“Oh, she’s awesome,” Kellan praises.
I glance away from the screen, unable to witness Macy’s reaction. “Thanks. Anyway, I have this house for you today I think you’ll love.” I want to keep this as professional as possible.
“Considering you only know of me what Kellan’s told you, I’m interested in what you think will fit my tastes well.”
Challenging, but I don’t mind a challenge. Hell, I’m trying to sell Janice’s house. Still, I can’t help but sense bitterness in Macy’s voice. And a little distrust. “Okay, well as you can see this is quite a large entryway.”
Kellan flips the tablet around and moves it in a circle. “Honey, slow down. I’m getting dizzy here.”
“Sorry,” he says as he slows his turn. “I like this entrance. What a gorgeous chandelier!” He turns the iPad so she can take in the awesomeness of the light. “And check out these floors.” He’s now showing her the natural wood and how they complement the paint.
“Nice.”
She doesn’t offer any more words. Does this mean she is overwhelmed? Or she doesn’t like the house? “Okay, let’s move on. Which way? Right or left?”
“Um, left I guess.” He points that way with his darling, puzzled face.
“Follow me.” I turn on my heel (and they are spectacular heels I’m wearing) and lead him (and Macy) to the great room.
The vaulted ceiling takes me by surprise and our shoes echo throughout the room. The pictures in my database don’t do any kind of justice. “This is incredible.” He’s not looking at me, too mesmerized by the house. I love rooms like this where there is no distraction like a television, with cozy light furniture set against dark wood floors and windows inviting in the bright sun. This space deserve someone who can appreciate the ambience. This is somewhere I could enjoy a cup of tea and curl up with a paperback. Or lay my colored pencils out on the table and lose myself in the book for hours.
We keep walking through into the kitchen, which is easily the size of most of my condo. Cabinets surround the counters, which boast granite, something I’ll never afford. I show Kellan the huge pantry hidden behind a secret wall. Shelves stacked on top of additional counter space appeal to many buyers. “Do you cook a lot, Macy?” I make contact with her on the tablet again.
A laugh squeaks out of him. “She can dial the phone for delivery.”
“Kellan! I can cook. I just choose not to.” She looks at me. “Kellan likes to do the cooking, so why not let him?”
I slide my hand down the granite countertops as I smile and imagine him in an apron as he whips up a fancy meal. Just an apron.
“This kitchen is quite amazing.” He walks the perimeter again. “A tad big, though, don’t you think?”
“I love it.” I remember my kitchen back home, tiny and barely room to walk. The only decent sized cooking area I had was the one at the bed and breakfast, and that always was to make meals for other people. One like this would be amazing to me.
“Good thing it’s not up to you, Kate,” Macy interrupts.
I didn’t give the impression I was interested in the house, did I? This is the first time I’ve ever done something like this with a client on the tablet while we tour the house. The process is awkward, and I can’t decipher her body language, which bothers me. I can read Kellan’s just fine, and I don’t think he’s sold on this house.
“Well, I didn’t say I hate it. I agree that it’s quite large, though. Show us the rest,” Macy commands.
We continue through all the bedrooms and the bathrooms, which might as well be fit for a king. I thought this house was a winner, but he seems detached, as does Macy. I let the two of them talk and tell Kellan I’ll meet him by my car when they are done discussing the house.
I hope they make an offer. I’m not looking forward to any more situations where we have to do something like this again. In fact, I don’t think I would recommend this to any of my clients. The entire showing was a little annoying and I honestly think the easier route would be to wait until she can see the property in person. I lean against the trunk and zip up my jacket. I’m still getting used to the cooler, October weather. A text pops up from Ned while I’m scrolling through my apps.
Excited for our date. Hope you picked out something fun to do.
I did, and I’m slightly convinced he’ll think I’m crazy. I’m anxious for what I’ve planned. He had a few gigs with his band so we couldn’t schedule anything until now. Spending time with other adults is something I should have been doing over the past year. I wish I’d listened to my therapist sooner and made friends. I wasted so much time.
