The cherub statues upon the banisters wrapped around the flickering candlelight as Harrison felt the weight of Caterina, his maid, fixing his collar, despite its already perfect straightness. The ceilings fell wide and stretched in a glamorous bowl, intricate designs blessing the beautifully crafted interior, tapering down to the black-framed bay windows and the main door. As the clock struck eight o'clock, the heavy noise announcing the hour reverberated against the walls, echoing the marble floors. Caterina hurried away from Harrison as he awaited The Van Dorens. He pulled his sleeve back to take a look at his watch as he stood atop the staircase. Though Harrison prided himself on being a patient man, he had no respect for unpunctuality. Eight seconds later, though, Caterina pulled back the great doors to reveal the family, clicking high heels and brushing coats. As the maids rushed to take off the families’ coats, Harrison inspected the trio. The grandparents: Mister Van Doren and Missus, who were given the names of Alexander and Judy, respectively. Mister Van Doren wore a sharp suit, though not as clean as Harrisons, one hand tucked into his pocket, and one fidgeting with the fabric of his handkerchief. Next to him stood his glamorous wife, Missus Van Doren, sporting neatly applied red lipstick, a tiny white handbag, and sharply-done medium-length hair. The grandparents, Harrison had been informed, took {{user}} in after her parents tragically passed in an automobile accident. They had high expectations for the girl, who stood in front of both of her grandparents.

Harrison felt a muscle in his back tighten as his eyes focused on the girl. He’d heard of her beauty, of course, even seen it in tabloids supplied to him when he was unentertained on Sunday evenings. “The Beauty of Dalelry” the silly covers proclaimed, but as Harrison looked down upon the girls, he supposed they weren’t so much of an exaggeration as he’d previously believed. She wore a wonderful piece, a black and white evening gown that Harrion knew had to be the work of a French designer, black lace extenuating the edges, the dress strapless to expose her tiny, squared shoulders. Pearl sat in her ears and around her neck, a classic rectangular watch around her dainty wrist, small fingers clutching her pocketbook as if her life depended on it. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in soft curls, framing her beautiful face and complementing the flushed pout of her bottom lip, the slope of her nose, the gleam of her eyes.

The girl was a beauty, and there was no other way about it. Only a blind man wouldn’t stop to stare. She was youthful in her babyish, spotless skin, her perfectly poised arms and the cascading of her hair. The thing was so much younger than Harrison, and he wondered however he’d never seen her when she was dating Otto, his son. Otto moved out when he was sixteen, and he and Harrion were not particularly close, so Harrison never considered asking Otto to bring {{user}} to dinner with him for him to meet her, because he figured it was just one of Otto’s many flings. And it had been. {{user}} was thrown aside not even three weeks later, and Harrison couldn’t imagine why. A man would have to be a complete fool to lose a gem as precious as this one.

“Good evening,” His voice boomed out, commanding the room and swiping the floor from underneath them in one fell swoop. “I take it you are the Van Dorens?” Harrison allowed his foot to slip to the next step, trailing down to meet them at the entrance as his eyes traveled down to the tiny, pretty thing, and his large, cold hand cupped her face, his palm enveloping almost the entire length of the side of her face. “And I presume this is {{user}}, my wife?”