by Anne Canadeo
“Ha! That’s Walter, all over.” Suzanne sat back and shook her head. “But what should I do? How can I keep her from poaching listings from me?”
Cassandra took a breath and focused on the cards again, turning a few more over in the next pile. “This second card, a man tending to rows of wheat. This is a card of patience. The harvest comes to those who wait and focus on their own endeavors. This is the card of what can be.” She flipped over a few more cards in that pile and glanced at Suzanne again. “It appears this situation will clear of its own accord. If you focus on tending to your own rows, so to speak,” she added with another small smile. “You have great things in store for you, real victories—coming in late summer, or early fall.” She pointed to the last card Suzanne had turned over. A gladiator, riding a chariot with two wild-looking horses on the reins, one white and one black. “This is the chariot rider, returning from battle. He’s victorious but still must control the two horses, all the divergent energies. You’re a very busy woman, moving in many directions. Taking action on many fronts,” Cassandra said, characterizing Suzanne perfectly as she flipped over more cards from that deck. “Just stay calm and keep things under control. You have the strength and will to be victorious.”
“Wow . . . thank you.” Suzanne definitely looked pleased. “I guess I have more questions. About my kids, mainly. But maybe someone else should go.”
“I’m game,” Lucy piped up.
Under the table, Phoebe tugged Lucy’s sleeve, her head subtly shaking. “Don’t do it,” she whispered.
Lucy glanced at her and winked. Most of her friends thought she was so gullible. But she’d always thought Suzanne was nobody’s fool and she’d gotten sucked right in.
I’m going to show them that this Cassandra just plays you, works with what she observes, and then feeds back what you want to hear. I won’t give her any clues at all, Lucy decided. Then let’s see what the cards say.
The deck of cards was slid down the table. Lucy shuffled and split the deck into three piles, just like Suzanne had done.
Cassandra moved around the table and Maggie moved her chair aside to make a space. Lucy felt intimidated with the psychic hovering over her shoulder in the shadowy light. Her otherworldly expression and strange eyes seemed even spookier. But Lucy focused on the cards and held fast to her resolve.
“You’re a bit tense. Just breathe, Lucy. Relax.” Cassandra closed her eyes and took in a deep breath herself. Lucy did the same, her eyes open, though.
Cassandra studied the cards Lucy had turned faceup and nodded to herself with a small smile, as if acknowledging some private amusement.
“The Queen of Cups . . . fair and dreamy. Creative, sensitive, and gentle. Usually a water sign.”
It was Phoebe who reacted with a loud gasp, turning quickly. “You are a water sign . . . Cancer the Crab. And she’s an artist, too,” Phoebe added.
Lucy sighed, mentally thanking her . . . not. So much for not giving anything away.
She glanced at Cassandra. “So that card is supposed to be me, the Queen?”
Cassandra nodded. “Yes, it is. You don’t feel like a queen now, though. You are having some challenges in your kingdom. In your relationship sector.”
Lucy forced a bland face, then realized she was trying to force it, maybe even sucking her lower lip.
Her friends shifted in their seats, too. Except for Dana, who sat perfectly still, her hands clasped in front of her as she observed, as if from behind a one-way mirror.
Hiding her own reaction was not as easy as Lucy had expected. At least she didn’t reply, just glanced at Cassandra.
Cassandra looked at the next card. “Interesting . . . more cups. There’s some challenge or obstacle you’re facing in this relationship . . . maybe even a deception? This card, with the full moon and howling dogs . . . something is concealed. Things are not what they appear.”
“That’s often true,” Lucy said quietly, feeling a little sting as that arrow hit its mark.
“This card sometimes brings the message of a clandestine relationship, or a secret. But it also signifies that the secret will soon come to light. The action is happening at night. But in the full light of day everything looks different.” Cassandra turned, her blue gaze zeroing in on Lucy like a laser.
Lucy met her gaze a moment and looked away, feeling quite uncomfortable. She was determined not to react but could feel the color rising warmly in her cheeks. Her fair, dreamy cheeks, one might say.