You bet I did. Be ready.
That will leave him guessing. I’m smiling as Kellan walks out with his iPad under his arm.
“So? What did you two think?”
“We like everything — the kitchen, the bedrooms, the stone in the bathroom. Not for me, though.”
“What about Macy? What did she think?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You hit the nail right on the head, pinned her taste down.”
“Then she liked it? Why not make an offer?” We’ve been scouting houses for over a month now and he hasn’t even come close to writing a contract on any of them. Sure, he’s not in love with it, but together they can make this house a home. They’ll have plenty of room to grow. If he’s not searching for a starter home, then he should just jump into one they can raise a family in.
“I’m not there. My personality is missing. You found a house that fits her to a T, but I can’t imagine myself living here. It’s too … big and a lot of upkeep. I need something smaller.”
“Okay.” Smaller. I can definitely do smaller, but I’m not sure I can find something with so many upgrades that would be up to par with Macy’s preferences. This may prove more difficult than a first time homebuyer who is fresh into their twenties and think they can afford the world. “Let me work on this. I’ll come up with something.”
“Still keeping that box in your car?” He nods his head toward my back window.
“I’ll get to it.” What’s in my car is none of his concern, though I should probably do something with it soon. That piece of my dad is too important to me. I’m waiting for a special occasion.
“You’ve been here like eight months, haven’t you? Maybe you’re stashing blankets in there in case you break down sometime this winter.”
“Maybe.” Keep guessing. I’m not going to talk about this right now, unless he wants to witness me falling to pieces as I cry uncontrollable tears. Last I heard, men weren’t fond of women who cry all the time.
“Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers. “You’re hiding Ned in there!”
“Stop!” I playfully punch toward him but don’t touch him. I don’t feel right touching him as badly as I want to. Even though the tablet is shut and Macy isn’t there, her presence lingers. “I’ll take care of it eventually.”
“Sorry I’m not a fan of the house.”
“That’s okay. Most of my job is people not liking what I show them.” This part doesn’t bother me. I don’t expect everyone to fall head over heels in love with every house I take them to see. Work would be a lot easier if things always went that way, but I’m realistic.
We start the drive back to the office where Kellan left his car. The radio is on my favorite station which only plays music from the nineties. Let’s be serious, that decade was filled with awesome bands. Everything from hip hop to grunge — I love all genres , but these are the songs I cherish.
“Do you want to drive to the game together in November?”
Our team was invited to a special tournament in Illinois. Tiffany and Taylor really want to go because there’s a chance to win money. I can take it or leave it. Gretchen and Clark are viewing the weekend as more of a second honeymoon since his parents will watch Mona. “I hadn’t really thought about it yet.” It’s still three weeks away. “I guess I figured I would ride with your sister and Clark.”
“No. Yo
u don’t want to do that. Trust me.”
“Is Macy coming?” I might as well ask. I would think his fiancée would come to support him.
“She never comes to these things unless she has to, and since you’re in her spot now, she doesn’t have to. Besides, she’ll be back in Arizona for work then, and doesn’t come back until the day after the tournament.”
“Oh.” A three hour drive in the car with Kellan all by myself. It could be entertaining, or pure torture, but driving alone would be no fun either. No one has offered to accompany me anyway, except Kellan. I probably would be more like a third wheel with any of the duos. “Sure. Why not?”
“Awesome. I’ll put a note in my calendar to pick you up that Friday morning.”
“Friday? The game is on that Saturday.”
“Didn’t Gretchen tell you? She got hotel rooms for everyone. We’ll stay the night so we can practice right in the morning.”
Like couples? Her and Clark, Tiffany and Taylor, and me and Kellan. Single bed or double? Does he know this? My eye twitches.
“Don’t worry. You and I have separate rooms.”
