“Picky, picky.” Bree smiled. “Just like me.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “Says the woman who’s coercing me into having drinks with a guy named—what was it? Ferret? Muskrat? Meerkat?”
“Otter.”
Jocelyn shuddered. “Sounds worse every time you say it. Nice necklace, by the way. Did you find that at Spiritually Gifted R Us?”
“Target clearance section.”
“Very nice. Veronika would love it.”
“Who do you think picked it out?” Bree set her jaw and rang the doorbell. “All right, let’s get this farce over with.”
“It’s not a farce if you believe in what you’re doing,” Jocelyn said.
“Yes, well, I don’t.” Bree pasted on a fake smile as a woman opened the door. The beautiful blonde in a headband and floral sundress looked straight out of a Lilly Pulitzer catalog. “Hi! I’m Bree, the, uh, the palm reader. This is my assistant, Jocelyn.”
“Perfect! Come on in.” The blonde ushered them in. “I’m Krysten, the bride to be. I can’t wait to have my palm read!”
Krysten led them into a living room filled with pink, mint green, and silver decor. Cupcakes and balloons and women in pearls and pastel cardigans abounded. While uniformed caterers passed petit fours and guests sipped pink champagne, Krysten’s maid of honor called the room to order and announced, “Girls! We have a special treat today!”
“I don’t see any girls here,” Bree hissed under her breath. “I see a bunch of grown women.”
“Think of the tips and smile,” Jocelyn hissed back.
“Shouldn’t you be out speed dating with your dog?” Bree shot back.
“Carmen would never get with a guy named Otter. Actual and factual.”
The maid of honor continued, climbing atop the coffee table to hush the chattering throngs of women. “We know that Krysten and Daniel are going to have their happily ever after, but I thought that the rest of us might also want to know what the future has in store.” She had everyone’s attention now.
Especially Bree’s. “Daniel? Daniel who?”
“So we invited a real live palm reader,” the maid of honor continued. “Where are you, Bree? Wave to the crowd!”
Bree obligingly waved, muttering through clenched teeth.
“Try to look more friendly and less murderous,” Jocelyn advised.
“Hi, guys.” Bree swiveled her head, making eye contact with every woman in the room. “I know I look familiar to most of you. And I’m sure all of you know my grandmother.”
“You’re Veronika’s granddaughter?” asked a woman in a yellow silk scarf.
“The one and only.”
“Did you get the family gift?”
Bree nodded. “So she says.”
“Then I’m first in line.” The woman tossed aside her pastry and strode across the room. “She’s the real deal.”
“Are you sure?” A Botoxed redhead tried to wrinkle her forehead. “Her grandmother runs a tourist trap on the boardwalk. I always thought that was just a bunch of hooey.”
Bree squared her shoulders. “My grandmother charges fifty dollars for a twenty-minute session, and it’s worth every penny.”
The redhead laughed airily. “Well, tourists are suckers.”
“I’m telling you, it’s real,” the woman in the yellow scarf insisted. “I went to see Veronika right after I had my third miscarriage, and she told me I was going to have a baby girl in exactly fifteen months.”
The Botox enthusiast looked skeptical. “Probably just a lucky guess. Those people just tell you what you want to hear.”
Bree was audibly gritting her molars.
“The gender and the birth month might have been a lucky guess,” the first woman allowed. “But she told me the name of the on-call doctor that delivered.”
“Damn. You can get all that off a few lines in your palm?”
“Check it out.” The first woman grinned and held out her hand. “It says Jennifer Schwartz, OB-GYN, right there on my pinkie.”
The redhead elbowed her way to the front of the line. “Then you’ve already had your turn. Let someone else have a chance.”
“Yeah, but I had to pay fifty dollars before. This one’s free!”
Bree turned to Jocelyn. “Would you please go pour me another gin and tonic? Make it a triple.”
“That’s what your assistant is for.” Jocelyn hastened to make the cocktail, noticing as she did so that the counter was already lined with empty bottles of champagne and vodka. Whoever had bought the booze for this party had seriously underestimated the drinking propensities of the guests.
“I know.” A harried-looking bridesmaid was stacking discarded plastic cups and crumpled napkins. “The well’s running dry.”
“Not to worry; you still have gin.” Jocelyn splashed a generous serving into a pink cup. She glanced back at Bree, who was seated on the sofa, peering down at a woman’s palm. “This gives her extra psychic powers.”
“There’ll be more any minute,” the bridesmaid promised. “I texted Dan, and he—oh, thank goodness, there he is now.”
“I’m not here,” intoned a low male voice. “I’m a figment of your imagination.”
“What took you so long? I’m dying over here!” The bridesmaid who’d understocked the bar rushed over to assist Senior Year Dan, who was carrying a cardboard box full of bottles.
Across the room, Bree’s head snapped up. Jocelyn couldn’t blame her—Dan had aged well. Very well. He had grown into his tall, lanky frame, and his formerly frenetic energy had mellowed into infectious enthusiasm. He hadn’t shaved that morning, so he had a bit of dark stubble. And bonus: He was toting a case of sparkling wine.
Bree was staring at him in the same way that she had when she was seventeen years old.
