by Ines Saint
They paused outside the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery, and Jessica looked around. “Well, I really love it here, Cass. I see us here. I’ll run the numbers when we get back.”
Cassie grinned. “Wait till you meet a few more people before you declare your love.” She opened the door and whispered, “If you thought it was intense back there—”
“Finally, you come to us!” Rosa exclaimed a moment later, engulfing Cassie in a comforting, flowery perfume–scented embrace.
Cassie smiled. “I always meet you halfway.”
Rosa stepped back and held her hands, saying, “Let me take a good look at you,” in her familiar, melodious accent. “Gorgeous as always, the turquoise is spot-on, but you must not wear white, it washes you out.”
She was then tugged, whirled around, and bear-hugged by Ruby. “Nonsense. Fashion doesn’t matter. The fire inside you can never be washed out.”
“If fashion doesn’t matter, why are you always wearing things that make you look like a witch?” Rosa pointed a long, red, rhinestone-studded nail at Ruby’s outfit. Muffled laughter came from a group of patrons at a nearby table.
Cassie sucked in her lips to keep her own laughter in. With her long silvery hair, black, wide sleeved gown and bright blue eyes, Ruby certainly looked like the gypsy-witch she’d always wanted to be.
“It’s a good look on me and it’s great for business.” Ruby lifted a shoulder, shooting Rosa a haughty glance.
Cassie glanced back at Jessica, who was looking around, trying to hide her own smile. Her eyes twinkled when she caught Cassie’s glance, and she could tell her friend liked both the older ladies and the café.
Comfortable bubblegum pink and mint green chairs, sofas, and soda-shop stools; a huge, crystal-laden chandelier; exposed brick walls; and a few rustic touches gave the place its unique vibe. The three women had never been able to agree on décor so they’d settled for a mix-and-match of their personalities and tastes.
Her eye caught sight of her grandmother’s favorite stool at the far end of the counter and Cassie pictured the two of them there, sharing tea and dessert and chatting. It was here that Cassie first noticed her grandmother’s mind was beginning to fade.
Sherry’s warm-humored voice brought her back before the hollow thud spread. “Good manners is what’s good for business. You two haven’t even said hello to Cassie’s friend.” She came up from behind the counter wearing a frilly pink and black apron over ankle jeans and a T-shirt. The spunk in her step and the spike in her short blond do belied the long-suffering, too-old-for-this-nonsense tone in her voice. She walked over to give both Cassie and a surprised Jessica a quick, loving squeeze.
“Jessica, meet Rosa, Ruby, and Sherry, the double agents I was telling you about.”
The door behind her jingled, signaling customers, but the three women didn’t move. Rosa’s big brown eyes narrowed. “Really, Cassidy? This is how you choose to introduce us?”
Cassie laughed. “Don’t play innocent with me! You know you told Sam I was the owner of Red Realty when I expressly asked you not to tell anybody. All this time I thought you were only keeping me informed of everything that went on around here out of a special loyalty.”
“Wait. You told us not to tell?” Rosa drew her brows a little too close together. She was a terrible actress, always overdoing it.
Ruby tilted her head and pretended to think about it. “I don’t recall you asking us to keep that information private.”
Sherry was good. Her eyes lost their twinkle and she managed to look offended. “Our memories are not what they used to be, and you accuse us of being double agents? As in spies?” The word spies made her eyes glitter, though, ruining the effect. It was obvious she rather liked the idea.
“We are not spies.” Ruby shot Cassie a quelling look.
“No, I’d say you’re more like equal-opportunity meddlers,” Dan’s deep voice chimed in. Cassie turned to see both Dan and Johnny standing by the door, arms crossed, lips quirked. Dan’s knowing look and dry tone hinted he’d also been a recent victim to the meddling.
