by Ines Saint
“It’s not a talent, it’s a ploy, and I never dismiss brilliant marketing.” Rosa harrumphed.
“Great!” Cassie jumped in, before the two women could sidetrack them all. “So glad you’re on board. I’ll go start getting others to join us.”
The first business on her list was Coco Loco, an authentic Mexican restaurant. They were closed, but a young man saw her waving through the glass and was kind enough to open the door anyway. He introduced himself as Ernesto, the owner, and, seeing that he was busy, Cassie quickly summarized why she was there, while admiring the burgundy and mustard diner décor. She never would’ve thought the colors could work well anywhere but in a hot dog, but the place looked great.
He listened as he walked back to the kitchen and motioned for her to sit on a stool while he peppered her with a few good questions. Soon he was on board, even offering a discount for the day, but Cassie was reluctant to leave. Whatever it was that he was frying smelled like heavenly fatty goodness, and she was curious to know what it was.
“That smells sooo good,” she said, leaning forward to take a long, satisfying whiff. Holly was right. Her sense of smell was altering her brain and body. Her entire being was zeroed in on how blissful it would feel to bite into whatever he was frying.
Ernesto beamed at her. “I’m getting started on my empanadas,” he said, picking one up from inside a food display warmer and handing it to her. “Try one.”
Cassie hesitated. She hadn’t meant to wiggle free food from him, but now that he’d offered, she didn’t want to insult him by refusing or by offering to pay.
“Go ahead,” he insisted.
“Thank you, I didn’t mean for you to take pity on me,” she said, smiling, before gingerly taking a bite of the flaky pastry stuffed with ground meat. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure. Ernesto laughed.
“Oh my gosh, this is amazing! What do you put in the meat and what is the crust made out of?”
Before she knew what was happening, Ernesto had her washing her hands, donning an apron, gloves, and cap, and stuffing and pinching empanadas.
She left Coco Loco an hour later, stuffed and happy. Cassie strolled up to the next business, enjoying the bright, breezy day and the feeling of being thoroughly satisfied.
The wooden sign on the next business up read FLO’S COUNTRY YOGA. The Y in Yoga was an upside-down stick figure wearing cowboy boots and a hat. Cassie wrinkled her brow. It looked like yoga sacrilege. The business in front of her would most likely have been rejected by most malls. Spinning Hills was definitely not for everyone.
When she walked inside, she was greeted by a middle-aged woman with long, curly, platinum-blond hair and the body of a fit twenty-year-old, wearing bright blue yoga pants and a black sports bra. Cassie almost regretted the empanadas.
“You here to burn that off, honey?” she asked with a big smile and infectious twang.
“Er, burn what off?” Cassie asked, wondering if her hips were already telling the story of her five stuffed pastries.
She pointed to Cassie’s shirt and pants. “You got sauce on your shirt and an oil stain on your pants.”
“Oh.” Cassie looked down. Crap. So much for wearing an apron. “Thanks for letting me know. I’m stopping by local businesses to tell them about an event we’re planning and I sampled and made some of the wares at Coco Loco. I guess I got some of it on me.” She offered a weak smile, wary of the impression she was making. “I’m Cassie Morgan, by the way. I own Red Realty, down the street.”
It turned out Flo was the owner of Country Yoga and she agreed to raffle off a free membership only if Cassie agreed to a thirty-minute country yoga workout.
“I’m not dressed for it.”
“Were you dressed for frying Mexican appetizers?”
“Good point.” Cassie followed Flo into a blue-gray and white room dotted with fuchsia yoga mats and sat down on the one in front of Flo.
Flo instructed her on controlling her breathing and demonstrated a few basic moves as Blake Shelton crooned through the speakers.
“Okay, now focus on your breathing, but open your heart to the lyrics and take from them what you need, while letting thoughts come and go, acknowledging them without focusing on them. Soon you’ll be where you need to be, and the world, including the music, will fade to the background. I’ll guide you.”