She was facing an obstacle with Matt right now, wasn’t she? Suzanne seemed to think so. She certainly hoped there was no deception and reminded herself not to react. At least not openly.
Matt was not deceiving her . . . was he? A clandestine relationship . . . did that mean an affair? Oh, he wasn’t having an affair, that was for sure. But there might be a secret. Something concealed. They were happy together. But things were not as they seemed. He wasn’t ready to get married and didn’t even want to talk about it?
This is all baloney, Lucy. Don’t get sucked in.
Cassandra flipped out a row of cards in the second pile. “There’s a tall man . . . a suitable match. But some question hovers above. The Hanged Man. Indecision. Inability to take action.”
Of course she’d guess that I’m involved with a tall man. I’m tall, right? And I’m not wearing any rings. Dead giveaway that I’m single.
But who can’t take action . . . me or the “tall man”?
Lucy didn’t want to ask the question; either choice would be disturbing.
But what in the world did it matter what Cassandra Waters predicted about her life? You’re taking this much too seriously, she reminded herself. You promised that you wouldn’t, remember?
Still, she couldn’t help meeting Cassandra’s gaze.
“What does that last card mean?” Lucy asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
It was a lonely-looking picture, a bit unsettling—a long, bleak figure wearing a hooded cloak and carrying a lantern.
“That’s the Hermit. Isolation. The Hermit ponders important questions, searching with his lamp for answers. It could mean this question will be resolved . . . and you are alone.” She glanced at Lucy, quickly turning more cards. “But the card could also signify a time of isolation and meditation is over and a resolution is about to be found. It could mean you should ready yourself to move out in public. Buy new clothes. Celebrate some event.”
Lucy was about to reply, but Cassandra raised her hand. She closed her eyes and seemed to be listening to distant music . . . or distant voices. She quickly looked back at the table and turned more cards until she reached one that seemed satisfying.
“Here . . . that’s what they said,” she murmured to herself. She pointed to the last card she’d turned from the third deck. “This house with garlands and dancing women? There is a celebration in your near future, a gathering of friends and well-wishers. It will be in the summer. Very soon, most likely.”
She looked back at Lucy, seeming satisfied she’d reached the right conclusion. Or the spirits had given her the full message? “Whatever this question is, it will be resolved. You will be at ease at this point, having decided your course.”
Lucy nodded, but still didn’t know what to make of that conclusion. Her birthday was coming, a likely date for a celebration. But she and Matt had not planned a big party, just a night in Boston at the theater and a good restaurant. Her friends had said they wanted to have a cake for her at a knitting meeting and give her gifts then.
Everybody goes to parties in the summer—do you need to be psychic to know that?
And everybody hopes that their questions will “soon be resolved.”
Lucy sighed and looked back at Cassandra, who now stood beside Maggie, waiting for Lucy’s response.
“Do you have any more questions?”
Lucy shook her head. “I’m good, thanks. That was . . . interesting,” she added, feeling she should say something more.
She looked
around the table, wondering who would go next.
Cassandra leaned over and gathered up the cards. She nodded, looking pleased and satisfied at the reading. If she sensed Lucy’s doubt and suspicion, she gave no hint. She clearly had confidence in her powers. Another method that put her act over.
Lucy hoped her friends didn’t jump all over this Queen of Cups thing now—but she doubted they’d be able to resist. She cringed, imagining future nicknames . . . Queenie, maybe? Cassandra had nailed her with that card, but it could have been the luck of the draw.
But it appeared that the psychic could quickly and deftly fashion an interpretation to any card that fit her eager listener, no matter which strange image rose to the top of the deck. That actually was a talent, Lucy reflected. Along with her considerable acting skills.
Maggie went next and after her, Dana. Phoebe decided to pass, having had enough contact with the spirit world from the sidelines. Lucy was not surprised.
