Free Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel by Julie Lessman Page A

“La-di-da.”
    Lottie beamed like the sun while Allison’s face felt just as hot. She avoided Miss Penny’s eyes as she hurried out the door. “See you tomorrow, then!” Practically vaulting down the steps to escape, Allison froze midair at the sound of Miss Penny’s voice.
    “Miss McClare . . . may I have a word with you, please?”
    A groan clotted in her throat as she slowly wheeled around. “Yes, Miss Penny?”
    The old woman scurried down the steps, sympathy soft in her gaze. She placed a frail hand on Allison’s arm. “He’s really quite harmless, you know.”
    Allison blinked. “Pardon me?”
    “Mr. Nick, as Lottie likes to call him. Or as the rest of us have fondly dubbed him . . . ,” the blue eyes sparkled with mischief, “Mr. Cranky Pants.”
    Allison grinned outright. “So it’s not just me?”
    “Oh, heavens no! Nicholas is one of the most consistent human beings you will ever meet, Miss McClare.” Her mouth crooked in a wry smile. “He treats everyone poorly at first.”
    “Ah . . . so there’s hope,” Allison said with a soft chuckle.
    The old woman issued a snort. “Not much, mind you, but some.” She cocked her head, studying Allison with a keen eye. “It may help to know, however, he’s made veiled references that lead me to believe he was badly hurt by a wealthy young woman from high society.”
    A glimmer of comprehension dawned as Allison nodded. “So that explains his disparaging remarks about me and my wealth.”
    Miss Penny winced. “Yes, I’m afraid so, including Lottie’s innocent reference to Miss La-di-da. But all grumpiness aside, Nicholas is a good man, more like a son than a boarder and theapple of our eyes, albeit a sour one at times.” Her face softened into a tender smile. “Especially Lottie’s, because other than my nephew, Nicky’s the only man she’s been exposed to.” Her eyes sparked with moisture as her gaze wandered into a faraway stare. “The rest of my girls—ages eight to twenty-two—were abused in some way by men, most in brothels, so you can only imagine how leery they were of Mr. Cranky Pants in the beginning.” A raspy chuckle parted from her weathered lips as they tipped in a sad smile. “But Lottie came to us as a baby when her mother died giving birth, so she had no fear, loving Nicholas unconditionally until he had no choice but to love her back.”
    Allison quietly swallowed the shame in her throat.
    Miss Penny looked up then, the melancholy disappearing in a flash of a smile. “Now he loves all of us, and we love him, so you see, Miss McClare—he really is quite harmless.”
    Allison arched a brow. “Unless you’re a wooden stick, then run for the hills?”
    The old woman’s chuckle floated in the air. “Precisely.” She paused. “He did apologize for his rude remarks and give you the new pointer, yes?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Good. You be sure to let me know if he gives you any further trouble, Miss McClare—”
    “Call me Alli, Miss Penny, please.”
    “All right, Alli. Well, you need to get home, and I need to help with dinner, but if Mr. Cranky Pants steps over the line again, young lady, you have my express permission to whack him alongside the head with that brand-new stick, do you hear?” The old woman bustled back up the steps before Allison could even respond, pausing long enough to shoot a sassy smile over her shoulder. She winked. “After all, three times is the charm.”

6
    H ands clasped to her chest, Allison whirled around to survey her brand-new theater, a warm sense of satisfaction pervading her soul as few things ever had. A lover of the arts like her, Mother had provided the best of everything—from a brand-new baby grand to the newfangled electrical system with dimmers and spotlights overhead. Scarlet drapes flanked a curved oak arch, a perfect match for rows of polished oak folding chairs in the long, narrow room that now occupied half the first floor.
    Prior to the opening of the