The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) by Becky Riker Page A

have no other skills and there is very little employment of this type.”
    The French man smiled and pulled a card from a pocket in his suit coat, “If you should ever find yourself jobless, let me know. In fact, if you want to come with me when I leave on Friday, you’re more than welcome.”
    Karlijna took the card and pocketed it, but shook her head, “No, thank you,” she laughed, “it would not be an easy job, working for you.”
    He threw back his head and roared, “Indeed, it would not. This I have been told before.”
    Karlijna sat silently. Eventually his mirth diminished and he returned his attentions to her. He eyed her closely and leaned forward in his chair.
    “You do not look French.”
    “I am not.”
    He leaned back again and folded his arms comfortably across his chest, “Where did you learn to speak French so well? You have little accent.”
    “I learned as a young child,” she did not resent this interrogation, but she wondered to what end it was.
    “You are Belgian?”
    “Yes,” she was impressed he had deducted this.
    “Some of your inflections give you away.”
    Karlijna smiled and nodded, but didn’t give any more information.
    “I would have guessed German,” he continued, “but I think you would not be in Sweden right now in that case.”
    Karlijna felt he was getting too p ersonal. She rose, “Have you any more need of me, Sir?”
    He scowled, “Oh, sit down, girl,” the man actually reached out to pull her back to her seat, “I won’t pry into your affairs anymore.”
    Uneasily, Karlijna sat down.  She did not offer any more conversation and would have been content to sit and await further instruction if it hadn’t been for Mr. Beauchamp’s eyes on her. That fact and the long silence made her not a little uncomfortable.
    It had also drawn Mr. Sodergaard’s attention, “Is there a problem, Karlijna?”
    “No,” she answered automatically.
    Mr. Beauchamp rose, “I’ll be going to bed now.”
    Karlijna interpreted for Mr. Sodergaard’s sake and the men bade each other a goodnight. She kept her seat, not looking at her employer until the other man was out of earshot.
    “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Mr. Sodergaard,” she began without preamble, “but it would be simpler for me if I did not have to interpret personal conversations between your sister and your associate.”
    Mr. Sodergaard moved to a chair closer to her, “Why?”
    The girl tried to hedge, “ I thought my purpose here was for business.”
    Mr. Sodergaard frowned at her, “And my sister is here because your being able to accomplish this purpose is dependent on her presence,” he raised his eyebrows. “It isn’t like you to shirk duties, whether they are yours or not. I’ve caught you in the kitchen helping the cook.”
    Karlijna knew she was going to have to explain her position if the situation was to improve, “Sir, your sister asks Mr. Beauchamp personal questions.”
    “Ah,” her employer interrupted before she could finish her complaint, “they are having delicate conversations, and it embarrasses you.”
    The girl almost groaned w ith his misunderstanding, “No. The topics aren’t intimate, just personal and Mr. Beauchamp doesn’t care to be questioned about his personal matters.”
    Though he has no issues with questioning others.
    “He has told you this?” Mr. Sodergaard’s look told of his disbelief.
    “No, sir.”
    “Then how do you know?”
    “His responses are,” she searched for a polite word, not wanting to offend, “somewhat harsh, sir.”
    “Harsh?” the man shook his head, “How so?  Has he told her to stop questioning him?”
    “No, sir. That would be gracious compared to some of the things he has said.”
    “Wh y haven’t I heard any of this? All I’ve heard has been polite.”
    Karlijna tensed, “I’m afraid I have not been translating everything quite accurately, Mr. Sodergaard.”
    “Let me be certain we are speaking clearly,” the man rose