Cassandra had already pegged Maggie. Her reading was fairly predictable, Lucy thought. The psychic focused on Maggie’s creativity and how she shared her artistic talents with the world, but was not always a keen businesswoman. Lucy didn’t think that was true, Maggie was very sharp at business. But always room for improvement there, right? And an issue the psychic might sense was a sensitive one. She also talked about past relationships, sniffing out Maggie’s marriage to Bill, who she guessed had “passed to the other side.”
Or had she done a little homework online or at the library and found Bill’s obituary and local news of Maggie opening the shop a few years back and mentioned her recent widowhood?
The Internet had made it frighteningly easy to set yourself up as a psychic medium. Especially if you had good research skills.
Maggie’s cards showed a new relationship, “a harmonious match.” That had to be Charles, of course. But again, Cassandra could have gleaned this from gossip or talk between Edie and Nora. Or taken a guess.
Dana was clearly the hardest nut for Cassandra to crack. The only evidence of Dana’s reaction: a tightening of her clasped hands, which she was soon conscious of and hid in her lap.
Dana’s cards spoke about her “path” as a “healer” and the challenge of working with unstable energies. A card with twins, two faces—two sides of her personality, a public face and a private one.
All true, but easy to say about anyone—and Dana had told Cassandra she was a psychologist when they’d met at the diner, Lucy recalled.
Dana’s final card pictured an acrobat, juggling two golden orbs in a balancing act. Once again, a card that would have suited just about any woman Lucy knew. But it did particularly fit their pal Dana.
Was this all just eerie coincidence, smooth and clever improvisation? Or was it really messages from some other realm?
Lucy shook her head to clear the smoke and mirrors, remembering their promise to Edie.
Finally, Cassandra began to ease out of her trance. “I guess that’s all for tonight. I’m feeling a bit drained. The connection is fading,” she reported with regret.
Lucy glanced at her watch to see that precisely an hour had passed. The spirits were on a tight schedule, weren’t they? Maybe they had a union.
“Thank you so much for inviting me.” Cassandra gathered her cards and blew out the candle. As Maggie turned the lights up again, reality quickly set in.
Lucy walked Cassandra to the front of the shop and handed her a check in an envelope. “Thanks again for coming on such short notice. It was all very interesting,” she added, which was true enough.
“Good night, Lucy. And don’t worry. Things will work out for you. Eventually. You’ll see.” A misty summer rain had begun to fall. Cassandra drew her soft shawl around her shoulders and draped it over her head, in the exotic style of women in the Middle East.
Lucy didn’t answer at first, annoyed that the psychic assumed her predictions had been correct and Lucy had good reason to worry. I am not worried . . . am I?
“Good night,” was all Lucy managed to say. She watched from the doorway a moment as Cassandra darted out into the rain.
When Lucy returned to the back of the shop, she found her friends bustling around, quickly setting out plates and flatware on the table. Maggie emerged from the storeroom with a tray full of different dishes, and they were soon sipping won ton soup and passing around bowls of Chinese food.
And critiquing Cassandra’s performance.
“She’s good at stroking your ego with subtle compliments and flattering observations about your ‘energy,’ ” Lucy observed.
“Very good,” Dana agreed. “She had a wonderful knack for associating the pictures and symbols on the cards with the clues we gave her, just by our appearance and the little bit she knows about each of us. Even what she could tell from first impressions about our personalities.”
“That’s what she did to all of us,” Lucy insisted. “It was so obvious after a while. I bet she has some set lines she pulls out of her hat, for the working-mom types and the thirty-something singletons, like yours truly.”
“Lucy’s right. And I wouldn’t doubt she did a little research on a few of us,” Suzanne added. “Maybe just by chatting up Nora after she met us at the diner? That would have been enough to help. She could have even googled our names. We all have a few bits of personal information floating out there on the Internet.”
“Okay, I can buy all that,” Phoebe agreed, picking through a pile of lo mein noodles on her dish. “But how did she know Lucy was a water sign?”
“That is a fair question, but she might have just taken a guess. She could have just tossed out water sign and if Lucy said it was something else, adjusted her reply,” Dana suggested.
