Law of Attraction

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “You have no idea—”

  “No? Then why were you quivering? Moaning like a cat on a hot summer night?” She tossed her head, sending her ebony curls over her shoulder. “And why are you sleeping away this glorious morning, corazón? Lucky for you I saved back some of the cranberry cornmeal coffeecake, or it would be gone, gone, gone!”

  Angie glanced out the window, where the clouds and the sea were the same color. “Ten o’clock? How did I sleep so—I’m never in bed this long!”

  “See? Naked, with a hot lover! Best reason in the world for staying between the sheets—or wrecking them, no?”

  This playful exchange reminded her of the question she had to ask of this feisty housekeeper so her doubts didn’t ruin their budding friendship. But how to word it? Elena’s flirtatious grin told her to be direct. To state her case without making accusations.

  “So…have you and Ross ever…?”

  “Done the deed?” A grin flickered over her pretty face. “There was a night, yes, when several people saw us drowning our sorrows. And I went home with him, so several have assumed…”

  Angela held her breath. She wanted the truth, yet she didn’t want Rita to be right about Elena and Ross.

  Elena let out an unladylike snort. “After being slapped around before, I really hoped a nice guy like Ross would think I was…well, attractive. Worthwhile. Even though I was homeless and jobless.”

  Ouch. But those close-to-home circumstances didn’t relieve her doubts about Ross controlling his affections, did they?

  “He was so sloshed that he passed out as soon as he hit the mattress.” Elena shrugged wryly. “I slipped back here. Kept his fantasies intact by accepting his apology the next day, for behaving like such an animal. We’ve been good friends ever since, but never lovers.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Damn! Now that he wants you, chica, I’ll never have my chance!”

  The Latina grabbed her pillow and playfully smooshed it around her face until Angie swatted her away. They were both laughing, thank God, sharing a secret about how guys and their egos would never win against chicks and their tricks.

  “You’re incorrigible!” Angie flung away the covers, totally relieved, and padded toward the bathroom. “I suppose Lenore’s already busy with her day’s plans, and I’ll have to catch up to her. I was hoping she’d go with me to—”

  “She’s in her room. Morning meditations, you know. See you later, corazón.”

  The shower hissed and Angie stepped into the warm water. How did the innkeeper organize her days, make them happen according to her schedule despite all that happened around her? It seemed an enviable life, that of a mystic, if you could simply declare you were in your room, not to be disturbed—

  You can live that life, Angela, said the voice in her head. Lenore honors her priorities. The rest of her day will fall into place now, because she has nourished her self—her soul—first.

  “Do you always have to be right?” Angie muttered, ducking her head under the spray. Yet here in the sanctuary of her bathroom, with warm water flowing over her and no one to insist she be anything other than herself, what kept her from paying attention to her inner wishes? How long had it been since she’d prayed or meditated?

  Her eyes popped open at the thought. These past few days had gone by in such a rush of discoveries and surprises, and before that, Gregg had kept her so off balance, running for cover…But what was her excuse now?

  She rinsed the lather from her hair and cranked the shower knob. Inhaled the steamy sweetness of the chamomile shampoo Lenore had provided, and stood with rivulets of water flowing down her body. “Lord, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve stopped to even thank you for—” A little sob interrupted her whispered plea. And then a voice responded.

  You’re doing fine. I’ve been here all along, and I’m not going anywhere. Take your time, dear.

  Goose bumps rushed over her body. Had He himself just replied? While this voice answered as immediately as the one that had guided her to Harmony Falls, Angie sensed a different presence.

  That’s because you’re in a different mind-set. Ready to listen as well as talk. Most folks are all too willing to voice their demands without waiting for my answer. If you’re going to have a conversation with me, shouldn’t I get a chance to respond?

  A conversation with God? She glanced around the small shower stall and then grabbed a towel. How could she be sure she wasn’t losing it?

  Trust me, dear Angela. You’re finally finding it. Believing in me on a deeper level now. Call me the universe, or call me God, you and I have been connected forever. So—you were thanking me for something when I interrupted. Sorry.

