by Patricia Fry
Savannah looked across the table at Rochelle, then said, “I’ve been thinking…” she laughed, “…probably over-thinking, actually. What causes some people who have psychic powers or who are—you know, able to read others like you do…what causes someone like that to turn bad?”
“Oh, you’re talking about Aviana…I mean Rita, right? Savannah, she may have had some weak power, but she was mostly snake oil as far as I could tell. If she had any sensitivities, she was misusing them. She somehow became misguided. I hate to see that happen, but it does.”
“How does that happen?” Peter asked.
“Well, sometimes when you realize you have something others apparently don’t have, especially when you discover this as a child, it can become overwhelming. Some people learn to hide it. If they do so at a young enough age, it often disappears. For some, it’s so strong they can’t hide it and it upsets them when it raises its ugly head. When they share it, they’re ridiculed. Some people begin to rely on people who have or claim to have powers.” She looked at Savannah. “That can be stifling. It can be a real burden.” She paused before adding, “It seems to pollute some people. They use it to control others and situations.” She winced. “And sometimes it begins to control them. Some unexpectedly find themselves on a pathway to evil and they get caught up in the power of it all.”
“Like Rita,” Savannah said. “Rochelle, you seem to be comfortable with your gift.”
Peter smiled at his wife. “She’s a gracious lady.”
Rochelle returned his smile, than addressed Savannah’s comment. “It’s a struggle at times, especially when you become aware of something that’s about to happen or you see someone you love headed for disaster and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. People have free will, you know. And some simply don’t want to know or to believe. Sometimes what you see doesn’t turn out as you thought it would because the individual makes a new choice. It’s a real crap shoot. It’s not an exact science, you see.”
“Interesting.”
Rochelle chuckled. “People don’t usually go around talking about their gift. As I said, some even try to hide it because they find it can get them into trouble.”
Savannah laughed. “It sure didn’t do much for Charmaine or Rita, did it?”
“Oh, I don’t know about Charmaine, but Rita was about as phony as they come.”
Savannah looked at her wide-eyed. “Well, she scared the wits out of me.”
“Yes, she was dangerous—one of the misguided souls I was speaking of.”
Before Savannah could respond, Michael returned and handed Savannah his phone. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Hi, Aggie, how are you?” Savannah said cheerfully as she excused herself from the table and walked into the other room.
“The question is how are you?” Aggie said. “I understand you had quite a fright last night.”
“Oh, did Michael tell you about that?”
“Yes. He mentioned it. I hope to get the details from you the next time we meet. It sounded dreadful. I’m so sorry you got caught up in that witch’s web. Why, if I’d been there, I would have…” Aggie chuckled. “But I wasn’t there and it sounds as if it all came to a rightful end. Just so you and your baby boy are okay.”
“Yes. We’re just fine. Thank you for caring. So, Aggie, when are you coming for a visit?”
“Well, that’s the second piece of business I wanted to discuss with you folks this morning. I’d like to land somewhere near you in time to witness my great-grandson’s birth. Will you have room for me?”
“We sure do. Come anytime. His birthday will be around the twentieth of May—about nine weeks.”
“I’m planning to make my travel arrangements today—so how about if I purchase a one-way ticket to arrive May thirteenth. From there, I’ll fly to Colorado and visit my other handsome grandson and his family.”
“Sounds good, Aggie. We’ll look forward to it.”
“Now don’t go fussing over me. I’ll blend in or sit out—whatever you want. I refuse to be a bother, hear?”
Savannah smiled. “You won’t be a bother, Aggie.”
“Will your delightful mother be there to help with the baby?”
“I’m pretty sure she will.”
“And we won’t be in the way?”
“No, we have plenty of room in this big house. It’s like a rooming house.” Savannah chuckled. “We have an intercom system to keep track of each other because it’s so large.”
Aggie was silent, then said, “Oh, well that sounds lovely. I’ll be in touch and we’ll make plans.”
“Perfect.”
When Savannah had ended the call and joined the others at the table, Rochelle stood and said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll start cleaning up the kitchen while you finish your breakfast.” She glanced at her watch. “We really need to get a move on. I don’t know how long it will take me to set up.”
Michael motioned for Rochelle to put her plate back on the table. “I’ll take care of the kitchen. Go get yourself ready.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Savannah said. “I’m almost finished.”