“Baby!” Krysten all but pirouetted into his arms. “You’re not supposed to be here!”
“She told me to come.” He pointed out the abysmal failure of a bartender. “Something about a life-or-death champagne emergency?”
“My hero.” Krysten flung herself at him, almost knocking the box to the floor.
The crowd gasped. “Careful!”
Krysten turned to her guests, her smile both smug and sweet. “All this and wine, too. He’s a keeper.” She fluffed her hair with her left hand, prominently displaying the diamond on her finger.
“You are so lucky,” one of her friends said wistfully. “My boyfriend would never show up at a bridal shower.”
“Or know how to pick out wine.”
“Or look like one of the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy.”
“I know!” Krysten was basking in all the attention. “When he first asked me out, I thought he was too good to be true. I kept thinking he must be a secret serial killer or something.”
“Yeah, Dan.” The bridesmaid winked. “Do you have a bunch of ex-girlfriends buried in your backyard?”
“That’s my cue to leave.” He kissed Krysten. “See you later.” He took two steps toward the doorway, but froze when he saw Bree.
Dan looked at Bree. Krysten looked at Dan looking at Bree. Bree looked down at the palm in front of her.
“Bree!” Dan sounded delighted. Krysten’s eyes darkened. “Great to see you again. I didn’t know you knew Krysten?”
“Oh yes.” Krysten’s voice got syrupy. “My cousins hired her for the afternoon.”
“Hi.” Bree didn’t lift her gaze. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”
“He just finished medical school,” Krysten informed the room, in case there was anyone who needed to hear it for the thirty-eighth time.
“Almost,” Dan corrected. “I have one more year of fellowship before they turn me loose on the unsuspecting public.”
“What kind of doctor are you?” Jocelyn asked.
“I’m training to b
e a developmental pediatrician.”
Krysten was happy to elaborate. “He takes care of the kids whose parents haven’t slept in five years. Kids with autism, ADHD, rare genetic conditions . . .”
“And he’s leaving right now.” Dan strode out of the room before Krysten broke into song and interpretive dance.
“Bye, baby!” Krysten blew a kiss. Everyone oohed and ahhed.
“Here.” Jocelyn handed Bree the gin and tonic.
Bree threw back half the drink in one gulp, then straightened her skirt and adjusted her pendant. “All right, back to business.”
“Entertainment purposes only?” Jocelyn murmured.
Bree waved her away. “You know what would make the mood complete?”
“A crystal ball and a Ouija board?”
“A tip jar.” Bree clicked her tongue. “Be a lamb and rustle one up, won’t you?”
The combination of gin, tonic, and a long-lost ex-boyfriend inspired Bree to unleash her inner palmistry show-off. She traced love lines and life lines with her fingertips. She hummed and exclaimed. She made the kind of vague, positive predictions that placated the bridal brunch crowd:
“You’re going to meet a romantic prospect at Krysten’s wedding.”
“You and your husband are having some trouble communicating. But don’t worry; I see you reconnecting on a long airplane flight.”
“Buy stock in companies starting with A. You’ll thank me later.”
“You’re going to die peacefully in your sleep when you’re almost one hundred.”
The more rosy the prognostication, the more generous the gratuity. Jocelyn smiled inwardly as she watched Bree’s tip jar fill with five- and ten-dollar bills.
“You’ll be a fantastic lawyer,” Jocelyn said when she and Bree left the party and walked toward their cars. “You told all those people a bunch of stuff they already knew and got them to pay you for it.”
“Plus tip,” Bree reminded her.
“Yeah, and it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it.” Jocelyn whistled low. “I’d hate to go ten rounds with you in a courtroom.”
“I can’t stand this.” Bree stopped walking. “I’m a horrible person.”
Jocelyn stopped, too. “What do you mean?”
“All those things I said about meeting a romantic prospect, reconnecting with the husband, celebrating your next birthday in a city that starts with S?” Bree nibbled her lower lip. “That’s all true, but it’s not the whole truth. The ‘romantic prospect’ is going to be a one-night stand who’ll never call that woman again. The wife and husband who are going to reconnect over a long plane ride are going to be on their way to her mother-in-law’s funeral.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yeah. She’s going to die suddenly.”
“How?” Jocelyn couldn’t help asking.
“I don’t know. I didn’t get that much detail, and I didn’t want it. But that poor woman thinks she’s going to be taking a second honeymoon to Hawaii or something.” Bree slouched down as if trying to sink into the sidewalk. “I feel it. I know it. God, listen to me. I sound like my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother’s pretty awesome.”
“I’ve spent the last twenty years talking trash and basically calling her a fraud. And now I’m getting psychic news flashes about people’s dead mothers-in-law? No thank you. Do not want.”
“Well, look on the bright side—” Jocelyn started.
“There is no bright side.” Bree started walking again, so briskly that Jocelyn almost snapped a high heel trying to keep pace with her. “I’m never doing this again. It creeps me out.”
“You don’t have to do it again.” Jocelyn patted her friend’s shoulder.
Bree stopped again. “And another thing.”
“Oh boy.”
“I read Krysten’s palm. She’s cheating on Dan.”
