The Juliet Club Read Online Free PDF

went.” He looked pleased at the thought. “Sad, really.”
    They had reached another flight of stairs. Her father eyed it with the look of a mountain climber who can see the summit but isn’t at all sure he can make it. “Ah, another floor?”
    â€œSi, si!” Maria made an energetic gesture toward the heavens, smiling maliciously. She was obviously ready to sprint up four more flights, carrying a suitcase or two if necessary.
    â€œLovely,” he said. “But perhaps we could stop for just a moment . . . jet lag, you know. . . .”
    â€œIf you’d set your watch to Italian time as soon as we got on the plane,” Kate said, seeing an opening, “and if you’d worn that sleep mask so that you weren’t awake all night—”
    â€œYes, yes, yes,” he said testily. “I’m sure that if I had done all that I would now feel fresh as a daisy, but I didn’t and I don’t!”
    They staggered up the stairs to the next landing, where he halted, mopped his brow, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. He spotted a series of old black-and-white photos hung on the wall and pointed to them with feigned interest. “Are these family, then?” he asked Maria. “La famiglia di Professoressa Marchese?”
    The elderly woman spared the photos one scornful glance, then hit the floor with her cane. “Morto!” she cried, pointing to a stiff portrait of a man in a three-piece black suit. Her face lit with glee that seemed to say, He is dead and I am not!
    As she led them down the hall, she lifted her cane and pointed to one photo after the other as she cried triumphantly, “Morto! Morto! Morto!” Dead, dead, dead!
    Finally, after walking past a half-dozen more rooms, this morbid march ended and they came to a halt. The woman opened two doors, one across the hall from the other, and gestured that they should take their luggage inside.
    â€œOh, our rooms at last!” her father said with relief. “How delightful.”
    As her father entered his bedroom, Kate blearily wheeled her suitcase into her own. It was a large room with high ceilings and tall windows covered with green velvet curtains. There was a four-poster bed draped with rich tapestries and an ornate mirror hanging over a marble fireplace. Kate wandered over to peer at her reflection. It wavered in the dim green light so that she seemed to be floating underwater.
    There was a knock on the door, and she turned to see her father leaning against the door frame as if only that support could keep him from sliding to the floor from exhaustion. “I think I might need a tiny nap before we go out to see the sights,” he said, blinking owlishly at her.
    â€œYou know, the latest research shows that it’s helpful if you try to stay awake until your normal bedtime.”
    He just made a noise in his throat, like a discontented bear, and waved one weary hand as he disappeared. Kate went into her bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Apparently, the bathroom was shared with the bedroom next door. Someone had scattered lipsticks, lotions, gels, conditioners, powders, eye shadows, curlers, bobby pins, hand creams, manicure scissors, facial scrubs, and moisturizers next to the sink.
    Kate shook her head at the sight as she virtuously unpacked her own bathroom kit: toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, one lip gloss (pink), one eye shadow (sand), and one mascara (brown).
    She brushed her teeth quickly and wandered back to her bedroom, thinking fuzzy thoughts about how glad she was that she had followed her anti-jet-lag regimen to the letter. That’s why she still felt so . . .
    She stifled a yawn.
    . . . so completely rested and refreshed. Kate stacked her Italian dictionary, several guidebooks, and a history of Italy neatly on a table, then stretched out on her bed and began flipping through one of the guidebooks. As she found the section on Verona, she