Moth to the Flame Read Online Free PDF Page A

worrying unduly. Jan had always
    condemned her for being too sentimental. Perhaps now she was in
    love and shy about exposing her deepest feelings even to her own
    sister. After all, as Juliet was forced to admit, they had never been
    close confidantes. Jan had always had her own friends to talk and
    giggle with for hours on the telephone and presumably to confide in
    even before she left home.
    Perhaps, she thought sadly, if I'd encouraged her to trust me in the
    past, I'd have some insight now into what she's thinking. If she
    doesn't love this Mario, if it's all been a terrible mistake, then it
    would be much better not to marry him, no matter how wealthy he
    may be. Even Mim would say that.
    Yet at the same time she couldn't believe that Jan was marrying just
    for the respectability of a wedding ring. Her sister had never
    seemed to care much for such conventions.
    She must love him, she told herself. After all, she's carrying his
    child.
    She was torn from her reverie by the sound of the front door
    buzzer. Rather hesitantly, she walked over to the intercom and
    pressed the switch.
    'Hello,' she said, feeling inadequate.
    'Scusi, signorina.' The answering voice was male and a little
    startled. 'I bring flowers. You open, please.'
    Juliet unfastened the chain and opened the door. Sure enough it was
    a delivery man in a green uniform carrying a long box, filled, as she
    could see through the cellophane which wrapped it, with
    long-stemmed red roses.
    The delivery man was staring at her. 'Signorina Laurence?' he
    asked, producing a clipboard from beneath his arm, and indicating
    where she was required to sign for the flowers. For a moment Juliet
    hesitated, wondering whether she should explain that she was not
    the actual recipient for whom they were intended, but another
    Signorina Laurence altogether, but eventually the horror of having
    to explain the ramifications to someone who clearly spoke only
    broken English convinced her that the easiest thing to do was smile
    and accept the flowers as if they were hers, and she hastily signed
    'J. Laurence' where his finger pointed.
    'Grazie.' He tipped his cap, gave her a look of full-blooded
    admiration and departed.
    Juliet closed the door and stood looking at the flowers in her arms.
    She could see no card to indicate who had sent them, but she
    thought it must be Mario, and that it was odd of him to send them at
    a time when he knew Jan must be out working at Di Lorenzo. But
    at least it was the sort of gesture which gave indisputable evidence
    of his devotion. However, if she left them in the box, they would
    probably be dead by the time Jan got home this evening.
    She hunted round in the kitchen cupboards until she found a
    suitable jar and arranged the roses in it before carrying it through to
    the salotto. There was a small occasional table positioned by the
    window and she lifted it across to stand behind the sofa, and placed
    the vase on it where it could be seen as soon as anyone entered. It
    would be a nice welcome for Jan when she returned, she thought.
    On her way out, she paused at the front door to make sure the key
    Jan had given her the previous evening was safely tucked away in
    an inside pocket of her shoulder bag, and to take one last look at
    the apartment and make sure she had left everything secure.
    As she turned away, the red roses in their flamboyant beauty caught
    her eye. The traditional symbol of love, she found herself thinking
    as the lift carried her swiftly downwards, and that being so, why the
    sight of them should have sent an involuntary shiver down her
    spine, she had not the slightest idea.

CHAPTER TWO
    By the time she was ready to return to the apartment, late in the
    afternoon, Juliet had forgotten her earlier unease in the sheer joy of
    finding herself in Rome for the first time.
    She'd had no difficulty in deciding what to see first. She 'knew that
    Jan would draw the line at ecclesiastical architecture, no matter
    how renowned, so her