Around Jazzy and Carson, the rest of the group dismounted their respective motorcycles and pulled themselves together, adjusting their clothing and smoothing their hair. Rita straightened the front of her shirt, while Marnie nervously glanced around. Only Laverne appeared completely at ease. Delight bubbled out of her. “Woo hoo, that was one heckuva ride,” she said, lightly punching the arm of the bald-headed man who’d driven her. “I mighta missed having that kind of adventure completely, if not for you all.”
“Glad you liked it,” her driver said.
“Mike?” The screen door opened, and a woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt stepped out. She was slim, with dark hair pulled up in a bun. Not the stereotypical biker babe shown in the movies. More like a mom who did Pilates. “Oh, hello.” She came down the steps, seemingly unfazed by a gaggle of women in her front yard.
“I brought us some overnight guests, honey,” Mike said. “These ladies were stranded on the expressway.”
“Oh, you poor things,” she said, striding forward and extending her hand to Rita. “I’m Beth, Mike’s wife.” She shot her husband a chastising look.
“Sorry, hon.” He turned to the others. “I’m always forgetting to introduce my wife.”
“Twenty-seven years he’s been forgetting,” she said. “I’m starting to take it personally.”
Mike explained about the alternator and his invitation to stay overnight at their house. Beth didn’t seem the least bit disconcerted that her husband and his friends had brought home four strange women. As soon as he was done telling the story, Mike got the car keys from Rita, explaining that they would put the motorcycles in the barn, and then he and his son would take their truck to get the ladies’ luggage from the stranded car.
After all the men left, the group of women followed Beth into the house. She led them past the front entryway into what Jazzy supposed was the living room, a welcoming space softly lit by Tiffany-style lamps. The tan couch and two matching chairs were plump and inviting. After they exchanged names and settled into their seats, Beth said. “So where are you all from?”
“We’re from Wisconsin,” Laverne said, and then, as a preemptively defensive measure, added, “It’s a really great state.”
Beth said, “Oh, we’ve been to Wisconsin many times. I have a cousin who lives in Lake Geneva. It’s gorgeous there.” She gestured for them to sit.
“We’re from north of there,” Marnie said.
Beth stood up suddenly. “Oh, please excuse my manners. I haven’t even offered you something to drink.”
“I don’t need anything to drink,” Laverne said. “But I would like to use your bathroom.”
Here we go again with the bathroom, Jazzy thought. Next it would be Rita, if the pattern held true.
“Of course,” Beth said, getting up to direct her down a hallway.
While they were out of earshot, Rita leaned forward and hissed at Jazzy, “What were you thinking, getting on that motorcycle and making the decision for all of us? I can’t believe you. This is insane.”
To Jazzy the words were static in the background. She was focused on a different kind of communication, a voice in her head demanding attention. She held up a hand, but Rita, not understanding her signal, continued. “We have to figure something out. I’m not comfortable staying here overnight.”
Marnie murmured something that Jazzy didn’t catch, but it was clear she was trying to smooth things over. Marnie didn’t like conflict of any kind.
“Jazzy? Did you hear what I said?” Rita said, waving her arm.
“Well, why did you get on the back of the motorcycle, then?” Marnie said to Rita. “I took that as a sign you were fine with it.”
Rita gestured at Jazzy. “I couldn’t just let her go off with a group of strange men. I had to make a split-second decision. I figured there was safety in numbers.”
Beth came out from the hallway. They hadn’t heard her coming, but the look on her face said she had heard plenty. “Is there a problem?” she asked in a kind way.
“No,” said Jazzy. “Everything’s fine.”
“Actually there is a problem,” said Rita, with a forced smile. “While I appreciate your hospitality, you have to understand that I’m not completely comfortable accepting your offer.”
Marnie interjected, “It’s not that we don’t appreciate—”
Rita continued, steamrolling right past Marnie’s attempts to make nice. “I’m sure you know what I mean when I say that although you seem like lovely people, you don’t know us and we don’t know you. For us to sleep here would be awkward. If there’s some way we could call a cab to take us to a hotel, even if the cost is great, or the wait is long, I think—”
Jazzy couldn’t hold back any longer. She’d finally interpreted what the voice was trying to tell her. Now it all made sense. She leaped to her feet, startling everyone in the room. “No, Rita, no,” she said firmly. “We have to stay here. I have it on very good authority that we’re supposed to stay here.” She emphasized the words on good authority hoping Rita would get it, but she clearly didn’t since she just looked bewildered.
“What are you talking about?” Rita asked, irritated.
“It’s the message from Melinda,” Jazzy said. “This is where we’re supposed to stop.” She turned to Beth. “Have you ever heard of Preston Place?’
Beth gave her a bemused smile. “Well, of course.”
Rita sat up straight, the blood draining from her face. “Where is it? Where is Preston Place? Is it far?”
“No, it’s not far. It’s right in town on the main drag. Next to the hardware store and across from the gas station,” Beth said, as if that would make it clearer. “You can’t miss it.”
