by Anne Canadeo
Lucy could tell he was proud. She was proud of him, too. He took his patients very seriously and went the limit for them.
“That’s great. What’s his name?”
“Horace. Horace Hamster, I guess. We’d better get the surname straight before we send the bill.”
“You really need to double-check that,” Lucy agreed. She happily reported that she’d finished the masonry catalogue. “An entire hour before it was due. I’m definitely getting better with deadlines. I didn’t want to drag it out and miss my knitting group tomorrow night. A psychic is coming to Maggie’s shop.”
“A psychic? You mean like a fortune-teller? She’s coming to knit with you?”
“To do a reading,” Lucy replied. “Her name is Cassandra Waters and she claims she can contact the spirits of people who have passed on. We met her at the Schooner Sunday morning. She said there were a lot of spirits waiting to speak to me.”
Matt laughed. “Interesting. What do you think they want to tell you, Lucy?”
Lucy shrugged and looked down at her plate, separating bits of chicken she planned to give the dogs. “I don’t know . . . that’s what I’m going to find out.”
Matt smiled and watched her. She hated when he did this, staring her down until she cracked.
Finally, she looked up. “What?”
He shrugged, his smile growing wider. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Can’t I stare at you? You look pretty with your hair wet.” He leaned over and flicked a curl off her forehead.
Lucy resisted his attempt at distracting her. “I know when you’re trying to change the subject, hon.”
“There is no subject, hon. You were talking about some fortune-teller at the knitting shop. Cassandra something?”
“Waters. And she’s a psychic, not a fortune-teller.”
“Oh, is there a difference?”
Now that he’d brought it up, she wasn’t sure. Lucy stood up and began clearing the plates. “I don’t know. I have to check. We really just want to see how she works. We told Edie Steiber we’d try to figure out if she was a fake. Edie’s niece Nora has been visiting the psychic a few times a week. She’s been giving her a lot of money.”
“Oh . . . I see. It’s sort of a favor to Edie then, having this woman read your fortunes at the shop?”
“Uh-huh.” Lucy nodded and continuing clearing. “Edie’s very upset. I guess we’re curious, too,” she admitted.
“It could be interesting. Aren’t you curious to hear what she tells you?” Matt seemed to be taking her seriously now. Or was he just teasing? She wasn’t sure.
“I guess so. I guess it depends on what she says,” she added. “You cooked, I’ll clean up.” She picked up the stack of dishes and headed to the kitchen, the dogs following her every step.
Matt leaned back in his chair and watched her, still wearing that little smile. As if he knew something that she didn’t know. And didn’t want to tell her. About her future?
Probably just amused that she was seeing a psychic. He was very rational and logical, being a doctor. He didn’t believe in anything that had not been proven by controlled, scientific observation or written up in textbooks. That had to be it. He secretly thought this whole business was a load of bunk, but didn’t want to make her feel foolish. Lucy more or less agreed with him. And yet, maybe she did expect Cassandra Waters to tell her something startling and true. Maybe Matt sensed that, too?
Lucy set a dish of chicken scraps for Tink and Wally on the floor and started loading the dishwasher.
She had no idea what Cassandra might say, but when she got home Thursday night, she’d give Matt a full report. And they’d have a good laugh. She was certain of that.
Chapter Four
“It feels strange, sitting here without my knitting.” Suzanne gazed around the table and took a sip of wine.
“And for once, we’re all here on time. Myself included,” Lucy added. “But I did ask her to come at seven fifteen, just to be on the safe side.” Lucy checked her phone, wondering if Cassandra Waters would be late.
Maggie had served a platter of cheese, fruit, and crackers and there was a bottle of wine and glasses on the oak cabinet nearby. No one was eating or drinking much tonight, anxious about the psychic reading, Lucy suspected. Though no one had admitted that.
“It does feel odd, sitting here, staring at each other. Let’s knit while we wait. I don’t think any spirits who are waiting to chat will mind.” Dana put on her reading glasses and picked up her knitting bag.
