Goddess of the Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

answering smile in her voice, Mikki said, “That’s the idea. And I hope you’re as charming as your laugh. I’ll see you at seven.”
    â€œI’m looking forward to it,” he said.
    â€œI am, too.”
    She hung up and smiled at the phone, realizing that she really was looking forward to meeting the man behind the voice. She was still smiling when her boss, Jill Carter, rushed out of her office.
    â€œMikki! Call all the other directors’ assistants. There’s been a major accident on the BA Expressway. A bus filled with senior citizens on their way to Vegas rolled. They’re bringing old people in here in droves. We’ll need all the hands we can get to process them.”
    â€œI’m on it,” Mikki said. She was punching phone numbers before Jill finished speaking.
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    Three hours later the ER still resembled a geriatric battlefield, but at least Mikki thought it was finally beginning to seem like the hospital staff was on the winning side.
    â€œI think the only ones who haven’t been processed yet are those two little old ladies over there.” Patricia, executive assistant to the director of security, nodded her head at the far corner of the ER waiting room.
    Mikki sighed. “I’ll take the lady in the red skirt if you take the one in the orange polyester pantsuit.”
    â€œLet’s do it,” Patricia said, already heading to her charge.
    Mikki nodded. Man, she was tired. She felt as old as the ancient grandma she was approaching. Reminding herself firmly that even though she was tired and stressed, she hadn’t just been through a bus accident, Mikki plastered a friendly smile on her face. The old woman’s eyes were closed and her head was tilted back against the sterile tile of the ER wall. Her wealth of silver-white hair was caught up in an elegant French twist, and up close Mikki realized that the long, full skirt was made of rich-looking cashmere, as was the matching sweater. A thick, iridescent strand of pearls hung almost to her waist, and elegant pearl drops decorated her ears. A white silk scarf was wrapped around her left hand. The middle of the scarf was stained brown with dried blood.
    â€œMa’am?” she asked softly, not wanting to startle her.
    The woman didn’t respond.
    â€œExcuse me, ma’am,” Mikki said a little louder.
    Still no response.
    A horrible sinking feeling nested in Mikki’s stomach. What if the old lady was dead?
    â€œMa’am!” Mikki tried unsuccessfully to keep the panic from her voice.
    â€œI am not dead, young lady. I am simply old.” The woman’s voice was husky and attractive, rich with a soft, rolling accent. She enunciated the syllables of each word carefully.
    But she didn’t open her eyes.
    â€œI’m sorry, ma’am. I—I, uh, I didn’t think you were dead, I just thought you were asleep. It’s your turn. I can take your insurance information now.”
    She opened her eyes, and Mikki blinked in surprise. The old woman’s eyes were startlingly clear and a vibrant, deep blue. If hope had a color, it would be the blue of the old woman’s eyes, and Mikki was struck speechless by their beauty.
    The deep, soft lines at the edges of the woman’s eyes crinkled as she smiled.
    â€œYou should try to always tell the truth, my dear. You are a dismal liar. But do not fret. I am most certainly alive—for the moment.”
    She held out the well-manicured hand that was not wrapped in a scarf, and Mikki automatically took it, helping the woman to her feet.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Mikki said stupidly.
    â€œI have always thought that the title of ‘ma’am’ should be reserved for young women who desire to appear older, or old women who have given up on life. I am neither. I prefer signora, the title Italians give their women. It sounds so much more interesting, does it not? But you may call me