“But what is it, exactly?” Jazzy asked. “What is Preston Place?”
“It’s the name of the restaurant Mike and I own.”
“You own a restaurant called Preston Place?” Rita’s tone was incredulous.
“Yep.”
“An actual business?” Rita said.
“We think it’s an actual business,” Beth said, amused. “It’s my pie shop, but we serve soup and sandwiches too.”
“Why doesn’t it come up on Google?”
Beth looked sheepish. “It’s only been open for about six months. We’ve been meaning to get a website going, but it’s one of those things we haven’t gotten to yet. Most of our customers are local, so it’s not a huge priority.”
Marnie said, “I feel like I walked into a movie halfway through. Will someone please tell me what this all about?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Beth said. “How do you know about Preston Place?”
Rita said, “Jazzy got some messages—”
Jazzy interrupted, not wanting to explain the whole psychic thing. “I overheard some people talking about it when we stopped for gas the last time. Preston Place in Colorado.”
“Must be us,” Beth said. “As far as I know, we’re the only Preston Place in Colorado.”
“In Colorado?” Laverne said, walking in on the conversation.
“We’re in Colorado,” Jazzy said. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Right now we’re in Colorado?” Laverne pointed to the floor.
“Yes,” Rita said. “We drove over the state line an hour ago.”
“Shoot, I can’t believe I missed the end of Nebraska. You gals shoulda woke me up.”
Jazzy said, “You’ll see it on the way back.”
Beth said, “So are you staying here tonight or are you thinking you might not be staying? Because if you want to go to a hotel we’re talking fifty miles away and it’s going to take some doing to get you there.”
“No, we’re staying,” Rita said. “That is, if the offer still stands, we’d appreciate the hospitality. And tomorrow, after we figure out what to do with the car, we’d like to see your restaurant, if that’s possible.”
Beth said, “We’re open for lunch at eleven thirty, and we always welcome out-of-state customer
s. Or any customers, for that matter.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Mike and Carson returned with the suitcases, the women got the tour of the house and discovered that of the three bedrooms, they’d be occupying two of them. Carson chivalrously gave up his room to sleep on the couch. Rita quickly nabbed Jazzy as a roommate, which left Marnie with Laverne. It was only fair, because Rita had been stuck with Laverne the night before, but that had been in a hotel room, a space with far more personal barriers than this room with the queen-sized bed. “What side do you want?” Laverne asked, and Marnie inwardly groaned. Jazzy and Rita’s room had two twin beds in a sports-themed bedroom. Upon seeing it she’d graciously let them have it, not knowing of course what the setup in Carson’s room would be.
“I’ll take the side by the wall,” Marnie said. “As long as you don’t care.”
“Whatever you want. I never sleep a wink, so it really doesn’t matter to me.” They’d been hearing about Laverne and her trouble sleeping for most of this trip. Ironic, because she was the only one who dozed in the car. “Getting caught up,” is how she put it, as if she’d gone days without sleep.
When they were washed up, teeth brushed, and in their sleepwear, the two women climbed under the covers. It had been a long time since Marnie had shared a bed with anyone. It felt odd. Laverne must have sensed her reluctance, because she took the pillow shams, punched them into cylinders, and positioned them down the center of the bed. “Now I have my side and you have yours.”
“Thanks, Laverne,” Marnie said. Maybe she was too hard on the woman. Laverne could be a little bit annoying, but she was a good soul. It wasn’t her fault that Marnie was a nervous wreck about this trip and that Laverne’s excitement about traveling out of the state rubbed her the wrong way. “Laverne,” she said after they’d turned off the lights and settled under the covers. “What do you suppose is the deal with Preston Place?”
Laverne yawned. Marnie heard the bed creak as she shifted position. “I don’t know.”
“It has something to do with Rita and her daughter, I got that much from what they said when you were in the bathroom.”
“Okay.”
“I find it kind of upsetting that they’re keeping things from us. I mean, we know that Jazzy’s psychic, so it’s not like that’s a mystery or anything. I just hate being left out.”
“I’m sure they’ll tell us tomorrow.” Laverne’s voice trailed off at the end. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“I guess you’re right.” Marnie pulled at the edge of the sheet until the smooth cotton was against her chin. She took a deep breath, drawing in the clean smell of fresh laundry. “I just hate secrets. I guess it’s just a thing with me. Brian used to keep me out of so much. It made me feel like I wasn’t worthy. You know what I mean?” She waited for a response, but there was only the sound of loud breathing from Laverne’s side of the bed. In another minute, the breathing turned to snoring, an odd snoring like the popping of air from between closed lips. And then a gasp, and a minute later a muted snort. A barnyard of human snoring. It was familiar to Marnie, who’d heard the male version of these sounds every night for the first few years she’d been with Brian. She wasn’t a doctor, but she felt confident diagnosing this one.
Laverne had sleep apnea. No wonder she was always tired. Marnie would tell her in the morning.
