by P. G. Forte
In the kitchen, Robyn was busy getting ready for work – the summer intern position at a local nursery, which Scout had heard all about, at great length, the night before.
“Oh! Hi, there. Good morning. Care for some coffee?” She smiled brightly at Scout as she spooned cat food into a collection of plastic bowls. The cats twined impatiently around her ankles.
Scout had found Robyn’s perkiness hard enough to take the previous evening. First thing in the morning, after a too-short, too restless night, it was absolutely unbearable. Somebody is going to kill this woman for sure. I just hope it isn’t me. She cringed as the bowls hit the floor with a series of thuds.
A look of concern crossed Robyn’s face. “Oooh, do you have a headache? There’s some feverfew tea on the shelf over the sink if you want some. It always helps me. I didn’t wake you, did I? Or are you just not a morning person? Mornings I’m always in a rush, and I never notice how noisy I’m being until I’ve gone and woken everyone up.”
Robyn reminded Scout of her own younger self, except she was pretty sure she had never been so perky. Not by miles. Still, they were about the same height and build, with nearly identical hair color. In fact, Scout realized with an eerie shock, Robyn bore an uncanny resemblance to the portrait hanging in the foyer.
“Oh, no, I was getting up anyway,” Scout lied, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. It looked way too weak. She collapsed at the table and studied Robyn as she continued to putter around the kitchen.
“Well, okay,” Robyn said as she tossed her dishes in the sink and began washing them vigorously. “But you know, it’s probably quieter upstairs. I mean, if you did want to sleep in and all. ‘Least that’s what Caroline always said. But I guess you’d know that, wouldn’t you? I mean, since you lived here before. You’ve probably thought about that already, huh?”
Scout nodded absently. She sipped her coffee. Damn. It was too weak. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the physical similarities were all in her own overwrought imagination, or whether Caroline could have noticed it as well.
How would that have made her feel? Had Robyn’s relentless cheerfulness begun to make her think better of Scout? Was that what led to her being included in Caroline’s will? Or had she something else in mind?
“So, it looks like I’m going to be pretty late again tonight. And we’re almost out of cat food.” Robyn’s remarks snapped Scout out of her reverie. “So, do you think maybe...”
“Oh. Right.” Picking up the cue in Robyn’s tone, Scout smiled. “Sure, no problem. Why don’t I get some while I’m out today?”
“They’re pretty fussy, you know.” Robyn looked suddenly doubtful. “But I’ll leave an empty can out by the door, so you’ll know what brand to get. They’ll eat fish, chicken, liver and beef, but not turkey. Oh, and nothing shredded or sliced.”
Huh? “Oh, uh, right. Got it.”
“Okay. Cool.” Robyn grabbed her things and all but skipped to the door. “Well, I’ll see you later then.” And she was gone. Leaving Scout to the silent stares of the cats.
Nothing shredded or sliced? Gimme a break. Never mind the dog, whatever was she going to do with all these friggin’ cats?
* * *
“When do you think she’ll show?” Lucy asked, a little too casually.
Marsha regarded her friend with a wry smile. Lucy had been fidgeting ever since she got here this morning. It didn’t take a psychic to figure out who she was talking about. “Scout, d’you mean? Well, Ginny said this week. And today’s Friday, so the week’s already almost over.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any reason that we have to see her, right?” Lucy brightened at the thought. “I mean, it’s not like Oberon is that small a place, or anything.”
“Lies and malicious falsehoods.” Celeste slid into the seat next to Lucy. “Who says Oberon’s not small? That’s a big part of its charm.”
Lucy sighed. “All I meant was, it’s not so small that you can’t avoid running into someone if you don’t want to see them.”
“Oh.” Celeste thought about this for a moment. “So who is it that don’t you want to see?”
“Nobody,” Lucy insisted. “Nobody at all. I was just making a point.”
“Lucy’s in a very philosophical mood this morning.” Marsha couldn’t resist teasing. “Why don’t you give her a reading, Celeste? Maybe it’ll cheer her up.”
Celeste’s face brightened. She took out her cards and began to shuffle them.
