by Keziah Frost
“Ever since my first reading, I have felt so much more confident, like I always know I’m doing the right thing! You’re better than a therapist, Norbert Z,” she informed him. “I’m going to start coming in for weekly sessions to keep me on the right track.”
Lolly had made several changes in her life due to the cards that had shown up in her horseshoe spreads, and Norbert’s interpretation of them.
Norbert held the deck away from her outstretched hand and dropped it in his man purse, next to Ivy.
“Lolly, it doesn’t work that way. You can’t consult the cards—or me—about your every move.”
Lolly protested. “Why doesn’t it work that way? If it’s okay to consult the cards once, why not once a week? Why not once a day, once an hour? What harm could it do?”
“No real harm, Lolly, except that you become dependent on someone outside yourself to tell you which way to go.”
Lolly folded her arms.
“What do you care, anyway? I’m paying you.”
“But I do care. I care about you—and all the people who consult me. See, you need to connect to your own way of discernment. Make some quiet time—go walking in nature, or listen to music, or doodle on paper. And just ask your questions. And receive the answers that come up. Your intuition is a very practical thing, after all. It’s based on all the things you notice, without realizing you’ve noticed them. Consult your own intuition, and you will see that it gets stronger.”
“If you won’t give me a reading every week, I’ll find a psychic who will.”
“Yes,” said Norbert, “I foresee that you will.”
* * *
The young woman called Gigi returned to the Good Fortune Café to give Norbert an update. It was a cold, dry day in the last week of December, and she was warmly wrapped and layered.
“I just wanted to let you know how much your reading did for me,” she said.
“So, you’ve been thinking about it? About moving to a warm spot?”
“I’ve done more than think about it!” she said, her eyes gleaming under her stocking cap. “Right after that reading, I went home and booked a flight to Albuquerque. As soon as the plane began to descend over New Mexico, I felt this—warm embrace—sort of—come up from the land, and I just felt that at last, I was coming home. And yet it was the first time I ever went there. Now, isn’t that a weird thing?”
Norbert nodded. In his months as amateur counselor, he heard weird things every day.
“Well, the sun was shining, and my spirits were so lifted, and I thought, as I walked through the streets and soaked in the atmosphere, I could really do this. This could be my home. Why not?”
“Why not?” echoed Norbert, entranced.
“That’s what I said! And as soon as I decided, everything just became very easy. I got a job, I got an apartment, and everything just went so fast, as if it were all meant to be. There’s no reason for me to get so downhearted every winter. I can have sunshine every day. So, it’s done!”
“It’s done?”
“Yes! I am just back in town to get the rest of my stuff, and say goodbye to a couple of friends. I had to tell you. I don’t know if this ever would have happened if not for your card reading.”
“Oh,” said Norbert, feeling the gravity of his responsibility. “And how did your mother take it?”
Gigi’s face clouded.
“She doesn’t know.”
“You’re going to move to New Mexico and not tell your mother?”
“I know. It sounds terrible. I feel terrible. But if I told her...” Gigi’s new happiness drained from her face.
“I see,” said Norbert. “She’d stop you.”
“She knows how to work me. She’d make me feel that I wouldn’t be able to manage without her, that she’d suffer so much if I left. In the end, I know I’d just give up. No, I can’t tell her. I’m going to send her a text telling her I’m in another state, and that I’m doing well and will contact her as soon as I’m completely settled in. And then I’ll block her number.”
Once again, Norbert marveled at how quickly a querent had put his suggestion into action. He knew nothing of this young woman. What if he was directing her toward the catastrophe of her life? Why couldn’t she think for herself? He suddenly felt very tired.
Gigi hesitated. “Or do you think that’s too harsh? You’re frowning. So, I shouldn’t just disappear on her, right? Even if she is going to try to sabotage me, I still need to tell her where I am.”
Norbert smiled wearily. “Now, that’s a question only you can answer.”
He felt he’d done more than enough for this querent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Nine of Spades: Disaster.
You are on the brink of taking an action that will have far-reaching consequences. Draw back from the precipice before all is lost.
It was a frigid day at the end of December. An arctic front had plummeted the temperature to five degrees below Fahrenheit, and the town was covered in six inches of snow over a solid foundation of ice. The hardy people of Gibbons Corner were used to this; they covered themselves from head to toe, wore layers over layers, and came out into the glacial air and the blinding brightness of sunshine on snow.
A young girl came into the café, stomping her boots and unwrapping her face. She was greeted by Hope.
“Summer! Come on in! What will you have?”
“Hey, Hope!” Hope hugged the girl. “How about some of that amazing pound cake and a nice hot soy latte? Oh, and I want to see Norbert Z,” added the girl, almost as an afterthought.
Hope brought Summer right up to Norbert; there were no appointments yet on this frost-bound day, and apparently this young lady merited the VIP treatment.
“Norbert, this is my cousin, Summer,” said Hope. “Well, second cousin, or cousin once removed—whatever—my aunt Carlotta’s granddaughter. Give her a good reading, you hear?” With a wink, Hope dashed off to work on Summer’s order.