“What are we watching for, exactly? Will she pull cards from her sleeve, or something like that?” Phoebe tugged a bright orange project from her bag. Lucy couldn’t tell what it was it going to be; there were only a few rows done so far.
Phoebe had switched for the warmer months from marketing socks on her Crafty Cricket Web page to selling knitted bikinis. Lucy suspected she was a starting work on a new order—which would not take long, considering the garment’s scant design.
“It’s not exactly what the psychic does. It’s what we do,” Dana noted. “We’ll be revealing information, usually without realizing it. And she’ll give it back to us, and make it sound as if she’s telling us something she shouldn’t really know.”
“I get it . . . I think.” Phoebe turned to Lucy. “Do you?”
“She probably fishes around, tossing out scenarios that seem likely, and watches to see how you respond. Even a twitch of an eyebrow tells her something. Is that what you mean, Dana?” Lucy asked.
“That’s it. Exactly.” Dana nodded and started her knitting. “She’ll read our facial expressions, our body language, even our breathing or eye movements. She’ll also size up the way we’re each dressed and which of us is wearing a wedding ring, that sort of thing. Then she works with those clues and drops some bait to see how we react.”
“Speaking of bait, do we really have to wait until she leaves to eat dinner?” Suzanne had been digging steadily into the cheese and cracker platter. She’d skipped lunch again, Lucy guessed, and was ready to take a bite out of her knitting bag.
“I’m afraid so. I only had time for takeout. Sorry. There’s some Chinese food in the kitchen, ready to go,” Maggie said.
Suzanne sighed. “All right. I can make it. I just hope my stomach doesn’t start growling. She might think it’s angry spirits.”
“Don’t even go there.” Phoebe was alarmed at the mere suggestion. A knock on the door quelled any more debate.
“That must be her, right on time.” Maggie rose from her seat. “You’d better put your knitting away. I’m sure she wants us to concentrate.”
The knitting needles, along with the wineglasses and cracker crumbs, were quickly cleared by the time Maggie returned with Cassandra Waters.
The psychic was dressed in the same long, flowing style that Lucy recalled from Sunday morning at the diner. But tonight’s outfit was made from an even sheerer, shimmery fabric, a deep bluish purple that made her eyes look lavender blue, too.
A shawl, finely stitched with touches of mohair, was draped around her shoulders, like a lavender cloud, Lucy thought. Her dark hair and heavy eye makeup contrasted sharply with her pale white skin.
She wore the big crystal pendant again and the heavy ring, on the middle finger of her left hand, along with a placid, almost ethereal expression.
“I think you’ve met Suzanne, Dana, and Lucy,” Maggie said, making the introductions. “This is my assistant, Phoebe,” she added.
“Well, thank you all for inviting me here, to read for you. I already feel good energy in this room,” Cassandra said, gazing around. “Have any of you worked with a psychic medium before?”
“No . . . none of us,” Lucy replied, answering for all of them.
“Can you tell if there’s any bad energy in the shop? Any angry spirits?” Phoebe asked quickly. “You’re going to smoke them out with some sage and stuff, right?”
Cassandra smi
led and opened her large handbag. “I will burn some sage if you want me to, and I always light a sacred candle,” she added, setting a large candle in a heavy metal holder in the middle of the table. “I do feel good energy in this space. A lot of creative energy. Many people who otherwise have no outlet for their creativity and deepest expression of their soul come here and find that,” she said, glancing at Maggie. “This shop is almost . . . a sacred space.”
Lucy could see Maggie trying hard not to beam with pride. But Lucy could tell she wasn’t buying it.
“We do hold classes here. The students seem very pleased. And productive,” she replied.
“I feel that. You’re doing good, sharing your gift. Good spirits are drawn to this place, and are helping you.”
“Really? Like little guardian knitting angels, do you mean? What a nice thought.” Maggie’s tone was light. Not sarcastic, but almost. She took her seat, opposite Cassandra. Lucy and Phoebe sat on one long side of the table, while Suzanne and Dana sat on the other.