“Yeah, that’s just what I need, all right. Uh-huh.” Lucy glared at Marsha and resumed tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. “Thanks, Marsh. You’re a real pal, you know that?”
“Not a prob, Luce. Anytime.” Hiding her smile, Marsha glanced idly out at the street, searching with her mind for the source of the restlessness she was once again feeling. She was aware of the conversations eddying around her, but she tuned them out with practiced ease.
She took a deep breath and let her eyes unfocus. The energy patterns that revealed themselves told her nothing. Everything appeared just as it should be. Suddenly, she stiffened. Had there been a flicker of awareness just then? Rather like a car, whose motion you barely detect as it disappears into a blind spot.
She searched again. And again she encountered a curious blankness. It was like being on the wrong end of a two-way mirror: she was sure there was something there, she just couldn’t see it. She snapped her attention back to normal, but she could still see nothing that would explain the curious sensation she had just experienced.
A slight breeze ruffled the sage in the planters and set the nasturtiums nodding on their stems. A few cars drove slowly along Main Street. People moved up and down the block. A middle-aged couple, obviously tourists, paused in front of an art gallery. A young mother dragged a reluctant child along behind her. Two women examined antiques in the shop window across the way. A huddle of teenagers, out of school for the summer, sauntered down one side of the street, seeming to take no notice of a second group of teens on the opposite sidewalk. A tall, strikingly blond woman walked her dog.
She looks like Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, with one of her hounds, Marsha thought, watching the way the woman’s head turned from side to side, as though she were testing the wind for the scent of prey. She smiled in amusement. All that’s missing is her bow, and a quiver full of arrows.
A belated shock of recognition went through her, and she gasped. She knew that lithe, loping stride, the alert twisting motion of the head. The streaked mane of hair might be a little shorter than she remembered it, but she would have bet anything that behind those sunglasses, a familiar pair of bright hazel eyes was coolly scanning the streets they hadn’t seen in twenty years.
“Well, holy shit,” Marsha whispered softly. “Speak of the devil.”
* * *
Scout stalked along the sidewalk, trying not to notice the irritating way the dog stuck to her side. Like she’d been glued there. It was a perfect morning, she thought. Sunny and warm, but not too warm. With just the slightest gossamer hint of a breeze. Much nicer than she’d expected for June.
Summer, as she well remembered, was not necessarily the warmest season here along the coast. More often than not, it was cooler and foggier than either spring or fall. Still, she had always been able to tell when it finally arrived. There was a peculiarly summer scent given off by the vegetation. Or perhaps by the earth itself, after it had steeped in sunshine for enough hours at a time. A musky, faintly dusty, dried-honey fragrance hung in the air. Scout breathed it in and a wave of nostalgia hit her so hard, she had to actually stop for a moment and catch her breath.
Across the street, she saw a shop whose adjoining terrace was set with umbrella-covered tables. According to the sign hanging over the door, the place was called The Crone’s Nest. That didn’t exactly scream restaurant, but Scout could smell breakfast on the breeze and she steered herself toward it. She was in desperate need of something a good deal stronger than that brown bath water Robyn h
ad brewed. It would take some serious caffeine to get her brain in gear today.
The Crone’s Nest? Sheesh. Only in Oberon would you find a place with a name like that. Just as she reached for it, the door of the shop burst open. Scout found herself suddenly enveloped by a cloud of sandalwood scent, quantities of emerald green silk, and a profusion of clinking bangles, all topped by masses of red-brown hair that could only belong to one person in all of Oberon.
“Marsha? Is that you?”
“Well, of course it’s me,” Marsha chuckled as she pulled away. “But you! Here, let me look at you.” She ran her hands through her heavy hair, holding it out of her face, and Scout couldn’t help but notice that her short nails were painted a deep, iridescent blue that glinted in the sunlight.
Marsha gazed at her intently for a long moment. Just as the scrutiny was beginning to make Scout uneasy, she shook herself, in a way that brought to mind a small and impatient dog. Grabbing Scout by the wrist, she began to pull her into the shop. “I only just heard yesterday that you were coming. It’s so good to see you! C’mon, we gotta talk. What do you want, coffee? Some tea? Chai maybe? No, wait. I know. A latte, right? I see you have your hound with you,” she giggled, seeming almost as giddy as Robyn. “Don’t worry, you can bring the dog in. Does she have a name, by the way?”
