Soul for Sale

by Masters, Cate

  Somehow, she knew he’d heard.

  Thirteen

  At the coffee shop, Madelyn searched for Gwen, who was nowhere in sight. She sat at the counter to wait.

  Sally smiled. “Good morning, sweetie. How are you today?”

  Her muscles felt sore, but the ache was gratifying. “I’m very well, thanks. How about you?”

  “I’m always fine, hon. I’m glad you’re looking so much better today. Like your old self.” She whispered, “I was worried about you last week.” She poured coffee into a cup and slid it across the counter.

  “Worried? Why?” Madelyn opened two packets of sugar and stirred them into her cup.

  Sally’s tone became soft, maternal understanding oozing as she spoke. “You’ve been talking to yourself so much lately. I know you’ve had a stressful couple of days.” She patted Madelyn’s hand. “And I talk to myself, too.” Her volume rose as she called toward the kitchen, “Don’t I, Al?”

  From the kitchen, Al answered, “Yup, all the time!”

  “Talking to myself?” It dawned on her, then, what Sal referred to – her conversations with Seth.

  Sally nodded. “It’s normal when you have so much on your mind.”

  Madelyn straightened in her seat. “You’re right, Sal. It’s been a crazy week. But I really am much better now. No more talking to myself.” She added with a grin, “I promise.”

  Relief was evident in Sal’s smile, though Madelyn sensed her concern was personal, not solely in relation to her business, though Madelyn would understand if the coffee shop wouldn’t want her business when she acted insane. It was more than that; Sally truly wanted Madelyn to be well.

  A man sat at the far end of the counter. Sally walked toward him with the coffee pot, but returned. “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you. Found it on the counter this morning.” She dug something from her apron pocket and handed Madelyn an envelope.

  “Thank you.” With trembling fingers, she opened it. Inside was a business card that read: “Remember: possibilities are endless. S.”

  A bittersweet happiness washed over her. She’d never see Seth again, yet he’d always be with her. Her chest welled with an indefinable ache.

  As she put the envelope in her purse, someone sat on the stool to her right.

  Madelyn lifted her cup to her lips, but released her grip, nearly dropping it, when she glanced over. “You.”

  Startled, his gaze pierced hers uncertainly.

  She looked down the counter to check whether Sal heard her. She’d broken her promise already.

  He tensed, as if poised to rise. “I’m sorry. Is this seat taken?” His shirt was pale green, his jeans indigo, his coat brown. Like his eyes, which took in all of her in a sweeping glance, sending warmth through her. Somehow, it was different than before, though she couldn’t pinpoint how.

  Sal hustled toward her, her eyes wide with excitement, her mouth open, probably ready to tell her to leave.

  Madelyn kept her mouth as still as possible as she spoke so Sal wouldn’t notice, but couldn’t find words to explain. “You don’t understand…”

  She braced herself as Sal stopped in front of her, her hands planted on the countertop.

  Sal smiled. “I see you’ve met my nephew.”

  In confusion, Madelyn glanced at the man next to her. “Your nephew?” Could Sal see him now? Was that an added benefit to regaining her soul?

  Sal beamed at each of them in turn. “Joey, this is Madelyn.”

  His smile was that of a patient, but embarrassed, relative. “Nice to meet you, Madelyn. You were about to say something?”

  Madelyn kept her focus on Sal, as if no one sat beside her. “No. I just meant… I’m waiting for my friend. Gwen,” she clarified. “She should have been here by now, and I’m a little worried.”

  Sal had no visible reaction, so Madelyn relaxed.

  “Oops, a customer. Excuse me.” Sal grabbed the coffee pot and hurried away.

  Madelyn flashed a thin smile his way.

  His smile was polite. “Guess I’ll have to wait for my coffee.”

  Maybe it was all some sort of trick. He’d never had coffee before, she realized. It would be a good test when Sal returned.

  He skimmed the newspaper. “You’re not in this edition, are you?”

  “Not this time, no.” Her nervous giggle masked her embarrassment. If he was Sal’s nephew, she must have told him everything. Hopefully she excluded the bit where Madelyn talked to herself.

  She sipped her coffee, pretended to look for Gwen but couldn’t help stealing glances at him. He looked real enough. More real, in fact, in colored clothing. His handsome features appeared more striking when he wore all black, but in everyday clothing, he was still amazing – and appeared more attainable.

  Under the weight of her stare, he looked up.

  A heated blush crawled up her neck. “Sorry. You look familiar. Like someone I know. Knew.” Seth was gone, she could feel it. Last night was goodbye. And yet, here he was. Almost. “But you’ve just moved here, I heard.”

  “Yes, from Seattle. I start a new job next Monday.” He folded his newspaper and set it on the counter.