  Angie paused to collect her thoughts. Decided to give this conversation a shot. “You…you must think I’m terribly ungrateful, or rude, or so damn wrapped up in my own—I mean, darn wrapped up—”

  It’s okay. I’ve damned a few things in my day. Invented the concept, after all.

  Angie snickered. Who had ever thought God would have a sense of humor—

  I invented that, too, remember. I love it when you laugh. Makes you become like a child again. So get giggly more often, all right?

  She blinked. Dried herself. What if Elena had overheard her, talking to—whom?

  She talks to me in her own way. And she’s prayed for you, little lamb. Elena’s a wonderful friend, no?

  Angie smiled. “Yeah, she is. And so’s Lenore…and I can’t yet fathom this thing with Kyle Iverson being my father,” she added in a raspy whisper. “And there’s also the issue of Ross believing we’re destined to be more than lovers.”

  You’re finally getting to the good part, so many avenues to explore with so many people now! I’ve never left you to fend for yourself, Angela. I’m all around you, in everyone you’ve men’ tioned and also in those you have yet to meet. And I love being in you most of all.

  Her mouth dropped open. Did God play favorites? Was he teasing her into a stronger mood, or being totally serious?

  It seemed conceited to dwell on such a compliment, so Angie’s mind skipped ahead. “You’re even in Rita? In her highs and lows?”

  Especially in Rita. Lord knows she needs me.

  Angie’s snicker echoed in the shower stall. Who knew God enjoyed playing with words? Teasing? Yet she had no room to feel superior. “I need you, too. Thanks for so many good things these past few days, and for getting me past the yucky stuff with Gregg, and…and please bring me the right words when I deal with Rita later today,” she added softly. “Not to talk trash about one of your creations, Lord, but that woman’s jumping on my last nerve. And she scares me.”

  You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. But it’ll work out. Always does.

  And what did he mean by that? Angie was afraid to even think about it, so she stepped out of the shower. The bed was made and Elena was gone; the face in the mirror, framed by wet, dangly hair still looked familiar; her room was now flooded with sunshine and a gentle breeze played in the wind chimes. All appeared as she expected, yet she’d just stepped out of a direct dialog like none she’d ever experienced: she had talked to God and he’d answered back! She hadn’t made it all up, either—at least not consciously. And it had felt so safe, chatting with him that way.

  Safe? No, it felt fabulous! Angie watched her grin grow in the mirror. Were these little miracles happening because she was in Harmony Falls? Because this seaside town had special powers, as Ross and Lenore had hinted? Or had she simply never accessed her own powers?

  With a last glance at the shower stall, she sighed. The pants and top she’d worn here when she fled Gregg were beyond scuzzy, and so were Lenore’s old jeans. She had nothing else to wear. Yet, when she stepped into the room where colorful rainbows graced the comforter and the walls, a pair of new jeans and a sparkly turquoise top awaited her. So did five sets of matched underwear in flirty colors she’d never dared to buy for herself.

  They were all new. And they were her size.

  “You look lo
vely, dear! Ready to take on the world. Those jeans are so much spiffier than mine.”

  “You should not be buying me clothes,” Angie retorted. Then she sighed. “But thank you. Especially for the undies.”

  Lenore settled deeper into her wicker chair to sip her coffee, her expression speculative. “It would give me great pleasure to provide you such spunky things. If indeed I had bought them.”

  “If you didn’t, who did?” Angie lifted a forkful of Elena’s coffeecake and closed her eyes to enjoy the experience. The cornmeal gave a grainy, satisfying texture to the tangy-sweet topping of cranberries, nuts, and raisins.

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “You could touch this shirt and figure it out from the vibrations, couldn’t you?”

  Lenore chuckled. “I suppose I could, but what fun would it be to know everything? I prefer to live with little mysteries.”

  Angie ate for a moment, aware of how spiky she felt despite a good night’s rest and these new clothes. She’d gone long months without such pleasures, after all. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to challenge you. I just need to know whom to thank.”

