I motioned for Roger to follow me to the space I had set up next to my office. The room was something of a storage area, but I kept some of the stock arranged in a more visually appealing way, just in case I had to do a reading or a séance back there. With all the candles, candleholders, cauldrons and gazing balls, and the shelves lined with purple Christmas lights, it had its own genuine mystical atmosphere.
“Ladies first.” He waited for me to sit down.
I shook my head. “Not this time. Guests first.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but I held my hand out in the direction of the chair. “House rules, babe.”
He obeyed and sat down.
I lit a candle and began shuffling my Tarot deck.
“Why cards?” Roger asked.
“Why not?”
“I’d rather you read my hands.”
“Fine.” I set the cards to the side. I’d hoped to avoid a palm reading since I didn’t want to make physical contact with him and potential send my senses – or hormones – spinning.
I did my usual pre-reading ritual of anointing my palms with oil. I motioned for him to hold his hands out to me, palms up, and rested my palms on his. His hands felt nice and warm, and I enjoyed a small thrill from the physical contact.
I didn’t get any sense of Ivy’s presence. That was a nice change. Was it because he was distracted by me at this moment, I wondered, or was he distracted by Heather? Once I thought of the latter scenario, I felt some irrational anger begin to seep in.
“What do you see?” Roger asked. “Or feel? How does this work?”
“It’s a bit of both, actually. I see you’ve traded one companion for another,” I murmured.
“What does that mean?”
I ignored the question, instead closing my eyes and breathing in, as I tried to focus. I had a hard time concentrating. He had on just a touch of cologne that I found very pleasant. It mingled well with his natural scent. I also had difficulty focusing because I felt annoyed that he was out on a date. Part of me knew that Heather’s sister had set it up because she wanted to go out with Wyatt, but reason wasn’t winning out so much on this day.
“Do you see anything?” Roger pressed.
“Not yet. Concentrate.”
“I can’t. You smell too good.”
“You’re on a date. She’s no more than a dozen feet away.”
“Wyatt begged and badgered me into it.”
“A likely story.”
“He really did. He said his girl insisted on a date for her friend or her sister. One or the other. He said his date was this smoking hot blonde with giant boobs and they needed a fourth for a double date.”
“And?”
“When he described the blonde, I thought he was talking about Vanessa. I hoped the friend was you. Plus he added that I’d have a real shot at talking to a girl I was interested in seeing, so I got hopeful. He wasn’t entirely wrong. About me talking to the girl I want to talk to, I mean.”
“Yeah, right.” I liked hearing that, but I remained a bit doubtful. Even if he was hoping the friend of the well-endowed woman was me, he still was out with Heather.
He gave my hands a squeeze, holding them firm, pressing his thumbs into my palms, and massaging them. I looked him in the eyes.
“You know,” I started, “you’re massaging my Mount of Venus.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I like the sound of it. What happens if I keep rubbing it?”
“You’re a bit fresh there, aren’t you?”
“You started it with your talk of mounting Venus.”
“I said Mount of Venus, not mounting, and you know it.”
“I don’t regret mishearing that, considering where my imagination started to go. I also still contend that you started it.”
“So I did.”
“What happens if I keep at it, though?” He pulled one hand closer to him and held it in his as he traced lazy circles in my palm with his index finger. Soon it started traveling, slowly, gently tickling as he made his way up my arm. I wanted to go cross-eyed, the tension was so tantalizingly good. Instead I jerked my hand back.
“I think – ” I paused, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. His eyebrows raised. I knew he hoped I’d say something saucy. Instead, I continued, “ – if you continue doing that, your date will be angry.”
His face fell. “That’s no fun.”
“If you want sexy talk or flirting, come in here solo,” I snapped. “There’s your reading. Have a good night.”
“C’mon, Poppy. I’m only on this date because Wyatt insisted. And I’d hoped she was you.”
“Instead of listening to him go on about huge boobs and hot blondes, maybe you should have cut in with a question or two about the girl or her friend or sister.”
Roger rubbed his eyes with his hands and let out a long sigh. “Trust me, I do not want to be out with this girl. But I agreed to it, and I’m going to be nice for a couple hours and then go home. Alone. Hopefully we can start over on some other day.”
Deep down, I was hoping that, too, but I was still annoyed to see him out with another girl.
In the meantime, I noticed the smell of his cologne was vanishing and being overtaken by notes of Love’s Baby Soft. Great. I felt anger gnawing at my nerves.
“I’m glad Wyatt is the power player in your brotherly relationship, then. It gives you less time to make decisions.”
“Less time to make decisions?”
“Yes, so you can moon over your dead sister.” Oh shit, had I just said that? I regretted it the moment the words tumbled from my mouth. “Roger, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He started to get up, purposely not looking at me. “No, you have a point. About the dating. I shouldn’t be hitting on you when I’m out with another girl. That’s not right. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring up my sister.”
I tried to apologize again, but he wasn’t listening. Finally I reached out to him, before he could leave the room, clasping his forearm. “Please listen, for just one minute. Please.”