  “Doing what?” Hopefully nothing as boring as taxes. Or as vacuous as modeling, though it was a definite possibility.

  “Pediatric surgeon. I’m taking over for a retiring doctor at the hospital.” He said it casually, as if it were nothing to brag about.

  She didn’t have to feign her emotion. “Wow. Impressive.”

  He shrugged. “Someone has to do it, right? What about you – what do you do? Besides save people?”

  She chuckled. “No, I only save people in my spare time.”

  The dreaded question. What did she do, anyway, besides errands and the bidding of others?

  “I handle the memberships at the Whitney Center for Science and Art. For now.”

  Intrigue alighted in his eyes. “Ah. And what is it you really want to do?”

  Joey was astute, as well as gorgeous.

  “I paint. I hope to live by my art someday.” The truth either put people off or opened up new doors; she hoped for the latter. His interest appeared real, so she added, “There are some good galleries in the city, if you’re into art.”

  He leaned an elbow on the counter, angling toward her. “I am. Maybe you could show me.”

  “I’d like that.” Like cosmic puzzle pieces floating to earth, things were falling into place. Normally, she didn’t like setups, but technically, this didn’t fall into that category. They’d met before Sal introduced them. And Joey felt comfortably familiar, though she had trouble picturing herself calling him Joey.

  He leaned his shoulder into hers. “But only if you promise not to call me Joey.”

  She smiled. “Deal.”

  Her cell phone rang. When she answered, it was Gwen, who couldn’t make it. “But what about the exhibit? Today’s the last day.” All apologies, Gwen persisted, saying it couldn’t be helped. “All right. I understand. Yes, good luck with your pipes.”

  Madelyn dropped her cell phone into her purse.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She pulled some money from her purse to pay for her coffee. “My friend Gwen, who was supposed to meet me. Her kitchen pipes sprung a leak, she has to wait for the plumber, which will probably take all day. We were supposed to go to The Seventh Street Gallery after we met here.” She told herself to stop babbling, he couldn’t possibly care.

  “A new exhibit?” He tilted his head.

  She lifted her coat from her lap. “I’ve wanted to go for weeks, and today’s my last chance. Unless I want to go see it in Chicago.” The thought of going alone held no appeal.

  “I could be dissuaded from unpacking. If you’d like some company.” He said it without the least bit of hesitation. Or devilishness.

  Possibilities, Seth had said.

  She could learn to open herself to possibilities. To remain open, even if she might be afraid; to follow a path to see where
it lead.

  “Okay. That would be nice.”

  “I’ll get my coffee to go. Would you like more?”

  “Good idea.” She set her purse on the counter to get more money, but he laid a hand on her wrist.

  “My treat.”

  It was the best Halloween treat Madelyn had ever received. She stepped outside into the crisp November air, the blinding sunshine a reminder of last night’s intense light in her room.

  On the sidewalk, a young woman pulled a wagon. Riding in it were a young boy and a cardboard box marked “Free Kittens.”

  Madelyn smiled at them.

  The boy’s dark eyes assessed her with an intelligence beyond his years, as if he were an old soul. “Do you want a kitten? We have one left.”

  A tiny grey head peered from the box, meowing. Its green eyes locked on hers.

  “Look at you!” Madelyn reached down to pet it. “How adorable.”

  The mother laughed. “He hasn’t made this much noise since he was born. Look how he’s scrambling to get out.”

  “Really?” His meows sounded insistent, so Madelyn picked him up. His purrs vibrated loudly against her cheek.

  Joe approached holding two coffees.

  The boy said, “I think he likes you.”

  “I think so, too.” Joe reached over to scratch his neck. The kitten hissed loudly. “Whoa, he’s already your protector.”

  Madelyn held the kitten at eye level. “My protector?” He licked her chin. “Then I guess I have to keep him, don’t I?”

  The mother smiled as she tugged on the wagon. “You see, Seth? I told you we’d find Brutus a good home.”

  “What?” Stunned, Madelyn glanced from mother to son to kitten.

  “Oh, Seth named him Brutus,” the woman said. “You can name him whatever you want.”

  Madelyn hugged the kitten to her and its eyes closed as it purred. “No, Brutus is a wonderful name. Thank you.”

  As the mother tugged the wagon down the street, the boy winked at Madelyn.

  ###

  About the Author

  Cate Masters loves stories with a dash of magic, mayhem and romance. Multipublished in contemporary to historical, sweet to erotic, fantasy/dark fantasy to speculative, she sometimes mashes genres. Reviewers have described her stories as “so compelling, I did not want to put it down,” and “such romantic tales that really touch your soul.”

  When not spending time with her family, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

  Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at: cate.masters AT gmail.com.