  “Ah. I’m guessing—hoping—one of the young ladies I’ve helped has reciprocated by providing for you, Angela. Of course, while I try to teach the concept of joyful giving, some aren’t ready to learn.” The mystic’s smile lit up her face. She looked so serene in her soft white knits; her eyes sparkled and her cheeks bloomed, though she wore no makeup.

  Angie laughed. “I can’t imagine someone choosing more than a hundred bucks’ worth of clothing for me—everything in the right size—out of the sheer goodness of her heart.”

  “I can. And I foresee a day when you’ll do the same, dear. You’re every bit as loving and generous as your anonymous benefactor,” Lenore remarked thoughtfully. “You’ve not been in the position to return many favors lately, but that’ll change soon.”

  Once again the woman’s tone was gentle yet all-knowing, as simple and harmonious as the wind chimes on the balcony above them. Angie mashed her fork over the crumbs on her plate, thinking that lounging here on Lenore’s deck would be a lovely way to spend a Friday.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. “Will you go to Tea and Tarot with me? I’d like to look at the decks,” she insisted, “but Rita also invited me to come for a reading. I already know she’ll interpret the cards to her own advantage, but—”

  “Then don’t go. If that’s what you believe, the cards will reflect it.”

  Was there no way to ruffle this woman’s feathers, to make her understand conflict, and anxiety, and other normal emotions? “She challenged me after last night’s rehearsal, marking Ross as her territory,” Angie admitted with an exasperated sigh. “I was such a doormat for Gregg, I can’t just tuck my tail between my legs or stick my head in the sand and pretend Rita will give him up. I’ve got to learn to fight for myself.”

  “Oh? Why?” Lenore asked.

  “Because I want to live here! And I want Ross! And I’m already sick to death of Rita’s manipulative games.”

  “And you believe you can fight her fire with your own?” Lenore set her empty mug on the table between them, considering. “To catch you up on local history, I’ll tell you Ross’s already-strained marriage to Terri ended when Rita McQueen came to town. They became a much-discussed couple, but once Ross realized she wanted to control everything, including his real-estate business, he knew better than to marry her.”

  “How do you mean, control his real-estate business? What does she know about buying and selling property?”

  “She resented the hours he spent with clients and paperwork evenings and weekends. So she distracted him with phone games and quickies and exotic trips she’d already paid for.” Lenore waggled her eyebrows. “Ross enjoyed such diversionary tactics, because his marriage wasn’t very exciting, but he took a hit in income. Had some issues with title companies and banks because he hadn’t followed up on contractual details. Which, of course, affected his reputation. His credibility.”

  “But that’s history, right? If he drives a Navigator and can afford to rehab those bungalows on Windswept, and if his online numerology business is thriving—”

  “The Internet is a mixed blessing. Great way to reach a global audience, but it’s a huge time suck.”

  Angie blinked. Coming from Lenore, that phrase sounded tacky. Yet the medium knew what she was talking about, even though she seemed to spend very little time online. Matter of fact, Angie couldn’t swear Lenore owned a computer.

  “To answer the question you really want to ask, I firmly believe Ross has left Rita for good. Getting her to leave him is another matter.” Lenore stood and stretched, languid as a cat. “I advise you to practice love and light, dear. A reading from Rita will be an excellent exercise in promoting positive thought, because as you’ve said, she won’t leave town just because you and Ross are realigning your destinies. Shall we go?”

  THEY followed the narrow road toward town in a comfortable silence. As they passed the falls, Angie sensed her mentor was drinking in the morning’s freshness, delighting in bird calls from the dense pine forest, and hearing the whisper of the waterfall’s spray. How did it feel to be so attuned to nature? To know such confidence in the face of the conflict that would fester the moment she entered Rita’s shop?

  Of course, this wasn’t Lenore’s fight.

  As they walked down the main street, past the updated brick buildings, Lenore smiled and said hi to virtually everyone. The locals returned her greetings, while the tourists beamed back as though they’d always known her. Onlookers had speculated about Angie as she walked with Ross the other day, but this morning she felt lucky—blessed, even—to be associated with such a special escort.