Now that she was calmer, she took the chance to examine them each for changes. Dan’s blue-gray eyes were brighter than she remembered, and something about his demeanor made him look happier than she’d ever seen him. He looked exactly the same, only more contented, slightly older, and more muscular. Johnny looked like he hadn’t aged a day. The ever-present, easy grin and long-lashed, heavy-hooded hazel eyes that had forever gotten him both into and out of trouble were more devastating than ever.
He nodded at Jessica and Cassie wasn’t surprised or concerned to see her friend blush, though she’d never seen her blush before. Johnny had that effect on most women.
“Let’s call them informants. It sounds more professional.” Johnny winked.
“Well, that makes us sound like gossipers, and we do not gossip. We share. We inform. Occasionally, we vent. But we do not gossip.” Rosa crossed her arms and challenged them with her eyes.
“And don’t forget, we also comfort. So, what dessert and purpose will it be for you two ladies today?” Sherry asked.
“Purpose?” Jessica repeated.
“Close your eyes and think of the dessert that your innermost hunger craves,” Ruby instructed.
Cassie bit her lip and watched Jessica swallow hard and bide her time. “I guess I’ll have some blueberry pie, if you have some.”
Everyone turned to Ruby. Jessica furrowed her brow, but Rosa squeezed her hand and said, “Don’t feel like we’re putting you on the spot, hija. It’s all just a good marketing ploy I came up with years ago.”
Ruby glowered at Rosa before turning back to Jessica. “The purpose of blueberry pie is to juice up and give a distinct flavor to those areas of your life that feel vague to you. Do you know if this purpose you’re craving is permanent or temporary?”
“Um. Well, I—uh, I . . .” Jessica stammered.
Ruby smiled wider. “Don’t worry. I know how we can figure it out. Nobody move.”
Ruby rushed to the kitchen. Jessica widened her eyes at Cassie and Cassie shrugged. Dan and Johnny began peppering Cassie with questions about what she’d been up to the last ten years and what had happened in the meeting with Sam that morning. Both were excited to learn she’d be leasing an office there soon and would be around often.
She didn’t inform them she might actually move her headquarters and be around permanently. She’d planned to march into Sam’s office with guns drawn and heart shielded. Things hadn’t gone according to plan. Welcome home, Sam had said. She was sure she wanted to be number one. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to be home.
Ruby came back holding two pieces of latticed blueberry pie, one in each hand. Rosa and Sherry wore knowing smiles. Unsure but brave, Jessica took a bite of each. “Which one do you prefer?” Sherry asked, eagerly.
Jessica chewed, then swallowed. “The, uh, one on the left, I guess.”
“Is that the one with cinnamon?” Rosa asked.
“No,” Ruby answered, eyes twinkling. “And that means you’re looking for a quick fix. Something juicy, but fleeting.”
“Why? What does cinnamon have to do with anything?” Johnny laughed.
“Cinnamon is an ancient preservative. She doesn’t crave it, therefore, she doesn’t crave anything permanent.”
Rosa seized Jessica’s left hand and held it up. “No ring,” she declared.
“She’s widowed,” Cassie was quick to say, lest they get any ideas of fixing her up.
“Hmm.” Ruby sized Jessica up, as if she already had someone in mind.
Johnny backed away and he and Dan left with swift goodbyes and promises of becoming constant nuisances as soon as she settled on an office to lease.
“We’re widows, too, dear,” Sherry was saying to Jessica as she led her to a table. “Now, eat your pie and tell us all about yourself. Ruby will get you some coffee. How do you like it?”
“As strong as possible,” said Jessica, who usually took he
r coffee light and sweet.
“I’ll bring the coffee and my tarot cards and we’ll get you all sorted out.”
“Don’t worry. It’s only another marketing ploy. Not my idea, of course. Such things cross the line.” Rosa made the sign of the cross and looked up, as if apologizing to God, but Jessica looked more amused than alarmed.
“Can I have a strong coffee to go?” Cassie asked. There was something she needed to do and she hoped to do it alone. She kneeled down beside Jessica. “I’m going to stop by my grandmother’s house. It backs up to the park we passed, so it’ll be a quick walk. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here for a little while?”
