk. Detailed. Shaded. One corner very slightly charred.
Caro had made an excellent copy. But this . . . this breathed the master’s hand.
“May I?” Dante gestured toward it.
“Please.”
Gently, Dante touched just the very edge of the paper. Eyes glazing with concentration.
“What an amazing talent,” the Colonel whispered at my side.
A second later, Dante stood upright. Turned with a smile.
“I’ve always said Michelangelo was as talented as he was ugly.”
I laughed as the Colonel clapped his hands in delight.
“I think this calls for a celebration!”
It did indeed.
Epilogue
Claire
I
’m still trying to understand how something—which began so empty—ended so full.
Sometimes, you just have to accept the happiness that comes your way.
I arrived in Florence so alone it hurt. A vast well of . . . nothing.
But in the end, I acquired not only a grandfather, but the other half of my heart and his family menagerie.
I had learned one more truth from Grammy:
A soulmate will load your fear on his
own
back and hold your hand through the dark, leading you into the light.
Only those who truly love you have the power to heal you.
The sun was out, cheery and sunnily Italian, threading through the vines overhead as we ate lunch on the rooftop terrace of the D’Angelo palazzo.
We were eating Mexican food—because, hey, Taco Tuesday—and, as Judith eloquently put it, a true American can only go so long without chips and salsa. #Truth.
The Colonel—Gramps—flirted shamelessly with Nonna. Turns out he knew a little Italian himself. Though Dante said it was more sailor-raunchy than polite.
Given how much Nonna laughed, I don’t think she minded.
I was living with Gramps now in his villa. Yes, I was cataloging his enormous art collection along with Dante and Branwell.
But my job was secondary to my role as the Colonel’s granddaughter. We laughed, drank bourbon together and cheated shamelessly at poker.
It’s a gift . . . when Fate brings two lonely people together.
But, then, my life was full of gifts.
Earlier in the week, I had asked Dante and Gramps to take a pilgrimage with me to the Palazzo Vecchio in downtown Florence.
I handed my camera to a passing tourist who kindly snapped our picture.
The three of us together. Me in the middle with Dante and Gramps leaning in from each side. All grinning in front of Michelangelo’s
David
. Ethan in his top-hatted glory resting against the statue base behind us. A faint smile on his lips.
Dante had the photo framed the next day. It now sat on my nightstand. Next to the picture of me and Grammy in the same place all those years ago.
Today, I relaxed at the lunch table, downing delicious carnitas swimming in fresh salsa and avocado. I probably would have fallen sooner for Dante had he wooed me with his amazing culinary skills.
Chiara talked about her latest dating fiasco. (Alessio. Hot. Soccer player.) Judith mentioned Sister Floozy had finally healed enough to fly away. I pinched my lips shut whenever Branwell held his hand for silence. I broke off tiny bits of bread for Boney as he scampered up and down the table. I worried with everyone over Tennyson, still living alone outside Volterra.
As lunch wound down, I slipped out of my chair to stare over the rooftops of Florence toward the Duomo. Light caught the gleam of tourists’ cameras atop Brunelleschi’s lantern dome.
“Mmmm, I was wondering where my gorgeous woman had gone off to.” Dante slipped his arms around me, pulling me back against his chest. He nuzzled my neck.
I sank into him. Reaching back to run my fingers through his hair.
“I adore you, you know,” he whispered into my ear.
Every time I thought about how close to death we had been . . . I would never take a second of my life with this man for granted.
So what was I waiting for?
I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on tip-toe so I could press my nose against his.
“This is probably way too soon,” I began. “And we haven’t known each other as Dante and Claire for too long . . . but, I just wanted to say . . .”
“Yes?”
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Claire?”
“I love you, Dante,” I breathed. “I love you and Ethan and Edward and all the other men you have been to me.”
“Darling.” He crushed me to him. “I know how you avoid that four letter L-word.”
“I know it’s too soon, but—”
“I love you, too,
carissima mia. Con tutto il mio cuore
,” he murmured against my lips. “I love you with all my heart. To the edge of doom.”
“And beyond.” I kissed him.
“Gladly.”
Extra Goodies
O
kay, so I don’t normally include an index to my afterward pages, but this book has more than my usual notes. So click below to jump to anything that looks interesting.
Reading Group Questions for
Gladly Beyond
Alternate Prologue for
Gladly Beyond
Schiacciata
Lemon-herb Chicken
Excerpt from
Intertwine
, House of Oak Book 1
Other Books by Nichole Van
The Brothers Maledetti
Gladly Beyond
(Dante and Claire)
Branwell D’Angelo’s (as yet unnamed) story coming in Fall 2016
The House of Oak Series
Intertwine
(James and Emme)
Divine
(Georgiana and Sebastian)
Clandestine
(Marc and Kit)
Refine
(Linwood and Jasmine)
An Invisible Heiress
(a novella included in the
Spring in Hyde Park
anthology)
If you haven’t yet read
Intertwine
, book one in the House of Oak series,
click here for a preview.
Author’s Note
A
s usual, when writing a story set in the past, I have incorporated select aspects of history and then blatantly made up others. Though, be warned, there are (minor) spoilers in here.
First of all, let me express my appreciation for the entire country of Italy—Tuscany in particular and Florence most specifically. Outside of my current home state, I’ve lived more of my life in Florence than anywhere else in the world. Every time I visit, it feels like coming home.
Firenze, carissima mia, ti voglio un saccone di bene!
Because of my deep love of all things Tuscan, pretty much every place I discuss and describe in this novel actually exists. The only things I made up are the Colonel’s residences and the D’Angelo family palazzo.
Everything
else is a real place where you can visit and/or stay:
The Duomo and its exterior baptistry, Santa Croce, the Mercato Nuovo with its bronze
porcellino
, Chiesa di Santa Margherita (Dante Alighieri’s ancient church), Piazza della Signoria, Ponte Vecchio, Ponte di Santa Trinità with its enormous statues, San Miniato al Monte, Piazzale Michelangelo, the Certosa, the abbey church of San Savino in Cascina . . . all of them are decidedly real and lovely places to tour.
This also includes Claire’s hotel, Palazzo Alfieri. (Yes, it’s actually a high-end luxury hotel in the same building where Vittorio Alfieri and Louise, Countess of Albany lived. It also housed the British Consulate until 2011.) Even the incredible gelateria—Festival del Gelato—where Dante and Claire have some gelato is a genuine place.