My confusion must have been obvious. “Whew,” I wipe my forehead. “I was worried there for a second.”
The truth is, I’m worried anyway.
Chapter
Eighteen
We're standing outside the tiny house, nothing hinting a palm reader operates inside. I expected a flashing neon sign in the window that said “Palm Readings.” Instead, we’re in a suburban neighborhood in front of a home with a white picket fence and everything.
"You can't be serious." Ned crosses his arms as he coughs to disguise a chuckle.
"Oh, I'm for real. This is on my bucket list.” I've contemplated for years going to a psychic of some sort. I always wondered if I was crazy wanting to let someone, others refer to as a hack, tell me my future. Even so, do I want insight into what’s in store for me? What if I don't like my destiny? What if my purpose doesn’t exist? If I find out I’m bound to be a failure in life and die alone in a cluttered condo filled with cats, am I better off being naive? No. I’m starting over. Part of my healing process is facing fear and embracing every moment. This is one of those moments.
"Why am I your first victim?"
We’ve only just arrived and Ned is already working my nerves. I want to enjoy our evening together and give something between us — anything — a chance. “I had a coupon.”
“What? A coupon? What kind of a fraud did you bring me to?”
“I’m teasing. No coupon. I heard about this lady from my boss.” Linda warned me to stay away from anyone offering discounts or specials. A true palm reader won’t diminish his or her gift in such a way. “And you’re not a victim. I’m not forcing you to do this. You can leave. But remember, you said I could choose." I point to the house. "I choose this."
He rubs his hands together to keep warm. I’m bundled up with my hat and gloves. November isn’t the coldest month in Wisconsin, but the temperature isn’t such that I would forgo layers. ”Do you really believe in this stuff?"
I’m not sure what I believe in right now. My mom got sick and passed away, leaving my dad desperate and confused. I took care of him for years before he started bowling again, and some jerk took his life from him. What’s there to believe in? Who is there to believe in when everyone I love is being taken from me? “I don’t know.” I find it difficult to process this loss surrounding me, and I respect the fact that there may be a deeper meaning. In order to find the significance in all of it, I need to start searching somewhere. “I want to find out.”
He clasps his hands together. "Okay, then. Let's go."
I yip in both nervousness and excitement as we walk to the doorway and ring the bell. Ned looks nice tonight with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. I notice a tattoo on his neck, one I haven't seen before. "What's that stand for?"
He touches his palm to the ink, his fingers running down the black lines. "Freedom."
The chain link is tightly sealed with a broken one at the end. The ink runs from the back of his ear down toward his collar bone. A story is weaved behind that — one I’m anxious to learn about one day.
The door opens and behind it is a tall woman, probably in her late forties, dressed in a button down salmon shirt and blue jeans. Her curly hair rests on top of her head, a stick shoved through it to hold it in place. "Welcome." Her voice shakes and is raspy as she blows smoke out from her cigarette. My eyes water as the vapor hits them. "Come in and make yourself comfortable."
We step into her home, pretty turn key with the wooden floors and open floor plan. Where is the beaded curtain, crystal ball, and the burning incense?
“Please, through here. I practice downstairs.”
We shuffle through the hallway leading to a door. I peek my head into the kitchen where a young girl sits at the table doing homework. I’m a tad uneasy going into this stranger’s basement, but the sight of the woman’s child brings a little comfort.
We reach the bottom of the stairs. The lower level is a walk-out and double doors lead outside. In front of the doors is a divider to darken the space when light pours in on a sunny day. A small table with a green tablecloth is the centerpiece of the area, with wicker chairs on either side, a pillow on the back of each. A table is to the right where she is diffusing essential oils and a dim lamp is on.
"I'm Carrie. Please, tell me your names."
Carrie. That’s so simple, so not New Age. I guess shock is what welcomes you when going into something with complete opposite expectations.
"Shouldn't you know that already? You're the psychic."
