Second Chances in Chianti (Escape to Tuscany Book 2) by T.A. Williams (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📗

be born with a pretty face but to resist the temptation to believe that her appearance was all that counted. She had had a few relationships while working in the US, culminating in the ill-fated liaison with Richie, but none had lasted. Back in the UK, she had found herself, time and time again, having to come to terms with the fact that potential boyfriends were actually more interested in hooking up with Polly the good-time girl than Alice the postgraduate researcher, and this had destined each of these fledgling relationships to a hasty conclusion. Finally, she had met David and, in him she felt she had found somebody who was prepared to accept her as Alice, not the infamous Polly.

Today at the job interview, she soon realised her face and her fame were going to be working against her yet again.

She was interviewed in the formal boardroom of the long-established auction house, situated above the main salerooms overlooking the Thames. There was a hushed, solemn feel to the place and the oak-panelled walls were hung with oil paintings of austere moustachioed gentlemen – but not a single woman. She found herself sitting in front of a daunting panel of three: two men and a woman. The fact that the latter bore a passing resemblance to Zoë, the short-tempered director, did little to reduce Alice’s nerves.

The problems started almost immediately: the silver-haired chairman of the panel, whose surname was the same as the famous auction house, homed in on her lack of previous experience in the field, and she explained that before completing her degree and doctorate she had been an actress. It was quite clear that this imposing elderly gentleman had never even heard of the show, let alone seen her in it, but the same could not be said about the two people flanking him. The woman was the first to pick up on it.

‘Just how serious are you about making a career in our company, Dr Butler? We’re looking for a professional, not a dilettante.’ There was definite disapproval in her voice.

Alice did her best to assure them that she was keen on this as her future profession, but she sensed considerable scepticism. The intense-looking younger man on the left then revealed that he not only knew who she was, but was also familiar with the show and with the vicissitudes of Polly the flirt.

‘We have to make it absolutely clear, Dr Butler, that there’s no place in this company for a flibbertigibbet.’

Alice stopped and stared. Although she was sitting in such austere and historic surroundings, she hadn’t been expecting equally ancient vocabulary. In fact, his choice of such an archaic word actually helped and she found herself smiling back at him.

‘I can assure you that I am no such thing. The fact that my previous career was in television doesn’t need to concern you, and you certainly shouldn’t make the mistake of believing that my on-screen character is who I am. That’s all in the past. My academic results and the comments of my referees should make it clear to you that I know how to work hard and I’m good at my subject.’ Drawing upon her years in Hollywood, she accompanied this retort with just the right amount of fire in the glare she gave him and was delighted to see his cheeks flush.

‘I’m sorry, I’m certainly not trying to downplay what is indeed an excellent academic record, Dr Butler.’ He sounded decidedly flustered now. ‘And I apologise if my words gave offence. That was not my intention.’ He looked positively contrite.

Allowing her glare to soften, Alice transferred her attention to the elderly gentleman in the middle of the panel. ‘I really am good at my subject and it would be an honour for me to work for such a household name.’

This appeared to hit the spot and by the end of the first part of the interview she felt pretty confident that she had both men on her side. As for the woman, she wasn’t so sure. Alice was probably twenty years younger than her and the thought crossed her mind that she might even be jealous of a younger colleague – especially one whose face was still known the world over.

As they embarked upon the second part of the interview – what they referred to as the ‘practical’ – Alice was given the chance to prove her worth and she took the opportunity with both hands. They led her across the room to where two easels had been set up and shrouded in dark cloths. The covers were removed to reveal two identical oil paintings – at first sight. Both depicted a woman, wearing an intricately woven and embroidered brocade dress. Alice felt a shiver of real excitement. This was what her years of study had been leading up to. She glanced back at her interviewers.

‘Here are two versions of the same painting. I assume the idea is that one is authentic and the other a fake.’

Nobody contradicted her so she studied them more closely. She was pleased to see a magnifying glass lying on a side table, so she picked it up and used it to study them both in more detail. She took her time and waited until she felt sure, before giving her verdict. Her three interviewers were standing close by, watching her intently. The woman had a little superior smirk on her face that gave Alice just enough stimulus to subject her to a steely stare as she replied.

‘The portrait is fairly typical of Renaissance paintings of the first half of the sixteenth century; Florentine School, pretty obviously, and supposedly the work of Bronzino, I assume.’ She turned towards them and took a deep breath. ‘The fact is, however, that they’re both fakes – the one on the left considerably better than the other, but without question still a fake.’ She was delighted to see an expression of surprise replace the smirk on the woman’s face, while the two