Cassandra reached into the bag again and pulled out a bunch of dried leaves tied together with string. She lit the candle first with a wooden match, then lit the bunch of leaves and walked slowly around the table, fanning the smoke up to the ceiling and down to the floor.
“I’m just clearing the energy. Nothing to be concerned about. Perhaps some of you are a little anxious about our meeting?” she suggested. “It’s like static on a radio station. We won’t be able to tune in clearly if I don’t clear this off.”
Edie had been right, it did smell like a bathing suit fell in a campfire. Lucy tried not to breathe too deeply while Suzanne coughed and covered her mouth with her hand.
“I’d better get a drink of water. Be back in a sec.” Suzanne began to rise but Cassandra pressed her shoulder back into the chair.
“I’d rather you didn’t right now. You’ll break the circle. I just secured our auras.”
Cassandra gave her a stern look and Suzanne made herself tiny in her chair. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“That’s all right.” Cassandra’s hand slipped gently from Suzanne’s shoulder and she stood at the head of the table again. “Can we dim these lights a bit? It will be easier to concentrate.”
“The switch is right behind you. It’s a dimmer by the doorway,” Maggie told her.
The light above the table was dimmed and then dimmed again. Darker than you’d set it for a dinner party, Lucy thought. Is that how she gets away with her tricks? Because you can’t see what she’s doing?
The candle glowed brighter and Lucy found herself focusing on the shimmering flame. She looked up at the faces of her friends, cast now in shadow.
“I’d like you to relax and clear your mind as best as you can. Focus on the candle and the sound of my voice,” Cassandra instructed, her tone as smooth as silk. “Take in a deep breath and, very slowly, out again. Once more,” she coaxed. Like a yoga instructor, Lucy thought. There was silence for a moment. All Lucy could hear was the sound of her friends, breathing in and out.
Then Suzanne yawned loudly. “Oh geez . . . sorry. It’s been a long day.”
Phoebe muffled a laugh, but Cassandra ignored the interruptions. “Put both of your hands out on the table, palms flat, spread your fingers, thumbs touching. Let’s make a circle of our hands, that’s right, just connect, pinky to pinky,” she instructed.
Lucy and her friends all did the same, making a circle of their hands on the table. Lucy heard Phoebe muffle a giggle again and it nearly started her snickering, too. But she managed to keep a lid on it.
“Close your eyes and focus on your questions, the questions that have brought you to this place, this moment. It’s no accident that you’re here tonight, in this circle of energy, seeking answers. . . .”
Lucy thought of her questions. She couldn’t help it, reminding herself at the same time that the woman was a total phony. Still, the questions rose in her mind’s eye, like squadron jets in an air show, twisting and turning, looping across a clear blue sky. Skywriting in big, puffy letters: Will Matt ever propose? Do I have to force that stupid conversation? Will we ever get married? Have a baby? Live happily ever after?
Cassandra let out a long, noisy breath, and spoke with her eyes closed, her hands still stretched on the table.
“Spirit guides, spirit masters, spirits of our loved ones who have passed from this material realm, we gather seeking answers, seeking guidance to navigate this earthly plane. We are protected by the light of love and the circle of our auras from all lower entities.”
At this phrase, Phoebe’s head darted to one side; she stared at Lucy, looking nervous.
“We permit only positive, loving energy to come forth to speak with us,” Cassandra continued. “Thank you, God. And so it is.”
Lucy had snuck her eyes open already, but pretended they had been closed just as the psychic sat back with a calm, satisfied smile. Another moment of silence passed.
“We’re ready,” Cassandra said finally. “I feel the presence. . . . Yes, they’ve joined us.”
Phoebe gripped Lucy’s forearm like a vise. “I thought there were only going to be cards?” she whispered.
Obviously, not quietly enough. “Yes . . . of course. You requested cards. I have them right here,” Cassandra answered before Lucy could. “But cards are just a communication tool, like many others. Sometimes you speak to a friend on the phone and sometimes you send an e-mail, right?”
Phoebe nodded.
“It’s the same with spirits. They speak to me through different modalities.”
“Um . . . okay.” Phoebe nodded. Lucy could tell she was still nervous.
