[Harlequin] - Catherine George - Brief Encounter (txt).txt

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BRIEF ENCOUNTER
by
CATHERINE GEORGE

MILLS & BOON LIMITED

ETON HOUSE,18-24 PARADISE ROAD

RICHMOND, SURREY TW91 SR

CHAPTER ONE.

The entrance hall of the Villa Bellagio was a highceilinged room with
thin rugs on gleaming wood floors, exquisite wall frescoes and
chandeliers like great bouquets of fragile blossom fashioned from
Venetian glass.  Silver-framed photographs of distinguished visitors to
the hotel stood on a grand piano in the corner, old, fragile porcelain
gleamed from glass cases, and sunshine warm and gold as honey poured
through glass doors open to a shady garden where a swimming pool
glittered like a jewel in its setting of sheltering evergreens.

But the most recent arrival at the hotel had no eyes for the beauty of
her surroundings.  She stared at the receptionist in disbelief.

"My sister isn't here?"

"I regret not, sigriora : The receptionist smiled a little uneasily, and
handed over a letter from one of the pigeonholes on the wall behind her.
"Sophie left this for you, Miss. Maitland.  When you have read it the
porter will escort you to your room."

Olivia opened the letter with foreboding, cold dismay hidden behind her
large sunglasses as she read Sophie's familiar scrawl.

Darling Liv, don't be angry with me for standing you up.  It's only for
a day or two until you get to Pordenone.  I had the chance of a little
holiday with my friend Andrea so I grabbed it.  I know it means leaving
you on your own for a day or two until you get to the Villa Nerone, but
you do thingsqlike that all the time in your work anyway, and I've given
strict instructions to everyone at the Bellagio to look after you,
arrange a trip to Venice-anything you want.  So till Saturday, ciao,
cara, lots of love, Sophie.

Olivia put the note away, managed a smile for the handsome young man
waiting with her luggage, then followed him from the hall through the
open doors, skirting the garden and 'the pool as they made for a
colonnade with stone arches open to the garden on one side, a two-storey
row of bedrooms on the other.  Sophie's absence had come as such a shock
that Olivia felt suddenly weary as she climbed a flight of smooth stone
steps to the upper floor.  The porter ushered her into a large, pretty
bedroom with a view of the pool from its trio of windows, told her tea
was available at one of the tables on the terrace, then smiled with
pleasure in response to her generous tip.  Olivia closed the door behind
him, stared abstractedly at the delightful vista of pool and gardens for
a moment or two, then told herself t9 snap out of it.  Sophie was no
longer a child.  And from her letter she was obviously well and happy,
and would be in Pordenone in less than forty-eight hours.  So for the
time being the obvious thing was to get on with the job and note down
first impressions of the Villa Bellagio.

In her capacity as a senior tour consultant for a specialist travel
agency, Olivia was on an expenses paid research trip to three hotels in
Northern Italy.  This afternoon she'd arrived at Marco Polo airport in
Venice, picked up the car hired in advance from London, and driven from
Venice on the Treviso road to make her first stop at the Villa Bellagio,
where her sister was working as a receptionist during her summer
vacation from university.  Sophie was reading French and Italian, and
had suggested the Bellagio to Olivia as perfect for the discerning
traveller, as well as for a little get together for the two sisters. Too
bad one of us preferred to take off with someone else instead, thought
Olivia wryly.

Postponing notes and unpacking, Olivia brushed her glossy short hair
into shape, decided both her face and her crisp cotton shirt and skirt
would do, and left her room to go in search of tea.  This was served on
the terrace under a striped umbrella at a table with a pink linen cloth
and thin china, where she was provided with pots of hot water, slices of
lemon and a supply of tea bags of flavours varying from English
breakfast to the lesser known delights of strawberry and jasmine In the
warm afternoon sunshine, with the happy shouts of children splashing in
the pool under the eyes of their lazing elders, olivia began to unwind
as she sipped her tea, the shock of Sophie's absence gradually receding.
She was alone at the small cluster of tables, at a time when most people
would be changing for dinner, or still sunbathing round the pool.  Her
professional concentration reasserted itself as she took note of the
statues and the great stone urns filled with hydrangeas like great
globes of coral against the blinding white gravel of the terrace. Sophie
was right, she decided.  Villa Bellagio was a very beautiful place.  And
now she was more in command of herself it was time to do her job and
begin her report on it.