“Stay here. I’ve never had my fortune told by a gypsy before.”
Cassie stepped out of the café and breathed in a mixture of moist earth and coffee. People were strolling up and down the sidewalks, mostly unhurried.
The town’s storybook architecture and rich history had always been a tourist draw. Constant foot traffic, low rent, and a reputation for being quirky made it the perfect place to try out unusual business ideas. Nevertheless, the town had been bleeding residents for the last two decades.
Much of the housing stock was in need of updates or complete rehabilitation, and, until recently, the schools had been good, but not excellent. She wondered how Sam felt about that. Everyone knew the brothers’ education had been a sore topic between their parents. Sam’s mom had wanted them to go to the private school she’d attended, while their dad had thought “good schools,” when coupled with good habits and a strong work ethic, were “more real.” He hadn’t wanted them to grow up in a bubble. Both were vocal about their views.
While Cassie was ecstatic the schools were now rated excellent, because it would be great for business, she hoped some of the grit would also stay. Bubbles were fragile and transient. She’d learned the hard way.
Turning her back to the sun, she hiked up the ravine through a much-tread path that led from Star Springs Park to the space between her grandmother’s old yard and a neighbor. The thought that walking up a ravine in heels was a bad idea occurred to her too late. As usual. Her pumps were muddy by the time she reached the backyard.
She went around the front and halted, needing a moment to breathe past the angst that filled her the moment she looked up. The cottage was in tatters. Chunks of stucco were coming off the exterior, stones were loose, and the vertical wood trim was dull.
She’d been told the new owner had bought it months before. Maybe they hadn’t had time to get started. Or maybe they regretted their purchase.
Cassie looked around and listened carefully. The street was empty and quiet. She made her way up the winding brick path that led to the porch. Heart beating in a rhythm that told her what she was doing was risky, she tried the door. It was unlocked. She pushed it open and quickly stepped inside. Everything in the living room, from the high beam ceilings to the brick wood-burning fireplace, was run-down. There was soiled carpet where hardwood floors used to be.
When her grandmother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s ten years before, her family had rented the house out to help defray her health-care costs. From the looks of it, her uncle had done a lousy job picking tenants and watching over the property. She wondered what the new owner was planning. Would they love it as she and Grandma Maddie had loved it?
She smoothed her hand against the old, chipped and scraped laminate kitchen countertops and peeked into the powder room. Both would need to be gutted. She closed her eyes and conjured up what it once was. When she opened them, the dinginess faded and warm memories filled her.
The wall of windows and French doors that led to the yard afforded a second-story view to century-old trees. Her grandmother had always said that her grandfather bought the house, while she’d bought the view.
She made her way to the doors, pulled back the puke-pink curtains, and looked out into the small yard that stopped abruptly at a line of boulders that signaled the ravine. Cassie pressed her nose to the window and looked out. It had always been her favorite feature. A house that backed up to a stream that led to a park. So much of her childhood had been spent running around in that park.
Now the yard was overgrown with dandelions. She absentmindedly traced the backyard with her finger on the window. In her mind’s eye, she could still see her grandmother kneeling down over the garden, weeding the dandelions out, smiling at her as she ran to and from the park. Welcome home.
She was happy to see that although it was faded, her grandmother’s favorite quote was still stenciled onto the space between the sliding doors and the ceiling.
There is a magic in that little world, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits.—Robert Southey
Cassie leaned her forehead against the quarter-sewn oak frame and breathed in. The house had always smelled of oak. Despite its condition, it still felt like home. But she felt sorry for the house. While she’d been out getting it together, the house had been falling apart.
“Cassie?” Sam’s soft voice stole her breath and a few beats of her heart.
What was he doing here? This was the last place she wanted to meet him. She straightened and turned around, feeling stiff and unnatural. It was different seeing him here. Alone.