Under Flo’s guidance, Cassie breathed in and out, never losing her focus, while opening her heart to Blake’s story about feeling stuck in the daily grind. Some movements were tricky, but Flo’s good-natured, melodic voice made her feel comfortable enough to just let go and do her best. All in all, Cassie thought she’d done pretty well.
She left feeling energized, focused, a little sore, and holding a three-month membership card, which she was excited about, but didn’t know if she’d have the time to use. If she lived closer, it would be easier. But she didn’t.
Her heart skipped a beat at the idea of living in Spinning Hills. Did she want to? A quick examination of her feelings told her she really didn’t know and she wasn’t about to waste time thinking about what she didn’t know when she had so much she did know to focus on.
The next business she was going to visit, a metal art gallery called Mercurial, had an OUT FOR LUNCH sign on the door. Cassie looked at the big, round, green metallic clock hanging inside to see it was noon. She hurried up the street toward the café, where she’d agreed to meet Jessica for lunch.
When she got to the café, a merry-looking Jessica was peering into a teacup. Ruby, Rosa, and Sherry were also staring down into the teacup. Nobody noticed when the door jingled.
“It’s definitely a penis,” Rosa declared.
Jessica looked up at Cassie and fluttered her hand urgently. “Quick. Come here. Does this look like a phallic symbol to you? I think they’re seeing things.” Cassie nearly choked on her own saliva. Reserved, perfect, suburban soccer mother of two Jessica was discussing phallic symbols with three women she barely knew.
Cassie peered into the cup and studied the pattern the tea leaves had formed. “Oh my.” She swallowed hard. “I’d say it is.” At that moment, the tea leaves began to float away from one another.
“And they’re scattering already. A temporary penis.” Sherry looked up, her eyes bright. “Ruby was right. There’s something fleeting you’re craving, and now we know it’s a meaningless fling!”
To Cassie’s amazement, Jessica didn’t protest, she merely blushed. “I don’t have time for that.”
“You don’t need it. When you’re open to something, it finds you.” Ruby gestured expansively.
“Hey, maybe it’s Rick Springfield!” Cassie said, getting into it.
“The soap opera actor and singer from the eighties? You know him?” Sherry turned to Jessica.
Jessica laughed heartily. “No. It’s this guy I don’t know but who I see around my neighborhood. He looks just like Rick Springfield.”
“And you have the hots for this man?” Rosa asked.
Jessica began giggling nervously again and had to gulp for air before answering. “I can’t believe I’m talking about this, but yes. I do.”
“See? The universe is showing you the way.” Ruby slapped the table triumphantly.
“More like her hormones are showing her the way.” Rosa winked.
“Do Cassie now,” Jessica exclaimed.
“Do what to me now?” Cassie shot them a look, but nobody answered. Sherry stood up and led Cassie to her vacant chair while Jessica pulled on her arm and made her sit down.
“Tasseography,” Jessica explained, as if it were obvious.
Rosa placed a teacup in front of her while Ruby poured tea—curled leaves and all—into her cup. “Take a sip, swirl the leaves around the cup once each way, and then set it down,” she instructed.
With four pairs of eyes watching her and brooking no argument, Cassie dutifully took a sip of tea before vigorously shaking her head. “I need some sugar or honey in my tea.”
“No. S
trong tea enhances your mental-processing abilities,” Ruby explained.
Cassie set the cup down and scrunched up her face. “Hard to think with this bitter taste churning in my mouth.”
“Are you insulting our tea?” Rosa crossed her arms.
“Shush! Look at the leaves!” Ruby cried out.
Cassie looked into the cup. Her eyes widened. “The tea leaves are forming a key . . .”
“A key?” Sherry’s forehead crinkled. “Maybe it’s another penis,” she said hopefully.
Ruby twisted her lips and studied the leaves. “If it is, it only has one ball.”
“A key it is!” Cassie scraped her chair back.
Jessica laughed, but did the same. “You should do this for Open Town. It’ll be a hit,” she said, getting up.
“Yes. But with no talk of phallic symbols,” Cassie was quick to add.
