Miss Polly had a Dolly (Emma Frost #2) Read Online Free Page B

"Yeah, something like
that."
    I found a box of Danish butter cookies and gave
him a couple with his coffee. I grabbed a handful myself and started eating
them.
    "So what did you think of her?" he
asked with his mouth full.
    I swallowed mine and drank some coffee while
choosing my words carefully. "She seemed very nice, actually. I like
her."
    "Actually? You didn't expect to like
her?"
    I shrugged. "To be frank, no. It was quite
a shock at first, and then I guess I reacted with resentment. But lunch was a
good idea. Talking to her made me like her. But I have to say you didn't give
her a fair chance bringing her like that. It wasn't fair towards her. You could
have at least told me about her."
    He ate another cookie and nodded. "Well, I
was afraid you'd be angry, so I thought we should just get it over with."
    I chuckled again. "You're impossible.
You're lucky she still likes you after that stunt. That proves to me she's a good
woman."
    My dad smiled in a strange fashion. There was
something about him.
     Something…like…glowing? Could you say that
about a guy? Well, he was glowing. He was happy and I don't think I had ever
seen him happy before, not like this. It made me a little jealous. I think a
little might be an understatement. Why wasn't I able to make him happy like
that?
    "She's a great woman," he said with
that strange smile on his face. My dad never smiled much. He was grumpy about
work, about his medical clinic when I was a child, he was angry at my mom for
leaving him and moving to Spain the last few years, there had always been
something for him to be moping about. But not now. Now he wasn't even
grumbling. That was very new to me and a little odd when you've become accustomed
to such different behavior. Thinking about it while sitting in front of him, he
had been a lot happier lately. I had just thought it was because of him finally
being able to retire from his clinic and moving closer to his daughter and
grandchildren.
    I smiled with a sigh. "Well as long as she
makes you happy, Dad, then I am too. We should invite her over for dinner and
get to know her a little better. If she is going to be in your life, then we
should make her welcome."
    My dad grabbed the paper and nodded.
"Sounds great, sweetheart."
    His face disappeared behind the local Fanoe
paper where pictures from the TV show Shooting
Star were plastered all over. Shooting
Star was a TV reality show that featured children singing. A little
like X-factor and those kinds of
shows, only for children. It was the biggest talk of the island these days. The
TV show was coming to Fanoe for the first time and everybody wanted their kids
to audition. The show's host was a young guy in his twenties who simply went by
the name of Patrick . He was the
most talked about host in Danish history, a horrible drama queen and
primadonna, but always fun to watch. Especially when he whined excessively into
the microphone in enthusiasm.
     He was the show and most people liked to see the children sing, but they watched it
because of him. He was funny, witty, and very very handsome. And he wasn't
afraid of acting crazy. People never knew what he would do or say next and I
had a feeling neither did the producers. He always did or said something that
created headlines everywhere and made people talk. That made it the most
popular show in Danish television history. Me, unlike most people my age, I
wasn't afraid to admit it. I liked to watch Shooting
Stars and I was definitely going to go down there for the auditions.
Just to see the set-up, I didn't have any children that wanted to do it, but
Sophia did. She had six kids in total and she had managed to persuade two of
them to audition for the show. I was naturally going to be there to support her
and of course, hopefully catch a glimpse of the spectacular host.

Chapter 8
April 2013
    Josephine
Gyldenstjerne knew she was born for greatness. She
also knew children weren't born equal and that she was among the few born to
rule