Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)(6)

Arnold's voice intruded into her musings. She'd almost forgotten she was on the phone with him. Almost.

"Our mutual friend, Nelly Peterson, told me your favorite restaurant is The Wild Fork, so I made a reservation for seven o'clock. Will that work for you?"

Mikki stifled her urge to break the date. She really was being unfair to the guy. He had a nice voice, and Nelly wouldn't fix her up with a guy who was anything less than attractive and interesting. She ignored the thought that attractive and interesting always seemed to hide arrogant and irritating under their onionlike layers of nice clothes and good manners. She could practically hear Nelly yelling at her, Give the guy a chance!

"Yes, dinner at The Wild Fork sounds wonderful, and it is one of my favorite restaurants," Mikki said, forcing her voice to be enthusiastic.

"Great! How about I pick you up at about six thirty?"

"No!" she said a little too quickly, and then to cover her abruptness, she laughed gaily like she'd lost every one of her brain cells. "There's really no need. I live just down the street from the restaurant. I'll meet you there."

"I understand completely. Whatever would make you more comfortable."

Was his tone patronizing?

"That's what I prefer," Mikki said firmly.

"Then it's a date. I'll see you at seven o'clock at The Wild Fork. How will I recognize you?"

Mikki rubbed her forehead, already feeling the beginning of a tension headache. Or was her brain tumor acting up? She seriously hated blind dates.

"I'll be the redhead with the rose in my hair."

Warm laughter filled the phone, surprising Mikki with its allure.

"Well, I definitely won't mistake you for another woman," he said, still chuckling softly.

Hoping he could hear the 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."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said.

"I 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.

"Mikki! 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."

"I'm on it," Mikki said. She was punching phone numbers before Jill finished speaking.

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.

"I 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."

"Let'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.

"Ma'am?" she asked softly, not wanting to startle her.

The woman didn't respond.

"Excuse 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?

"Ma'am!" Mikki tried unsuccessfully to keep the panic from her voice.

"I 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.

"I'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.

"You 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.

"Yes, ma'am," Mikki said stupidly.

"I 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 Sevillana."