“You can leave if you want, Phoebe. It’s fine. You don’t have to stay for the rest,” Lucy whispered.
“Yes, Phoebe. It’s fine. Please don’t stay if this disturbs you,” Maggie added.
“No . . . it’s okay. I’ll stay.” Phoebe’s tone was shaky but Lucy could see her curiosity had won out.
Cassandra took the thick deck of cards and shuffled several times, then passed it to Suzanne. “Why don’t you start? Shuffle the cards a few times and think of your questions or concerns. When you’re done, just set the deck down in front of you. I feel your energy,” she added. “You have a powerful soul. A warrior’s soul.”
“Gee . . . thanks. I’m not exactly a pushover.” Lucy could see Suzanne glow at the compliment—she did fancy herself as a tough cookie. With a heart of gold, of course.
Cassandra knew how to endear herself to her clients, didn’t she? Lucy wondered what the psychic would say when her turn rolled around.
The room was silent and eerie in the shadowy light, the soft swishing sound of the cards like a bird’s wing, gently flapping. Suzanne set the deck down and turned to the psychic.
“I’d like you to make three piles, facedown,” Cassandra said. “They don’t need to be even. Anyway you like.”
Suzanne stared at the cards a moment, as if this was an important decision, then split the deck. She sat back and took a breath.
Cassandra smiled gently. “Don’t be nervous. Even if I see a challenge, I’ll explain it in the most positive light. There’s a spiritual solution to every problem. And a new beginning in every ending. I want you all to remember that.” Her soft voice reassured them as she flipped the top card of each pile.
Lucy had to admit, that wasn’t bad advice at all. In general. She already expected to see a few challenges in her cards.
Suzanne leaned over to stare at the cards that were revealed.
Then she glanced at her friends. “I know zilch about the tarot . . . are those cards good or bad?”
Cassandra shook her head. “There’s no such thing as good or bad. Think of it as information. It’s your choice to take action on these messages, or not. There is no predetermined future for anyone, though we all have a path or goal our souls have chosen before our birth here on Earth.”
Here on Earth? Were there any other planets to choose from? Lucy wonder
ed. She decided it best not to ask. Cassandra was clearly in the card-reading zone now.
She picked up each card, puzzled over it a moment or two, then pushed it to the center of the table. Then she flipped out a few more cards from each deck to make neat rows underneath.
Suddenly she pointed to the first card, a picture of three figures fighting in a field with wooden rods. Cassandra touched it with the tip of her index finger, her long lavender fingernail making a tapping sound.
“You’re having some conflict at your workplace? Some . . . rivalry?” she asked Suzanne.
“Yes!” Suzanne sat up straight in her seat, as if struck by a cattle prod.
Cassandra did not react, her eyes on the cards. “The energy is very strong, masculine, I’d say. But it could be a woman with a strong personality. We all have both masculine and feminine energy,” she explained.
True, Lucy thought. But that does get her off the hook from saying for sure if she sees a man or a woman, doesn’t it?
“Perhaps there are two rivals? Or a boss and a colleague?”
“Well . . . I am in a situation like that. With another saleswoman. She stole two big sales from me this spring. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to complain about her to our boss and sound like a crybaby.”
“I can see that. . . . You’re the strong, independent figure, on this side.” Cassandra pointed again. “Your manager favors her? Is that right?” Cassandra glanced up at Suzanne to confirm this guess.
Suzanne shrugged. “Maybe . . . Walter, the broker, likes anyone who makes him money.”
Oh brother . . . fish, fish, fish. Was Suzanne really going to fall for this? Cassandra already knew that she was in sales, from their conversation in the diner, and maybe had even learned more about all of them from Nora.
But Suzanne seemed to be eating it up. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any appetite left for their Chinese takeout.
“I can see from the cards below . . . this man with the bags of gold at his feet,” Cassandra explained, pointing out another card. “He’s interested in his business flourishing, whatever the cost. His intentions are not good or bad. Just self-serving.” She looked up at Suzanne. “He might promise to solve it. But he really doesn’t want to.”