In the other bedroom, Rita was too keyed up to sleep. She’d questioned Jazzy once they were alone, but wasn’t entirely happy with the answers.
“So, this voice you heard—you’re absolutely sure it was the same as the one you heard at the rest stop with the deer?”
“Yes, it was one and the same,” Jazzy said. “And yes, she said this was where we needed to be to find Preston Place.”
“And you got the impression it was Melinda?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Did she say anything about me?” Rita said, pressing on. “Did you get any other details?”
“Rita,” Jazzy said sternly, and for a second her tone reminded Rita of the way Melinda spoke when she thought her mother was prying into her business. “I told you what I know. If there was anything else, believe me, I’d tell you.”
When Jazzy was in the bathroom washing up, Rita called Glenn, thinking he’d find the news of the actual existence of Preston Place astounding. Instead, he reacted calmly. “I hate to say it, hon, but it could just be a fluke.” He didn’t want her to get her hopes up just to get them dashed, she knew that, but would it have killed him to have mustered a little more enthusiasm?
She tried to explain how uncanny it was that Jazzy heard a voice say the words “Preston Place” and had Beth confirm them, all in the space of a few minutes. “If you had seen it happen, Glenn, you would have been in awe. It was mystical. Jazzy and I are both convinced it’s Melinda. There’s something going on here, something bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced.”
He agreed then, but she sensed he was placating her. He was more concerned about the car. “I don’t like the idea of you staying with strangers,” he said. “Do you want me to fly out there tomorrow? I can rent a car at the airport, come get you, and deal with the mechanic myself.”
She said of course not, but then on second thought, told him maybe. She’d let him know. Car problems could be so frustrating. She always felt like an idiot when mechanics explained what was wrong, and she was never sure if she should nod like she understood or confess her ignorance and ask them to explain. Either way, the repair bill was the same. Having Glenn fly out and take charge might be comforting. He’d always handled anything with moving parts in their household. But it also might feel like a failure on her part. Her role in this trip, right from the start, was that of leader. It felt good to be in charge of something outside of her normal life. She needed to do this and do it well. Seize the day, and all that. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I know more about the car,” she repeated.
“All right, hon,” her husband said. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Good night.” Rita turned the phone off, feeling much better about being stranded somewhere in Colorado, in a house with complete strangers. She would sleep well tonight now that Glenn knew where she was. She knew that no matter where she was in the world, if she needed him, he would come.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
That night Jazzy was awakened by the sound of her grandmother’s voice calling her name. She sat up in bed and looked around, having momentarily forgotten where she was. She rubbed her eyes, let them adjust to the dark of the room, and listened intently, but only heard Rita breathing softly in the other bed, her sleeping form lit by the moonlight coming through the slats in the blinds.
“Grandma?” She said the word aloud, more out of habit than necessity. The dead could hear her thoughts as well as her voice. She verbalized the word more for herself than her grandmother, having learned from past experience that thoughts are slippery things. To the living, spoken words had shape and meaning.
She knew her grandmother had arrived when she sensed a familiar energy enter the room a moment later. Jazzy felt a sense of happiness and completion at being reunited with the one person who truly understood her. At times like these she was glad to be psychic.
She pushed the covers away and pulled her knees to her chest, hugging herself physically. “Hello, Grandma.” It came out as a whisper, but the truth was, she was holding back; if she were alone, she’d have shouted the greeting. Ever since Scarlett Turner offered her a job and said she’d serve as her mentor, Jazzy had yearned for her grandmother’s advice and hoped she’d have the opportunity to ask. She never took these spiritual meetings for granted. Each one was a gift because she never knew if it would be the last.
Jazzy, my darling.
Jazzy felt a light touch on her head, a typical affectionate gesture from her grandmother when she’d been alive. “What should I do, Grandma? Should I take the job with Scarlett Turner in New York?” she asked quietly, getting straight to the poin
t. In the other bed, Rita turned over in her sleep. Jazzy hoped she wouldn’t wake up. She didn’t want anything to break her concentration.
Do you want to work for Scarlett Turner?
“Maybe, but I don’t know anyone in New York and…” Why was Grandma answering a question with a question? Jazzy needed her opinion. “I’m not sure. I just want to do the right thing.”
For someone who’s psychic, you don’t use your intuition nearly enough. Grandma conveyed the words in a teasing manner, but Jazzy wasn’t in the mood for being teased.
“Grandma, seriously, tell me what to do.”
I can’t tell you what’s right for you. You have to decide that for yourself.
“Really? You won’t tell me?” Jazzy said, frustrated. This was especially out of character for her grandmother, who, when alive, loved to give advice. All of Jazzy’s life she’d instructed her on everything from how to make a bed (hospital corners!), to how to shake hands (look the person in the eye), to the best way to keep a house tidy (put things away as you go along). And now, for something this important, she was totally bailing on her?
Oh, darling, only you know what will make you happiest. Follow your heart.
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