“Uh, no,” Scout answered, a little startled by the reception. “And yeah, a latte sounds great.” When the hell had Marsha become so manic? The Marsha she remembered had been a lot more laid back.
“Oh yeah, normally I’m much more calm than this,” Marsha said, reassuringly. “But I’m just so excited to see you!”
Scout stared; she knew she hadn’t spoken aloud.
“Oh.” A sheepish grin appeared on Marsha’s freckled face. “Hey, don’t worry about that, either. They tell me you get used to it.”
Deciding the whole conversation had become way too cryptic, Scout let it drop. She looked around her. There was a counter where several people were waiting to place their orders, a glass display case full of pastries, a refrigerated cooler holding fresh juices and a variety of energy drinks.
There were several tables scattered throughout the space as well, but that’s where all resemblance to a cafe ended. Tall shelves lining two of the walls were crammed full of books and green mason jars filled with roots and herbs and a variety of teas. There were vats of incense, bottles of oil, baskets of beads, and rows of statues on the low counters. In two large, lighted display cases were beautifully crafted cups, knives, jewelry, and crystals of every conceivable size, shape and color. Toward the back of the store she saw racks that held what looked like cloaks and gowns and long flowing robes.
“Um, Marsha? What is this place?”
“This?” Marsha’s shrug was determinedly nonchalant, but it could not disguise the pride she so obviously felt. “Oh, it’s just my store. C’mon, we’re out in the garden.”
As they passed the counter, she called to one of the young women working there to bring out a latte and another pot of tea. Then she led the way out to the terrace Scout had noticed from the street.
Scout breathed in the intriguing mixture of scents – coffee and lavender and fresh baked bread, rose, sage, cinnamon and thyme – as she followed Marsha toward a table where two women sat watching their approach. Some long buried emotion tried to surface as she recognized one of the women. Lucy Greco. Scout dropkicked whatever she’d been about to feel back into its closet and slammed the door shut.
Judging from the look in her dark brown eyes, Lucy wasn’t happy to see her. Fair enough. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about it herself.
Marsha looked from Lucy to Scout and back again, and groaned. “Oh, come on you guys! It’s been years. Get over it already!” She pulled out a chair and practically pushed Scout into it. “Don’t you know holding grudges is bad for the soul?”
Lucy made a face at her. “I’m Italian, Marsha. My soul can handle the occasional vendetta just fine, thanks.”
Marsha brushed that aside. “Oh, be quiet, you Strega. Scout, this is Celeste Greene. She and Lucy are my partners in the store.”
Celeste was a petite, waifish blonde with large lavender eyes. Scout knew a moment of disorientation as she gazed into them. That color was impossible, wasn’t it? Colored contacts, she finally decided, as she extended her hand.
“Very junior partners,” Celeste corrected, with a small shake of her head. “Marsha was the one with the initial vision. We’re just along for the ride.” Her voice was low and musical and the hand she placed in Scout’s was small and narrow, with unusually long fingers and a cool firm grip. “Scout. It’s a pleasure.”
“Yeah, me too,” Scout answered, sinking back into her seat, almost tripping over the dog who had chosen to settle herself directly beneath her feet.
“Scout used to live here,” Marsha told Celeste. There was an odd emphasis in her voice, as though there was a significance to what she was saying that Scout didn’t grasp. “She’s just reappeared. Somewhat unexpectedly. And as you’ve probably figured out by now, she and Lucy have some unresolved issues.”
“Oh?” Celeste looked at Scout speculatively. “Interesting. I guess that would fit, wouldn’t it?”
“Excuse me,” Scout said, annoyed at the unexpected drama. “What are you talking about?”
It was Lucy who answered. “Tarot cards. Celeste predicted you’d show up. Or, at least I gather that’s the consensus.” A flash of enjoyment suddenly illuminated her eyes as she added, “I’m not sure if you’re also supposed to be connected with a sudden death. But I seem to recall that was also part of the prediction.”