Jocelyn literally bit her tongue for a moment. She tried to proceed with as much tact and caution as possible. “Based on what evidence?”
“I don’t need evidence,” Bree stated, as though resting her case before a federal court judge. “I felt it. As soon as she opened her palm, it was like a red neon sign flashing: cheater, cheater, backyard breeder.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything else that rhymed.”
Jocelyn considered this, then asked the obvious question. “I’m not saying you’re unfairly biased—”
“I’m not.”
“—but given the history you have with Dan, isn’t it possible that your emotions are clouding your judgment? Isn’t it possible that you just want his fiancée to be cheating on him because you don’t want him to get married?”
Bree crossed her arms. “It’s possible, but it’s not the case here. I know what I know.”
Jocelyn nodded. “Let’s just say for the sake of argument that she is cheating on him.”
“She is.”
“Who is she cheating with?”
“That I don’t know.”
“What? I thought you got a big red flashing neon sign!”
“That’s not how palm reading works, Joss. It’s not like running a background check through the FBI.”
“Hmm.” Jocelyn fished her car keys out of her purse and resumed walking.
“Well?” Bree sounded about two degrees away from her boiling point. “What are we going to do about this?”
“Nothing.” Jocelyn opened the driver’s-side door.
“We have to do something.”
“What is it you propose that we do? Go track down Dan in the middle of rounds and tell him his fiancée is cheating on him based on his high school sweetheart’s hunch?”
“Obviously we’re not going to track him down in the middle of rounds. We’re not going to tell him anything.” Bree paused. “And it’s not a hunch, it’s a gift.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “How the tables have turned.”
“We don’t have to say anything directly, but we could, I don’t know, warn him. Leave an anonymous tip.”
“It’s none of our business, and we’re not getting involved,” Jocelyn decreed.
“What if we followed Krysten for a day?”
“What, like tailing her in an unmarked vehicle and staking out her house all night? I’ve seen this Lifetime movie, and it doesn’t end well.”
Bree huffed. “If it were you and your fiancé, wouldn’t you want to know?”
“If it were me and Otter?” Jocelyn pursed her lips. “I’d want to know if he was cheating on me, sure. But I wouldn’t want to know if some bridal shower palm reader had a crush on my man and conveniently decided our relationship was doomed.”
“You’re completely misrepresenting this case,” Bree protested.
“Am I?” Jocelyn got into her car and put on her sunglasses. “Am I?”
“Yes. And frankly, I’m offended.” Bree did look hurt. “I’m not making stuff up to fit some delusional fantasy.”
“I’m sorry.” Jocelyn located a roll of Life Savers in the cup holder and gave one to her friend as a peace offering. “Here. I know the orange ones are your favorite.”
Bree popped the candy into her mouth but continued to seethe.
“Even if what you sensed is true, it’s not our place to do anything. We’re not the fidelity police.”
“So I just have to sit back and watch a really great man marry some faithless piece of fluff who won’t treat him right?”
“I’m sorry to say that yes, you do.”
“Palmistry sucks.”
“Come on, let’s go back to the house,” Jocelyn offered. “My mom is puppy-sitting against her will, and she’s going to disown me if I don’t get back there.”
“I want to go to the grocery store and get a whole cake,” Bree said. “The fake chocolate kind with the super sweet icing.”
Bree nodded. “I need to fill my emotional void with artificial colors and flavors.”
“You got it. We’ll stop on the way.” Jocelyn put the keys in the ignition. “Meet you at the grocery store in five minutes?”
“Why? Why does life work like this?” Bree asked. “Why is it that every time there’s a guy you really like, he’s already planning a wedding with a preppy blonde who’s sleeping with someone else?”
“I believe that Shakespeare asked that very same question in one of his sonnets.”
“Whatever.” Bree held out her hand for one more Life Saver. “Let’s go cuddle the puppies, gorge on cake, then figure out what you’re going to wear on your life-changing date with Otter.”
chapter 17
“It’s about time!” Rachel’s voice drifted out from the kitchen as Bree and Jocelyn let themselves in through the front door. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jocelyn tossed her handbag on the counter and rushed to relieve her mother from dog duty. “You know how bridal showers go.”
“I don’t, actually.” Rachel was seated at the kitchen table with her feet propped up on the chair next to her. “I’ve never been married, remember?”
“Count your blessings.” Bree ripped off her clearance-rack “statement piece” necklace as she trailed in behind Jocelyn. “They’re twee, tedious, and interminable.”
Rachel put down the can of diet soda she was drinking and glanced at her daughter. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Do you remember our senior year when—”
“Nothing’s wrong with me that can’t be cured with commercial baked goods and a one-way ticket out of this podunk town,” Bree finished. “How was dog-sitting?”
“Well.” Rachel gazed around at the gleaming marble countertops, fancy bronze fixtures, and cavernous refrigerator filled with treats Jocelyn had picked out especially for her. “We all survived.”
Jocelyn proceeded to the mudroom, where Hester was sacked out with all four puppies under the heat lamp Jocelyn had ordered online two days ago. “Where are Carmen and Curtis?”
In Dog We Trust Page 14