“Don’t tell Gramma I came to get my cards read,” Summer called after her. “She told me not to bother.” Summer turned to Norbert in embarrassment. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Norbert realized now that Summer was older than she had at first appeared. Her eyes were blue and flecked with brown, and those brown flecks looked like a continuation of the freckles that speckled her nose and cheeks. He could see her grandmother’s strong will in her manner. But she was very different from Carlotta in one way. Her bright inner light was flickering; it was almost out; she was in a dark place. Looking at her, most people would see a pretty young woman, but Norbert’s experienced eye saw a person in despair.
It was not a despair that most people would notice, because it was skillfully masked. She approached everyone, including Norbert, lightly, outwardly cheerful. But Norbert, by now, was exquisitely attuned to the feeling-states of the people who came to sit across from him in his booth at the Good Fortune Café.
Over the years, Norbert had observed Carlotta’s granddaughter from a slight distance. He had seen that when there was a lull in the conversation, a hood seemed to fall over her eyes. While others noticed her radiant complexion, and heard her merry voice cutting through the chatter, Norbert had always noticed that Summer never allowed silence for more than a beat or two. She seemed to always be expending a great deal of energy, and trying to make it seem effortless. These were things that were easy to notice when he was an unremarkable and unobserved man—before he became a fortune-teller.
As Summer shuffled and handed Norbert the cards, a feeling of confusion and misery came over him. There was also something that made him want to get up and leave. Unceremoniously, with no regard for how strange it might seem. He felt sick to his stomach. Was it the flu? The café seemed to grow dark. If he believed in “energies,” he would have said a negative one had just come
into their presence. He was slammed by the intensity of it. With all his being, he wanted to take his card deck back and run from this pretty young woman. Some opposite force just as powerful kept him in his seat, taking the cards from Summer and arranging them into the horseshoe spread.
Norbert sighed, looking at Summer’s cards. It took effort for him to speak.
He would start with the good cards.
“The Four of Clubs shows that you are loved more than you know.” Stalling, he repeated, “More than you know.”
Summer’s expression was pleasant. She was apparently unaware of the atmospheric change. Maybe it was the flu. Hope swept by with the pound cake and the latte. “Looks like a good reading!” she observed, scanning Summer’s face and bustling off.
Norbert hung his head over the cards, massaging his temples. He went on. Words flowed from him that didn’t come from the card meanings; they were words that forced their way into the air between him and the young woman.
“You have a life lesson and cannot go forward until you learn it. That is why you are blocked. There is a great lie in your life. In fact, you are lying to yourself about something. You have a secret that is ruining your life. Bitterness is poisoning you. If you continue on this path you are on, you will do harm.”
“Harm?” Summer’s bright mask fell away. She was clearly alarmed. “What harm?”
Now Norbert pointed to the cards.
“There is an older woman, represented by this Queen of Diamonds. Next to her is the Three of Hearts, signaling a broken heart. The Six of Spades signals grief, and...”
“And?” Summer urged him to go on.
“And there is a pair of cards here that I don’t like to see together—the Nine of Spades along with the Ace of Spades.”
Norbert fell silent. He did not have the heart to go on with the reading. He felt like a machine that had run down.
Summer waited.
“What about the Nine and the Ace? What do they mean?”
“Well, it’s a sign that something very bad could happen. You have to be careful. The Nine could signal a disaster of some kind. And the Ace of Spades could be some sort of death.”
“A death?” Summer’s eyes were wide. “Who is going to die?”
“Perhaps no one,” amended Norbert. “There are many forms of death. It could simply mean an ending. It could be the end of an illusion or of a chapter of your life. There is a lot of power in this card. It signals a determining factor.”
“Wait,” said Summer. “First you tell me there will be a death, and then you tell me it could be just an ending. There’s a big difference, you know.”
“You’re right. There is a big difference. The fact is, I can’t tell which it is. I can’t see it. I can only say that there may still be time to avert disaster. If this loss comes to pass, there will be enormous grief.” Norbert felt weighed down as if by some force from outside himself.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” asked Summer, panic creeping into her voice. “You say I should be careful. Careful of what? When should I be careful? And this disaster I have to avert—what kind of disaster?”
Norbert looked up from the cards into Summer’s distraught face. He was sorry he had begun this reading. He was sorry he had ever begun to read cards at all. The harm he had feared doing, he was doing now, and he saw no way to stop it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Queen of Diamonds and Six of Spades:
A period of great anxiety. A woman of powerful character takes action.
Hope came out of the kitchen toward Norbert’s booth with a look of expectation, followed by confusion.
“Where’d Summer go so fast?”
Norbert was massaging the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed.
“She left.”
“Norbert,” said Hope, “what just happened here? Summer wouldn’t just fly out without saying goodbye to me. What did you predict for her?”
Norbert sighed, not meeting Hope’s eyes. “It’s confidential.”
“What? Come on.”
“You’ll have to ask her. I really can’t talk about my querents’ business.”
