Nine Lives - Danielle Steel Page 0,30

hotel an hour later wearing a wide black cotton peasant skirt with sandals, with her dark hair loose on her shoulders.

“You look Italian,” the driver, Luigi, said, smiling at her.

“Irish,” she corrected him. She got into the Mercedes the hotel had provided, and he drove her to famous churches she had read about and seen in photographs, and tiny churches tucked into little squares and backstreets. They stopped so she could eat a gelato. She wanted to drink Rome in and see everything. Being there was magical. She would have loved to share it with someone, but she wasn’t lonely, and for now texting Helen was enough. Everywhere she went, people were friendly and chatted with her, or said hello. She talked to a Canadian couple, a very lively older Swedish woman, and a very attractive Italian man tried to pick her up at a café. She didn’t let him pursue it, but she liked knowing that she could have. The men in Rome looked at her in a way that no man had in years. It made her feel young again, and attractive, and put a spring in her step when she noticed it.

She walked for hours every day and used the car when she needed it. The driver took her to small, out-of-the-way trattorias and restaurants with outdoor seating, where she ate delicious meals and enjoyed watching the people at nearby tables. There was so much to see and do, she didn’t even mind being alone. At night, which was afternoon in Chicago, she called Helen and told her all about it.

“I think Rome is my favorite city in the world,” Maggie told her breathlessly. “If I were younger, I would want to live here.” But it was too late for that. She had a life and a son, except that her life as she knew it had ended nine months before, and her son was going to be living in Boston for four years. Still, she couldn’t imagine just moving to Europe. But visiting was even more exciting than she had hoped.

“You haven’t even seen Paris yet. You’ll never want to come back after that, although Italian men are much bolder.” Maggie couldn’t imagine a city she’d love more than Rome. The music, the street life, the food, the people, even the other tourists she met were interesting and fun to talk to. The city was just chaotic enough to be charming without being overwhelming. Even when she got lost when she went out on walks, she always managed to find her way to the Piazza di Spagna, and the hotel above it. She felt totally at home, and much better at fending for herself in a foreign city than she ever thought she would be. It was an amazing confidence booster. She would never have experienced it in the same way if Brad had been with her. Being on her own forced her to reach out, connect with her surroundings and other people, and she blossomed.

“Why have I never been here before?” she said to Helen one night from her balcony, admiring the night sky of Rome. The world seemed so much bigger from here than in the life she had been living for decades with Brad in Lake Forest. He had kept their life small and safe and controlled, she had never realized before how much more exciting life was in a broader world, and how much she would love it.

“You’ve never been there because your husband was American, and he didn’t like to travel, except to accountants’ conventions. Maybe you’ll find a European next time,” Helen said gently. She had always found Brad very dull, but would never have said that to Maggie.

“There won’t be a next time,” Maggie said, sounding certain of it. “I’ve had my life with Brad. I can’t imagine life with someone else. But I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind living here for a few months or a year.” She hadn’t changed her lifestyle at all since the fortune that had befallen her when Brad died. She felt too guilty to spend it, but for the first time she realized the opportunities she had now that she’d never had before, and this was one of them. She loved the idea of traveling more.

“If you can afford to do that, you should,” Helen encouraged her. “If something happened to Jeff, and the kids were grown up, I think I’d live in Paris for a year. That’s my favorite