Oh, really? Scout took a deep breath. Drawing on all her acting skills, she answered as coolly as possible, “Well, I don’t know if I would call it sudden. I believe she’d been ill for a while.” Now it was Scout’s turn to enjoy Lucy’s discomfort. She raised one eyebrow at her and continued. “Or hadn’t you heard about Caroline?”
Marsha shook her head. “We’re all very sorry about Caroline, Scout. But this death hasn’t happened yet.” She made a face at Lucy. “If it’s even death we’re talking about. You know the cards aren’t always clear on things like that. Whatever it is, it’s still in the future. If you want, Scout, we could check out your tea leaves; they tend to be a little more specific.”
Not a chance. Scout turned to glare at Marsha. “Tea leaves. Tarot cards. Why am I not surprised? You guys haven’t changed a bit.” Surprised by the sudden surge of unease that raced along her nerves, she folded her arms protectively across her chest. “You know, I’m not so sure I want that coffee, after all.”
What she wanted was to not pass go, screw the two hundred gees, and get the hell out of Oberon. For good.
“Oh relax, Scout.” Marsha’s mouth curled up in a crooked smile. “It’s just one little latte. And I swear, I can’t read steamed milk for shit. If it makes you feel any better, we won’t even drink tea while you’re here.”
Marsha’s eyes flicked over her once, and then once again, a little more intently. Scout felt a hard jolt as if some internal switch had been thrown. Her heart slammed against her chest. She gritted her teeth, stilling the impulse to bolt from her seat.
A worried expression replaced the gleam of amusement in Marsha’s eyes. “Come on, Scout,” she continued, sounding suddenly a lot less self-assured. “We haven’t seen you in years. Stay for a while. I promise we won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. It’s not our fault that the cards knew you’d be here.”
“It was Robyn who knew she’d be here,” Lucy snapped. Her gaze bounced from one to the other of them, and then settled on Scout. She scowled. “Or Ginny, rather. I’m still not convinced about the cards. And anyway, I believe Celeste said something about a very young woman?”
“There was more than one woman indicated, if you recall.” A smile hovered on Celeste’s lips, “And really, Lucy, age is such a relative thing.”
“Look,” Scout interrupted. “I really have no
interest in any of this. I was just on my way downtown and I thought I’d stop and get some coffee. I’d ask what you’ve been up to, Marsha, but I think I get the picture.” And it wasn’t anything she wanted to take home and hang on her wall, that was for shit sure. She looked around and grimaced slightly. “Nice garden, though.”
For some reason, that appeared to amuse Marsha. A smile flickered on the edges of her mouth. “Yes, isn’t it? Oh, thanks Vanessa,” she added, as the waitress deposited Scout’s coffee, a large teapot, and several cups and saucers on the table.
Lucy handed her empty cup back to the waitress. “Vanessa, I’ll have an espresso, when you get a chance. A double, please. And maybe a couple of the anisette biscotti?” She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and stared once more at Scout. “So, you like my garden, huh?”
“Yeah, I do.” Scout looked around appreciatively. Then Lucy’s words sunk in. “Wait a minute. Your garden?”
“Lucy is very talented at landscape design.” Marsha smiled at her friend fondly. “Among other things. We were one of her very first projects. The whole terrace is her baby. See? I knew you two could find something in common to talk about.”
“I’m not exactly sure it qualifies as being something we have in common,” Scout answered dryly. “But it’s certainly a beautiful place.”
“It has a very peaceful, relaxing atmosphere,” Celeste said. “Ordinarily, that is. Are you sure I can’t pour anyone some tea?”
“No, thank you,” Scout and Lucy muttered simultaneously.
Scout didn’t miss the look that passed between the two women as Marsha handed her cup to Celeste. But there was no time to try and decipher it.
“Oh, come on, Scout,” Marsha said with a sudden show of impatience. “I’m dying of curiosity. What’s been happening with you? Where have you been all this time? What are you up to now? C’mon, girl, talk!”