They stared at each other for a long moment, without a word. She schooled her features into what she hoped was indifference. The more she looked, the more his presence filled the space between them. It was impossible to look away. He had the arms, shoulders, and build of a man who hefted, heaved, and hammered for a living.
She swallowed hard and looked past him. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is my grandmother’s old house. I’d think it’s obvious why I’m here.”
“Why I’m here should also be obvious. I own thirty-four properties.”
Sam waited. Two beats later, Cassie’s eyes widened. “This is one of your properties?” Her voice came out like a high-pitched squeal. The sound and the flash in her eyes would’ve been enough to make a sane man head for the door.
Sam simply nodded.
Cassie threaded both hands in her hair and began to pace. “Look at the state it’s in. You’ve had it for months and you haven’t even cleaned it out. How could you?” She stopped pacing and abruptly turned to him, baby blue eyes blazing. “You’re fired!”
Sam couldn’t help it, the corner of his mouth went up, even though he knew it would make her even more furious. He waited for her brain to catch up to her mouth.
She shook her head. “You know what I mean. Look at it, Sam. It’s in tatters. It’s obvious you don’t care about it.”
His smile disappeared. He’d bought this house because he’d loved Cassie’s grandmother like she was his own. After a brutal winter, his business was teetering on the edge. Everything was riding on the prompt sale of the twelve properties he and his brothers had worked hard to ready. He’d dislocated a shoulder, herniated a disc, and lost more nights of sleep than he could count, working tirelessly on each and every property.
She kept asking him to trust it all to her, yet she didn’t trust him. He took a step forward. “You could’ve bought this house from your family long before it deteriorated into this. You didn’t. That’s how much you cared.”
She stared at him for a long, loaded moment. “Coming here was a bad idea,” she said before sidestepping him and rushing out the front door.
He caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and made her face him. Her eyes were wet and her cheeks were streaked with tears. He was torn between hugging her to him and walking away forever. And why not just walk away? Not one day had passed and already she was out the door. “See how easily you give up?” he asked, his eyes not leaving hers.
Her eyes narrowed and she wriggled her arm free. “I meant coming to this house. Where do you find the nerve to accuse me of giving up, you self-centered jerk? I’m the one who caught you wi
th your tongue down someone else’s throat, and you don’t trust me?”
Her words made him see he would never get through to her. If working together brought them fresh pain, it was best they went their separate ways. “Whatever you decide, see that the contract is on my desk tomorrow morning by nine. Any later and all the properties will go to the others.” He walked away from her without looking back.
Cassie tried to rush back down to the park, but her heels kept sinking in the mud. Scrubbing her face dry of tears and taking deep breaths as she walked, she considered proving Sam right and forgetting about it all.
But by the time she opened the café door, she’d scrubbed her face and calmed herself down enough to fake an okay smile. The smile became genuine when she noticed an old friend, Marty, inside.
“Next time, I’ll tell you what it is you’re temporarily craving. There’s a new method I’ve been experimenting with, and it should lead you in the right direction,” Ruby was saying to Jessica. She looked back at Cassie. “It should lead you in the right direction, too.”
“Hey, freckles, Johnny told me you were back.” Marty engulfed Cassie in a huge, warm hug that had her tears threatening to fall once again. She was such a sap. “When are you going to stop by for a visit?” he asked when he set her down.
“Your house or the tavern?” Cassie asked. Rosa, his grandmother, had proudly told her about how Marty had bought Huffy’s Tavern and turned it into one of the hottest pubs in the area. Marty was younger than her by two years and he was Johnny’s best friend. He’d been an integral part of the “gang” and Cassie was so proud of his success she could burst.
“Same thing. I practically live at the tavern. And before I forget, here.” Marty handed her a key. “Dan told me to give this to you. It’s for one of the offices Mr. Montgomery is renting. He thought it might suit your purposes and so he copied this key for you. It’s on West Maple, right next to the perfume shop where Dan got whipped. He said you can leave the key in the mailbox when you leave.”