Olivia refused offers of more tea from the hovering in the comments
section of the page, and put her book waiters and went for a stroll
round the pool, smiling away in favour of a long soak in the bath as she
watched a trio of tanned, excited children She was just emerging from
it, swathed in towels, splashing each other under the indulgent gaze of
their when the telephone rang.  She raced to pick it up, then parents.
Although it was early evening by this time, slumped down on the bed in
relief at the sound of her the sun was still hot, and Olivia gave in to
temptation and stretched out on one of the
steamer chairs fa- "Sophie, thank heavens!  Where on earth are y tigued
more by worry about Sophie's absence than"In Florence!  Isn't it a
fantastic place?  You always the journey from London.  The Alitalia
flight had been swift and punctual, with breathtaking glimpses of made
me so envious about it, and now I've seen it glittering waterways and
gilded domes as they de- for myself-the statue of David's just as
incredscended towards Venice.  Nor had the drive to the iblq- q"
Bellagio presented any problems, thanks to Sophie's Never mind David,
broke in Olivia sternly.  Why clear directions.  In fact, Olivia
thought, as she got up didn'h Lu ld mq q o qsbe Yre I left?"  to make
for her room, normally she would be full of O, iv, on c you were coming
anyway, energy at this point.  But it was useless to worry any and this
all happenedqa bit suddenly, so I had the time more about Sophie.
Nothing could be done until their coming to me, and I Il be seeing you
in a couple of, Saturday rendezvous at the Villa Nerone, the next stop
days, so I jumped at the chance.  don' two.  I m fine.  And I'm not
alone."  on Olivia's fact-finding mission.  " ompany of yours So hie?"

When she returned to her room Olivia took out her Who is this c, p

"You'll find out on Saturday-Andrea's very keen notebook and recorded
her impressions on the decor, to meet you.  By the way, I'I'll staying
with Andrea's which was simple but charming, with louvred shutters at
the windows and plain blue covers on the beds family tonight, so no need
to fret.  I've told everyone, which, like the rest of the furniture were
reproduc- at the hotel to treat you like a queen, and make sure tions of
eighteenth-century design.  No air- you have everything you wanqlqs you
wan on to!  conditioning, she noted, but an electronic anti- will accost
you, I promise u mosquito device was provided, and the pretty little
Oops, there's my money gone.  Ciao-" bathroom was generously supplied
with towels and all And before Olivia could ask any more questions the
shampoos and gels and shoe-cleaning sachets the the line went dead.  She
put down the phone slowly, modern traveller expected.  Despite its
general air of not nearly as reassured by Sophie's call as hoped.  Her
antiquity the hotel was scrupulously clean and well- little sister, she
thought, eyes narrowed, was up to kept, Olivia noted in approval; also
the lamps worked something.  But until it was possible to find out what,
and there was a small, well-stocked refrigerator dis- exactly, the only
sensible plan was to enjoy some of guised as a cabinet.  Olivia wrote a
few words of praise the Bellagio's famed cuisine, have an early night
and a good sleep, and spend tomorrow in her long anticipated exploration
of Venice.

Olivia dried and brushed her leaf-brown hair into the cleverly cut
layers which framed her face, then applied a minimum of make-up with
practised speed.  Used to dining alone in strange hotels, she wore her
usual type of clothes, a pine-green silk shirt with a tailored cream
linen suit, and tonight, with the excuse that her eyes felt dry and full
of sand after her intense concentration on the drive from Venice, she
added her dark glasses to counteract an unwelcome feeling of
vulnerability.

This was partly dispelled by her welcome to the dining-room.  The head
waiter, who introduced himself as Carlo, ushered her to a corner table,
where he drew out a chair facing the floodlit garden before handing her
a large menu.  He clicked his fingers and instantly a young waiter
arrived with grissini, the crisp bread sticks Olivia adored, plus a
basket of rolls, a dish of butter and some San Pellegrino water for her
to sip while she made her choice.  Carlo withdrew to let her weigh up
the delights of scallops in the chef's special sauce or a plain tomato
and mozzarella salad to begin, and when Olivia looked up from her menu
she found the tables were filling rapidly, mainly with families and
couples, some of whom greeted her pleasantly as they took their places.

She chose the salad as prelude to Carlo's recommendation of a mixed grq1
of fish, which was quite superb, with sole, turbot, scampi and scallops
as the main attraction.  The fish arrived sizzling at the table in its
own pan, to be filleted and served by Carlo himself, and Olivia ate with
enjoyment, taking mental notes of the simple, exquisitely prepared food,
though disappointing the wait...
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