He stopped and looked at me, his icy blue eyes sparking with anger.
“I liked flirting with you, but I’m … to be frank … I’m jealous that you’re out with Heather.”
His eyes still looked cold, but more receptive. “Why bring up Ivy?”
“I really don’t know. Sometimes I’m mouth before mind.” Then I thought, why not just be honest. Really honest.
“And also, because I’ve seen your sister. Recently. I can see ghosts. When she realized I could see her, she asked me to tell you she loves you, but she wishes you would let her go, so she can move on to wherever it is she needs to go, and so you can move on with your life.
“I think you know I’m telling the truth, deep down,” I continued. “Remember the other day? Where I mentioned her perfume and the Roots sweatshirt? I’ve really seen her, and she really wants you to let her go.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You don’t know the whole story.” His voice was tinged with danger. He was drawing a line, letting me know not to cross it.
“Whatever it is, she isn’t holding anything against you. She wants you to move on. She wants to move on. She’s trapped in your grief.”
The scent of Love’s Baby Soft and carnations grew more potent.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “You sometimes have quite the mouth, you know. I hit on you. You tell me off, and rightfully so, since I am out on a date. And then you surprise me with something like that. I still think you have quite the mouth, but instead of just being mean I also think of you as a bit …” he struggled to find the right word.
“Crazy? Weird? Wacko? Ready for a padded cell? Desperate for attention?”
He shook his head and laughed softly. I relaxed a bit.
“I’m flattered, thrilled even, that you were flirting with me. But dates are for pairs, not threes. I don’t want a third wheel, living or dead. I’m an only child, I don’t like to share.
” I paused and decided to hedge. “Truce?”
He looked at me, his expression serious, but not as cloudy as it had been a few moments before. “I suspect I can’t stay mad at you, but I am now. And I have a date waiting. I need to go.”
He left the room, and I followed him out, feeling conflicted.
Wyatt was just coming out from behind the curtain himself, and headed back to put an arm around Brittany. He looked a bit distracted. I suspected my mother had said something he didn’t want to hear as well.
My mother started beckoning Brittany over to her corner.
“But I want my cards read by her,” Brittany said, looking in my direction.
“My dear, you have a strong aura,” my mother cut in. “I insist on reading your palm. Come.” Brittany did as told, and my mother swooshed the drapes closed around them.
As I led Heather back for her reading, I heard Wyatt mutter to Roger, under his breath. “Man, that was nuts.”
I couldn’t make out Roger’s reply, but it sounded like he agreed.
A moment later I was seated with Heather. She was clearly nervous in front of me. I’m sure it didn’t help that Roger and Wyatt both looked somewhat discombobulated.
Maybe she feared I would tell her something she didn’t want to hear.
The rational angel on my shoulder told me that Roger was only escorting Heather because she had badgered Brittany, who in turn badgered Wyatt, who then badgered Roger. The angry angel on the other side was hissing something less conciliatory.
I got into character. “Would you prefer palms or cards?” I intoned.
“Um, which would you suggest?” she asked.
“I prefer palms. I can get a quicker reading and often a more thorough one at that.”
She assented. “Okay, but I don’t want to take too long, either. I don’t want to keep Roger waiting.”
“But of course. Give me your hands,” I directed. She did. “Now, think of a question you’d like answered.” I took the vial of oil I’d used earlier and placed one drop on each of her palms. I also put one drop on each of my mine, rubbed my hands together and had her hold her hands near the candle flame as I mirrored her stance from across the table. Then I pulled her hands down in front of me and peered into her palms.
“A long lifeline,” I murmured. “That’s good.” I frankly didn’t see much there. Her goal was to work somewhere or be somewhere where she could find a husband. She didn’t want love. She wanted – needed – an affirmation, to be accepted and paired up. There also was a ruthlessness there, lurking below the mousy exterior. If she saw an opportunity she could be dogged. I saw as many as three marriages.
“What else do you see?” she asked.
I stirred, realizing I’d forgotten myself for a moment. “You want to fall in love.”
“So? Who doesn’t? That’s nothing groundbreaking.”
I was annoyed. “You’re also very determined.”
“That’s all you have to say?” she whined. “I could get more out of a fortune cookie.”
“You’re still struggling to find yourself.” I was fighting to find a way to express what I was seeing in her palm without being insulting. “Let yourself relax and worry less about what you think others want of you, and instead try to find what truly makes you happy.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she scoffed. “You’re seriously overcharging for this garbage. I could see why Roger looked so mad when he came out. You probably gave him the same lame lines.”
Suddenly I didn’t feel like mincing words any longer. The gloves were off.
“You want anyone who will have you,” I said. “You’ll do whatever you think it takes – getting pregnant, for example – to bag a guy. Deep down you’re unhappy and feel left out. You think if you find someone to marry you – and you don’t care if love is part of the equation – then all will be fine. You want the picture-perfect life, even if it’s a rotten sham beneath the surface.”
Her mouth was open as she stared at me in shock and disgust. “That’s rude.”