“Or maybe she did a little research and a copyright entry came up with my name on it. I do have a credit for illustrating a children’s book. They put your birthday down in the copyright information . . . though I have no idea why everyone in the world needs to know that. Thank you, Library of Congress.”
Maggie laughed at her dismay. “Oh, fear of turning thirty-five, rearing its ugly head again. You should be proud you have a copyright of something, Lucy. But she may have found the entry. That’s very true.”
“Well, folks, all I can say, is whatever she does, she’s darned good at it. But I don’t know that our observations really help Edie. We didn’t really catch her at anything, did we?” Lucy glanced around at her friends.
“No . . . we didn’t,” Dana agreed. “It would be interesting, though, to write down all the predictions and see what really comes true, over the next few weeks or even months. Sort of an evidence journal, like an experiment.”
“I like that idea. I’m going to do it,” Lucy replied. “I do think once you try to write down what she actually predicted you’ll find she didn’t say anything that definitively. There was always some wiggle room. Some possibility of this . . . or that.”
“Right . . . and that makes you want to see her again, and ask for clarification. Cha-ching.” Suzanne added her cash register sound. “In my case, I already know that the Warrior Princess, yours truly, will conquer the Evil Marcy Devereaux, client-snatching Witch. But it’s a comfort to know the universe is on my side.”
Suzanne turned her attention to Lucy. “How about you, Queenie? How did you feel about Cassandra’s predictions? I think the spirits pushed a few buttons.”
“It was a lot of fishing. Matt and I are not facing any challenges,” she insisted. “He’s not even that tall. He’s only five eleven.”
Her friends didn’t reply, just glanced at each other.
Maggie was the first to speak. She rose and cleared away some dirty dishes. “I’ll talk to Edie and tell her how we think Cassandra manages her act. I’m not sure it will help her convince Nora to end her sessions. But maybe Edie will use what we’ve observed to confront Cassandra and ask her to leave Nora alone.”
“That might be enough. Edie just wants to protect Nora,” Dana said. “Not necessarily chase
Cassandra out of town.”
“True . . . though sooner or later, I think somebody will see through this game and get pretty angry about being taken for a fool.” Lucy was happy to take out her knitting and forget all about Cassandra Waters. But it was harder than she’d expected.
She thought the evening would be an amusing lark. But the soulful, simpering Cassandra had gotten under her skin, as well as the eerie images of the tarot. Even chatting and knitting with her friends for a while after dinner didn’t completely dispel her mood.
When she got home, she found Matt had gone up to bed early and was asleep with a book open on his chest, a memoir of a naturalist who stalked a wolf pack through the wildest regions of British Columbia for a full year. You had to love a guy who read books like that, didn’t you?
Lucy lifted the book aside and turned out the light, relieved that she didn’t have to answer Matt’s questions about the session with Cassandra Waters right now. She was sure he’d have a lot of them.
She slipped into bed beside him, listening to the rain on the roof and windows, and the lonely sound of the wind rustling the trees. Images of the tarot cards filled her mind; was she really the dreamy Queen of Cups? Or the dreary Hermit? Neither alter personality fit exactly, though a note of truth still echoed within.
Lucy turned to her side and plumped her pillow, willing herself to fall asleep. It would be easier to put a light, breezy spin on Cassandra’s ponderous predictions tomorrow morning, in the full light of day.
Matt did not need to hear half of this.
* * *
Matt had to dash out early the next morning and didn’t get around to asking about the reading until they were together again that night. The rain had cleared and they decided to bring dinner—and the dogs—to the beach. Not always a good combination, but the dogs loved the outing so much, it was hard to ignore their sad faces when they saw a picnic basket being packed.
“So, how was the fortune-teller last night? Should we buy a lottery ticket this weekend? . . . Mmm, this is good.” Matt was in the midst of a thick sandwich Lucy had made with a few leftovers she’d found in the fridge, grilled vegetables and cheese and other odds and ends.