* * *
The next morning at eight o’clock, Summer did not show up at Carlotta’s house to walk Toutou. The temperature was predicted to rise to just above freezing that morning, and was due to plummet back to subzero the beginning of next week. This was the window to enjoy the outdoors. Summer was on winter break from school, and she’d said she would be over at eight to walk Toutou. Carlotta had already put Toutou’s boots on her to protect her paw pads from the ice and salt.
Carlotta was more than fit enough to walk her own dog, and she did. These regular walks with Summer were more like playdates for both her granddaughter and her poodle. At eighty, Carlotta felt sure that she had at least another twenty good years in her, but just in case, she had provided for Toutou, naming Summer as Toutou’s guardian in her will—along with providing a generous stipend for Toutou’s care for the rest of her life.
Carlotta and Summer shared many traits, one of which was a passion for punctuality. When Summer continued to not appear as the minutes ticked by, Carlotta became annoyed and then concerned. She dialed Summer. The call went to voice mail.
Carlotta said, “Summer, dear, it isn’t like you to stand us up. Toutou is waiting for you. Please call me back, honey.”
After the morning had passed and there was still no call from Summer, Carlotta bundled herself up like a mummy (a stylish one) and got into her burgundy sedan to drive the six blocks to Summer’s apartment. Her knock brought no response. On some impulse, she tried Summer’s door first to make sure it was locked. It was. She unlocked the door with her emergency key and entered Summer’s tidy and tasteful space.
“Yoo-hoo!” called Carlotta.
The stillness there told her in advance that Summer would not be in any of the rooms. She wasn’t.
In the bedroom, however, Carlotta found Summer’s appendage: her cell phone. It was lying on the bed—which was made. Had Summer not slept in her bed last night? The girl wouldn’t leave home without her cell phone. Summer’s open purse, minus the wallet, sat on the bed. There were so many coats, jackets and pairs of boots, it was impossible to tell if Summer had left dressed for the weather. But if Summer hadn’t left in coat and boots, what would that mean? Carlotta put that thought out of her mind.
Calm, Carlotta told herself. Cool heads prevail.
Who might know where Summer had gone?
Hope would probably know something about this. Carlotta left Summer’s cell phone on the bed, locked the apartment and drove to the Good Fortune Café.
Smooth jazz was playing on the sound system, and in spite of the Siberian chill, a few customers were scattered throughout the shop, sipping the foam off their lattes, and gazing into their phones, iPads and laptops. One young man sat anachronistically reading a newspaper by the fireplace.
Life goes on while my granddaughter goes missing, thought Carlotta with resentment.
“Hope!” she said sternly, wiping the smile off her niece’s face.
Hope left her post behind the counter. Carlotta stepped off away from customers to confer with her.
“Do you happen to know where Summer is?” asked Carlotta, trying to sound casual.
“No!”
Carlotta saw that Hope was already catching her panic.
“It’s probably nothing, but I have a little worry. It’s just that Summer was supposed to be at my house at eight. It’s now eleven. I called her and it went to voice mail. I let myself into her apartment, and her cell phone is there, but she isn’t. It just doesn’t add up. I’ve never known Summer to not be where she said she’d be. And I haven’t seen her separated from her cell phone since I first bought her one.”
“Oh, wow. No, Auntie, I have no idea where she is. But I saw her
yesterday afternoon, here. Norbert read her cards. She was smiling, so I thought she was getting good news in her reading. Next thing I knew, she was gone, without saying goodbye. And Norbert looked all worn-out and awful and refused to tell me anything.”
Carlotta’s eyes blazed.
“Is he coming in today?”
“No, he said he was taking a few days off. What with the cold weather, it’s been kind of quiet anyway.”
“Okay, here’s the plan. You call Summer and leave her another message if she doesn’t answer. Tell her she needs to call me immediately. In the meantime, I’ll be dealing with our fortune-teller.”
* * *
Carlotta zipped up Ontario Boulevard a little too fast for weather conditions. Norbert could probably tell her where Summer was, and if he knew what was good for him, he was going to cooperate. She slid dangerously past the stop sign on Harrison Street, but luckily no cross traffic was coming. She parked in the street across from Norbert’s little white house and toddled with care across the ice.
Ivy barked insanely when Carlotta pressed the bell, but welcomed her with wiggles when Norbert opened the door. Norbert looked ten years older than the last time she had seen him.
“Norbert, I’ll skip the formalities because I need to get right to the point. Do you know where Summer is?”
“Summer, your granddaughter?” asked Norbert.
“Exactly. Summer, my granddaughter. You read for her yesterday afternoon.”
Norbert indicated the love seat for Carlotta, and he sank into the floral armchair opposite. She sat on the edge of the cushion. She had no intention of staying.
Norbert said in his quiet voice, “I wish I’d never started telling fortunes.”
“This isn’t about you, Norbert.” Carlotta had no patience for the self-absorbed.
Norbert looked up at Carlotta and prepared to hear some very bad news.
“Summer has been missing for at least three and a half hours.”
“Oh, no,” cried Norbert. His eyes darted from left to right as he tried to think of a reason that all might still be well. “Carlotta, don’t worry. She probably just went to a friend’s house.”