“It’s also true, isn’t it? Your endgame is to find a guy who will marry you and make you look like you accomplished something. For some reason that’s the yardstick you measure yourself by. If you need to get pregnant, so be it. If you have to lie and say you’re pregnant, that’s fine, too.”
She pushed away from the table and stood up. “I can’t believe this.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll find someone to marry you. You haven’t met him yet, but you will, and then that will fall apart and you’ll find someone else. And he’ll leave you, and then you’ll mellow a bit and find your third and final husband. And you’ll stay with him because you’ll be in your late thirties or early forties and believe your odds of finding someone else have dried up. You won’t be happy, but by that point you’ll at least be content.”
She looked at me, her expression stony. I wasn’t sure if she was on the verge of breaking out into tears or of spitting in my face. Instead she inhaled deeply, stood up and walked out the room and back into the shop.
“Too much?” I asked, craning my head in her direction.
I blew out the candle and returned to the shop. Heather had by then huffed out the door, and Roger and Tom, who were deep in conversation and eating pumpkin scones, looked up in surprise. I was fuming and stomped my foot on the floor. Suddenly a small green man mask flew off the wall, splitting into two pieces as it toppled to the floor.
Annoyed, I tramped my foot again. Even though I was several feet away, the pieces flew several feet into the air and shattered with a loud pop into hundreds of pieces before scattering all over the shop floor.
Everyone turned to look in the direction of the busted mask. An acrid scent filled the air. I started breathing shallowly because it made me feel both angry and hopeless.
“How did that happen?” Vanessa asked. I shrugged in response as she bent to pick up the pieces. “And when did you start wearing Love’s Baby Soft? It’s like a canister of it got sprayed all over the store. It’s at least covering up that burnt stink.”
Roger looked at me. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Your date is mad. She didn’t like what I saw in her palms.”
“Aren’t you supposed to say vague things like she’ll find the love of her life and live near the water? Things like that?” Tom asked.
I shrugged again. “I told her what I saw. Sometimes the truth hurts.” I looked at Roger. “And Roger, in case you hadn’t noticed, your date just stormed out.”
He looked at me, then at the door, and gathered his wits. Clearly her exit hadn’t made much of an impression on him. That made me feel a tiny bit better. When he made a move to follow her out the door, though, I felt a fresh surge of anger. “And Roger?” He paused to look back in my direction. “Don’t get her pregnant if you sleep with her. Trust me on that one.”
He furrowed his brow in disbelief and shook his head dismissively as he left my shop in pursuit of his date.
I crossed my arms and began furiously pacing my shop’s floor space. Another mask flew down, this time slamming into the wall opposite where it had originally hung. This one broke into dozens of pieces.
Vanessa quietly went to the back to get a broom and dustpan, and possibly to get out of the line of fire.
“What was that all about?” my mother asked.
I turned, surprised to see her. “Oh, did you finish your reading already?”
“Yes. And she bought a candle and she went next door with Wyatt to buy some fudge while Roger was waiting on you to finish with Heather.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Oh, right. So, this is the guy you got all dolled up for, and he comes in with a blind date and you blow up about it. Interesting,” my mother mused. “What’s with the masks flying off the wall?”
“I don’t have a good answer, at least not at this moment. But getting rid of my ‘weeds’ might have been a contributing factor.”
“They were ugl
y.”
“They served a purpose.”
She looked at me curiously. “Why are you tugging on your ear like that? You’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you’d better get your emotions in check if you’re having little tantrums and making customers mad. You don’t want to wreck your stock or get a reputation as someone who gives nasty, negative readings.”
“Well, I tried to be subtle, but she got snotty,” I sniffed.
“It’s a ten- or fifteen-minute reading. How hard could it be to be civil with a dumb young kid?”
“Point taken.”
My mother stepped closer to me and gave me an in-depth look.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“There is. Something is off,” she said, “but I can’t tell what it is. It’s almost like you’re not quite … yourself.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But something is off. It also smells like something’s burnt in here. I smell that kiddie perfume, too, but the stink is fighting with it and winning. Like burnt hair or plastic. It came out of nowhere, too.” Her gaze darted around the room, trying to make out where the odor had come from.
Tom made his way toward the shop’s front exit, grabbing another cookie as he headed to the door. “Come on, Fiona. She’s having a bad day. She’s got a little crush on Roger, and doesn’t realize that his date with Heather will go nowhere.”
“Why do you say that,” I grumbled. I didn’t want to ask it, but I couldn’t help myself.
“He told me he only agreed to go on the double date to help his brother out, among other things. He also said doesn’t even really like the girl,” Tom said. “Plus, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”
“Oh.” I blushed and bit my lower lip to stop a goofy smile from spreading.
“And,” my mother added, “you have no need to worry. You can’t help but be good looking since you’re my daughter. Just help it along by wearing some dresses like that one. I’d actually forgotten you’d had a decent pair of tits.”
“There’s my little cactus flower,” Tom said, patting my mother’s arm. “Now Pops’ mood is lightened, and you’ve had your say.” He pulled my mother’s hand into his and they walked out my shop.
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