Missing Rose (9781101603864) Read Online Free Page B

news about the heiress of the international hotel group and one of the most prestigious hotels in Rio de Janeiro—“the unfortunate Diana Oliveira”—who had once been the envy of all the young people in the city, admired by everyone, but who eventually ended up as a writer whose books nobody read. Those who would once have given everything to be in her place would pity her, thinking that she’d wasted her life.
    Diana had never told anyone that it was only because she didn’t want this scenario to come true that she’d chosen a career which those around her would approve of. So maybe it was her own fault that her friends didn’t know how she really felt. But hadn’t she tried to tell them about her hopes and dreams? Of course she had.
    Yet whenever she’d tried, they’d judged her. It was as if they knew what was best for her and always swamped her with advice about what she should do, how she should think and even how she should feel. They never tried to understand.
    How was she to face being left all alone in this world, with no one to understand her?
    To still her tired mind, Diana eventually decided to take an evening walk in the park—as she’d always done with her mother.

7
    T HE PARK WASN’T too crowded. To get as close to the sea as possible, Diana walked along the shore.
    Just how many times in the past had she and her mother walked here together? What would she not give to have one more stroll here with her mother? Just one more . . .
    Lost in her memories, she walked for perhaps another quarter of an hour. When she reached the marina with its sailing ships, she turned for home.
    She usually chose to return home by way of a shortcut across the park, mainly because she enjoyed seeing the unusual people along the way: people with hair dyed every color of the rainbow; people with piercings on the least expected parts of their bodies; people with skin so decorated there didn’t seem to be enough room on them for yet another tattoo.
    As usual, the pathway was crowded with vendors of knick-knacks and kitsch, with tattoo artists, strolling musicians and beggars.
    As Diana went past the beggars, she heard a deep voice: “Hey there, little lady!”
    Not sure whether the voice was addressing her, she glanced around, but couldn’t see anyone else who might answer the description. Then she caught sight of an old beggar staring at her. Once more he called, “Hey there, little lady!”
    She had often seen the man with curly gray hair at this corner, sitting cross-legged on a piece of straw matting. What made him different from his fellow beggars was that, although his small black eyes seemed constantly to be searching the crowd for something, he never harassed the passersby. Another difference was that on the corner of his ragged mat was written: “Fortunes told: $9.”
    Diana was surprised; she’d passed by this fortune-telling beggar perhaps a hundred times before, but never once had he called out to her.
    â€œWere you talking to me?” she asked the beggar, pointing to herself.
    â€œYou’re searching for her?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHer!”
    â€œWho’s her?”
    â€œIf
you
don’t know, how come I should?”
    â€œWhat!”
    â€œ
Her
, I’m saying!”
    She shook her head. There was no need to go on with this strange and pointless conversation. Perhaps he had been waiting for someone to play a joke on, or perhaps he was simply testing a new way of attracting the attention of a possible customer. Whatever the reason, it was enough to make Diana decide to walk away as quickly as possible.
    She wanted to continue on her way as though no words had passed between them, but she paused when the beggar called out to her once again: “See here, little lady, I’m ready to tell your fortune for nothing. Come, maybe your luck will tell you where she is.”
    â€œI