Ruby lifted a shoulder, noncommittal. “What’s in the cards or tea is what’s in the cards or tea. I don’t know why you have a problem with sex talk. Your grandmother was very open about how great her chemistry with your granddad was. They had a healthy sex life until the very end.”
Cassie’s ears began burning so bad she thought they might bleed. She covered them with her hands. “Make it stop.” She’d need a few yoga sessions to let go of the ickiness Ruby’s words had caused.
“Make what stop?” Sam’s voice said behind her.
Cassie turned to see Sam holding a ring full of colorful keys and a piece of paper. “Trust me. You don’t want to know,” she said to him.
“Well, now I’m intrigued,” he said, smiling.
“We were talking about Maddie and Max Sr.’s healthy sex life,” Ruby said.
Sam’s smile disappeared. “And now I’m scarred.” He turned to Cassie. “This is for you. A copy for each house. The number on the back corresponds with the numbered address on the paper. I e-mailed you the list, too, in case.”
One particular key immediately caught Cassie’s attention. It was emerald green and shaped like a tree, and the words wood sprite were written across the top in gold script. She loved it. “Is Mr. Montgomery trying to remind me of the tree incident?” she asked.
Sam shrugged.
“What house is it for?”
Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, let’s see.” He leaned over to look at the paper. “It’s your grandmother’s old house.”
“Oh.” Cassie looked up from the key. “Why are you giving me a copy of that one? It’s not finished yet, and we don’t even know if I’ll be the listing agent.”
Sam looked about as comfortable as a recluse on national television. “You spent a lot of time there growing up. I thought you might want to see how it’s coming along from time to time. It should be done quickly enough. I know it looked bad, but it was mostly cosmetic.”
Sherry looked from Sam and Cassie to the key. “A temporary penis and a key . . .” she said, sounding surprised. “I never thought there was anything to any of it, but isn’t it strange Sam just happened to walk in with a set of keys?”
Sam turned a shade of red Cassie had never seen on him before, and his eyes bugged out. “A temporary . . .” He shook his head. “I’ve got to go.”
“You know . . .” Ruby began, thoughtfully. “Maybe the key has something to do with the curse being broken. Dan did his part, and it is up to Johnny and Sam now. Gypsy curses do come in threes . . .”
“What do you mean?” Jessica asked, her eyes wide and round.
“Here we go again.” Rosa rolled her eyes and went to wipe down the counter farthest from Ruby. Sherry laughed, but made a quick exit to the kitchen. Ruby pursed her lips at them before continuing.
“I read Dan’s fortune with my special tarot cards when he first came back to town. The first card I drew read Creative Project, and it had a picture of angels fixing a harp. The next one read Activation, and it had a picture of an angel blowing fire. The last card was the three elements card, and it showed three angels, one hovering within a spiral of wind, one swimming under water, and one planting a seed, its hands full of earth. Sam must be the angel swimming under water.”
Cassie gave her a look. “The Amador boys are hardly angels, and what does any of this have to do with the keys he gave me?”
“You’ve been given a key to your grandmother’s house, the one creative project you care about most and the one project he truly must complete to continue what Dan activated. Don’t you see?”
She didn’t. Apparently, Jessica didn’t, either, because she asked, “And why is Sam swimming under water?”
“Dan was the one spiraling in the wind, and nobody seems to realize it, but Sam has always been drowning, in one way or another. Always taking care of everyone and everything in his own quiet way while asking nothing for himself. Dan stopped spiraling and Sam must get his head above water so the elements can stabilize.”
Cassie looked at all the keys in her hand. The keys were a reminder it was time to get going. And getting going was what Cassie did best. She loved Ruby to pieces and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she didn’t know what to say to all that fiddle. “I see,” she finally said, shaking the keys and schooling her features into a thoughtful expression. “And I think it’s my job to help Sam along with his creative projects. So he can swim. Above water.” She nodded definitively. “Well, I should go and get started.”
Ruby let out a sound that resembled a chuckle mixed with the clucking of her tongue.
“Wait, aren’t you going to have lunch?” Jessica asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but I ate five empanadas at Coco Loco and I’m still stuffed. I’ve also only managed to visit two businesses all morning.”