I jab Ned in his side. How incredibly rude! "Sorry, Carrie. I'm Kate and this is Ned." I’ll admit, the thought crossed my mind, but I know better to keep my mouth shut.
"No problem, dear." She takes her time getting an extra chair for Ned and we sit down. She joins us. “People respond like that quite a lot, actually. They think I can see the future and read minds. That is not what I do. I read your palm and your lines tell us what’s to come.”
"Same difference, right?" Ned whispers to me.
I frown at him. I seriously want to do this and he's mocking the woman. Let's hope she can't put a curse on us and, if she can, she only curses Ned because I believe in her.
Carrie ignores him, thankfully, and reaches out for his hand. "Let's start with you non-believer."
Ned shrugs as he allows her to take his hand. "You have three major lines — your life, heart, and head line." She traces each as she says the word. "Yours are pretty straightforward. This tells me you'll live a long life, but it won't be without its complications." She tightens her grip on his hand and leans in closer. "Have you already faced some challenges?”
"I'm in my thirties. You don’t reach your thirties without experiencing a few things." His eyes dart toward mine and he gives a half-smile before focusing back on Carrie.
"No, this is more than normal quote unquote experience. You've been to hell and back."
His lips start quivering and he clears his throat. "Okay, you’re up.” He yanks his hand back and wipes it on his jeans as though it will wash away what Carrie said.
I try not to explode into a laugh and manage to hold it back. I love that she freaked him out. I'll ask him about it later. I'm looking forward to my turn.
She takes my hand and hers are cold. I shiver as she outlines the first line. “You've loved and lost. Recently." My heart murmurs as I think about my dad. He would have enjoyed this, too. I nod as she continues. "You loved this person deeply and are trying to move past it."
"Yes." I whisper.
Ned scoots his chair out. "I'll meet you outside."
Why does he need to leave? I stayed for his reading. We’re here together, and he should support me. Carrie spooked him, but seriously, grow a pair, Ned! I wave him away, along with his cowardliness, so she can finish with me.
"Will I? Move on?"
She traces another line. "You wil
l, and someone who’s come into your life recently will help you and be a good friend. A lover perhaps."
Ned? After the way he's acting on this date, I'm not so sure. His chances at a third are pretty slim. He's attractive, and I could use some physical intimacy, but I don't want to share my past with him. Or my future.
"Your love line is very strong. You’re infatuated with someone in your life. Explore this. Follow where this goes."
She must mean Kellan. ”He's taken." Disappointment covers my face.
"The boy out there?" She points to the stairs.
"No. Someone else." Someone I will never be able to pursue.
“That’s good because I don’t think that boy is good for you as a lover.”
Who says lover? And when she uses the term, does she mean only in the sense of sex, or the entire arrangement? A relationship?
“I’m sorry, dear. Perhaps this man I'm seeing isn't the one with whom you’ll connect."
"Perhaps." Kellan and I won’t ever happen. Maybe I’ll meet another man soon. Or I’ll start collecting cats. I might as well get a head start.
"Is there anything else you would like me to try and answer?”
Plenty. Is my dad happy? Is he with my mother now? Will the bed and breakfast survive without me? Am I ever going to sell Janice's house? I don't ask her these things, though. Some things you just don't want the answer to. "No. Thank you."
"You're welcome, honey." She puts her hands around mine. "No matter what the lines tell us, you direct your own life."
I nod and we head back into the main area of her home. Ned is standing in the breezeway playing on his phone.
“How’d it go?”
“Good. Thanks for sticking around.” I say this with sarcasm, but he doesn’t catch it.
"You ready?"
We still need to pay, and Ned obviously doesn’t intend to do so. "How much?" I pull my wallet out of my purse.
Carrie glances at him, apparently having expected him to take the lead as well. “I charge forty-five each for thirty minutes, but since he scurried out so fast, I’ll only collect on yours.”
Sparing the Heart (Pastime Pursuits #3) Page 10
