The House of Lost Shadows by M. C. Dulac EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: M. C. Dulac
- Language: English
- Genre: Metaphysical Fantasy eBooks
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Berlin was a fine city, Grace O’Hara thought, as she made her way through
the crowds that balmy June day in 1928.
Her white hat was perched jauntily on her golden bobbed hair,
matching her spotless white gloves. The sleek blue dress fitted her slender
figure perfectly and her high heels made her legs look even longer. A
businessman tipped his hat and smiled, and a delivery boy stared and broke
into a gap-toothed grin. Grace was used to that. She raised her chin a little
higher. For Grace as always, was a girl with a purpose.
Grace walked across the plaza to the entrance of the Hotel Adlon. She
strode confidently through the front doors, across the lobby and into the
hotel tearooms.
The head waiter gave her an approving glance as he led her to her
table, then lingered a little too long as he pulled back her chair.
“Gracie,” her fiancé Jimmy had said sullenly, just before she’d got on
the train in Chicago, “You make sure you come back to me, okay? I don’t
want you falling for these European guys, no matter how smooth they are.”
Jimmy had been right about their smoothness. But Grace was a
sensible girl, and tough, despite her angelic exterior. She’d had to be,
growing up in St Thomas’ orphanage in Chicago and then making her own
way in the world. She knew she needed a good man, and Jimmy was a good
man, even if he was a bit rough around the edges. No, there was no
European guy who could make her forget Jimmy.
Except maybe one…
But she mustn’t allow herself to think like that.
There was no sign of her guest. Grace cast a quick glance over the
other people in the tearoom. There were many bejeweled ladies with weary
smiles, dining with tall men with sad eyes. Russians maybe, like the
Russians she’d seen in Paris. They looked so lost, Grace thought. They’d
had to flee their homes after that revolution in Russia. Some of them had
genuine titles and everything, she’d heard.
Her eyes flickered to another table. Now those people were seriously
rich. English, she’d say. They spoke slowly in an accent so clipped she
could barely understand the words. They seemed to be talking about art.
One of the men shot her a superior look. His female companion
smirked. Grace’s face grew red. Underneath her cool exterior, Grace often
felt the presence of the orphan she’d once been.
She could never shake off
the feeling she did not fully belong, that one day she would be caught out,
no matter how far she’d come in life.
The English people had begun to whisper and giggle. Grace dived into
her purse, checking her lipstick in her small compact mirror. As she
regained her composure, she saw the photograph she had slipped inside her
purse.
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