“You might want to change before you continue,” Jessica said, pointing at her shirt.
“Oh. Right.” It was a good thing she always kept extra clothes around.
She rushed back to the office, apologizing as she sidestepped the two painters and their supplies, told them everything looked great, freshened up, and changed into a smart, navy pant suit and crisp white shirt. When she got out of the bathroom, her heart leapt at the sight of her father standing at the entrance. He never visited her. He was always too busy.
“Dad!” She ran over to him and hugged him. It had taken years for her to let him back into her heart, and it pained her greatly to know she didn’t respect him the way she once had, but he was still her father and she’d learned to focus on the fact that she loved him.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked when he set her back down.
He smoothed his suit down when she let go of him and looked around. “I have a town hall–style meeting with students at the University of Dayton and decided to stop by and see what you’re up to. Didn’t your mother tell you?”
Cassie shook her head and proceeded to give him a quick tour and update, trying not to disturb the painters any more than she already had. Both men had slowed down and were shooting surreptitious glances in Max McGillicuddy’s direction. No doubt they recognized him. He was a national figure, after all.
Her father went into his man-of-the-people mode, humbly introducing himself to the men and asking each their names and where they were from, repeating their answers as if to commit them to memory.
Cassie used to swell up with pride when she saw him this way. It had taken years to learn it was an act. The moment he was out the door, he’d forget their names and anything they’d talked about.
“Is there anyone here you want to stop by and visit?” she asked when they stepped outside.
He glanced down at his watch, too quickly to really have seen the time. “Sorry, Cassie, I can’t. I’ve got to get going soon if I’m going to make it on time. I just wanted to stop by and see your new headquarters. Your mom tells me you’ll soon be the number-one realty firm in Ohio.”
“Number one in my specialty. If all goes according to plan.”
“That’s something.”
Cassie nodded and tried not to analyze the way he�
��d said those two simple words. He’d come by to see her new office, after all, and that really was something.
He made like he was going to leave when he caught sight of the rhinestone-studded key in her hand. “Look at that,” he said, smiling brightly and squeezing her shoulder. “Daddy’s little princess.” He looked back up at her, eyes twinkling. “You always will be, you know. I’m glad you haven’t forgotten.”
“Of course not. I used to carry that pillow around with me everywhere,” she said, smiling up at him, until she saw his puzzled look. A moment later, his furrowed brow was ironed out and his look turned into one of smooth confidence.
“Yes, the pillow,” he enthused, in a tone Cassie recognized as fake. He didn’t remember the pillow. But it was fine. He’d come to visit her new headquarters.
And it wasn’t that her father lied; it was that he didn’t tell or act his real truths. It was a liability to do so in a world where rivals and adversaries were watching his every move, waiting for him to mess up. Most people with careers that were lived out on a stage were the same way. It had taught Cassie an important lesson: When in doubt, don’t believe.
They parted ways and Cassie headed to Mr. Montgomery’s offices. He owned quite a few buildings downtown, and he would be the perfect person to talk to visitors about the types of businesses Spinning Hills liked to attract.
When she opened the door, a small breeze hit the rotating key display on Mr. Montgomery’s counter and the keys swept against each other, making them sound like wind chimes. Cassie looked at the wide array of colorful keys and then glanced down at the one he’d chosen for her new office.
So many keys, yet Mr. Montgomery had chosen the one that would make her feel doubt every time she looked at it.
“Do you know why I chose that key for you?” Mr. Montgomery looked up from a stack of papers on his desk.
Cassie glanced over at him, startled.
“You used to carry around a pillow that looked just like it.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course I do. The pink and purple didn’t seem to suit your style, so I asked your grandmother about it and she said it was your way of carrying your father around with you when he was away. I thought the key could be a new, more adult way to carry him around.” He smiled in a way that showed how proud he was of his clever idea and Cassie could only smile back. The fact that he’d remembered was sweet. It made the fact that her father had forgotten stand out more than she’d wanted it to.