  “Goodness, Dale! May I help you hold on to that?” Two guys were carefully lifting a large plate of glass into the center section of the Tea and Tarot’s front display. “Please don’t tell me vandals threw a brick through this window.”

  The older fellow laughed. “Inside job, the way I heard it.” Angie considered this information with a tightening stomach. Did this mean Rita had pitched a fit and then pitched something through her window? The man added, “Better move your hands now, Lenore, ’fore your fingers get caught.”

  Angie and Lenore entered Tea and Tarot, which appeared deserted, and Angie prayed her mentor’s good vibes would surround her with a protective shield if the dialog got dicey.

  “So! You showed up.” Rita emerged from the back room looking decidedly feline in a clingy sweater of deep green. Its matching skirt revealed an alluring stretch of leg in an open seam, while her gold bangles shimmered in the morning light. “Good morning, Lenore. Here to lend Angie a little psychic assistance, are we?”

  The lodge owner smiled benignly. “We’re choosing her first deck. Your shop looks absolutely aglow with so many crystals, Rita. And your incense smells divine. Nice herbal overtones. Peppermint, perhaps?”

  The workmen’s power drill drowned out her reply, so Lenore steered Angie toward the shelves in the front of the shop. Through the door of a separate room, she spotted racks of DVDs, blatant posters of women in leather and stilettos, and an inflated doll with a very round mouth. “You already have the advantage, if you’ll recognize it as one,” her mentor whispered beneath the racket. “You’ve come here as an innocent, and your fresh energy is your best weapon. Not that matters should become adversarial.”

  Angie glanced at Rita. The shopkeeper hugged herself against the repairmen’s racket; thinking no one was watching, she reached into a drawer by the checkout and then popped something into her mouth. Angie suspected it wasn’t a Jelly Belly, even though a colorful rack of those sat on the counter.

  So, how often does she hit her stash, camouflaged by that rack of candy?

  Angie refocused on Lenore, who had selected three different decks. “You’ve responded well to this DruidCraft deck,” she remarked as she held up the boxed set. “But a lot of beginners use this Rider-Waite deck to le
arn the basic meanings of the cards. Then they branch out.”

  “And here’s the Gilded Tarot you have.” Angie leaned down for a closer look at a set that featured fairies, and another one that was a reproduction of an old Italian deck. “It’s the colors that jump out at me from the Gilded cards—”

  “Then you’d probably enjoy these more recent decks,” Rita chimed in as she joined them. She snatched two from the display and quickly ripped off the clear wrapping. “The Bohemian Gothic deck has been a hot seller, and this Deviant Moon set is very arresting, don’t you think?”

  The images Rita flashed disturbed Angie: creatures that were part human and part animal, wearing expressions that appeared diabolical or demented. To avoid having to look at them anymore, Angie took the Bohemian Gothic deck.

  “Vampires and Frankensteins. Creatures of the night,” she mused aloud. “Reminds me of that old soap opera, Dark Shadows.”

  “The new generation of tarot readers delve into their dark sides,” Rita agreed too cheerfully. Her movements seemed quick yet stilted, and Angie noted a shift in the energy around her as though they all rode a merry-go-round that accelerated with each passing second. “But the colors and facial expressions are reminiscent of the Gilded deck. I would die to own a Tarot of Dreams deck by the same artist, but it was a limited edition. Sold out early on.”

  Angie glanced fearfully at Lenore, who seemed oblivious to Rita’s Jekyll-and-Hyde personality switch. The older woman picked up another deck and smiled fondly. “Well, look at this! A Smith-Waite deck commemorating the hundredth anniversary of Pamela Colman Smith. Her artwork has influenced millions of tarot enthusiasts! I have to have this set, Rita.”

  The shopkeeper blinked but then took the box from Lenore. “And what else might I show you? We’ve gotten more of that amethyst you love, in pendulums and crystal balls—”

  “This will be my treat for the day, and I’ll cover whatever Angie selects, as well. I understand you two have arranged a reading, so I’ll mosey along.” Lenore smiled sweetly. “I assume my credit’s still good?”