****
“Ever been to this place before?” Rochelle asked as she drove along the highway watching for a sign to the event location.
“No. I’ve driven past it a few times.”
“According to the information I received, it’s an interesting place—a former stagecoach stop and a lodge of some sort during the gold-rush days,” Rochelle said. “They opened it as a dance hall in the twenties.”
“Oh, there’s the entrance,” Savannah said, pointing. “Must be a big deal. Look at all the cars.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why I wanted to be a part of it. It’s a juried show and I was pleased to pass muster with my jewelry.”
“Is it all jewelry?”
“No. A lot of jewelry, but also other forms of artwork.”
“Why didn’t Peter show his art?” Savannah asked.
“We decided it’s best to keep our shows separate. We’ll do a few together, but it’s kind of nice to focus on one or the other. Usually, we attend these things together. We work as a team with his art and we plan to do so with my jewelry.” She smiled at Savannah. “But I’m glad you’re helping me with my first big show. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too. And I think it’s good for the guys to spend time together doing something recreational. Do you know what they have planned?”
Savannah giggled. “Well, they have Lily, you know. So she’ll probably call the shots. I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up at the playground pushing her in a swing.”
“Oh, that would be something new for Peter,” Rochelle said, parking the car. She became serious for a moment, “But he may need the experience.”
Savannah started to get out when she turned back to Rochelle. “Wait. You said he may need the experience? Rochelle!” she exclaimed. “Are you?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. But we’re hoping soon.”
Savannah took her hand. “Oh, that’s great. I’m happy for you.”
“Don’t be happy yet—it hasn’t happened. We’re in phase one of our attempt to have a child. We aren’t young chicks and things might not work anymore.”
Savannah stared at her friend and finally said, “I can so easily see you two with a child.”
Rochelle let out a sigh. “You can?”
“Yes. Be patient. It will happen.” She chuckled. “Hey, you’re the psychic. You should know.”
Rochelle shook her head. “It’s way easier for me to read others than myself. Things seem to get in the way of my own readings—my emotions and desires, probably. Sometimes I foresee a potential disaster and avoid it, but other than that, I’m not very good
****
“Gosh, this is quite an ornate old place, isn’t it?” Savannah noticed as they entered the spacious building, eac
h of the women with a rolling suitcase full of Rochelle’s jewelry.
“Yes,” Rochelle said, glancing around. “What a great restoration job.” She looked out over the hustle-bustle in the large room. “We’re in space one-oh-one. Do you see numbers posted anywhere?”
“Yes.” Savannah pointed. “There’s eighty-nine…ninety… I’d say you’re in that next row of booths. There it is—one-oh-one. Right on the end.”
“Great. I asked for an end spot so I could display my things on two sides.”
“Good thinking,” Savannah said, as they headed toward the booth.
Once they’d spread velvet cloths over the tables, they started to arrange the jewelry. Savannah couldn’t help but stop every once in a while to admire a piece. One in particular caught her eye. “I love this,” she said, rubbing her fingers over a striking necklace.
Rochelle glanced at the piece, then scrutinized Savannah’s attire. “Put it on. I think what you’re wearing will show it off nicely.”
Savannah fastened the necklace around her neck, then looked in a mirror Rochelle had set up. “I love it.” She put her hand over it and asked, “What if someone wants to buy it?”
Rochelle smiled. “If you want it, just hide it away. Consider it a gift for all your help today. Then pick out something else to wear. I want people to buy what we’re wearing.”
“Really?” Savannah asked, wide-eyed. “Oh gosh, look at the price. I can’t take this. But I will buy it from you.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind. It’s yours. Your help today is worth way more than that.” She waved her hand in Savannah’s direction. “Wrap it in tissue and put it away in your purse. Choose something else to wear.”
Savannah took the piece off, looked at it again, then hugged it to her. “Thank you, Rochelle. It is simply exquisite.”
“You’re welcome.” Rochelle picked up another necklace and held it toward Savannah. “Here, wear this one.”
Savannah took it from her. “Oh, this is beautiful.”
Rochelle grinned. “Simmer down, girl…although, if you want to buy all of my stuff, we can pack up and go home.”
Savannah laughed. “Yeah, I do like your style.”
“Then you’ll be the perfect representative for my wares.” Rochelle admired the necklace Savannah had just put on. “Looks great on you with that soft aqua top you’re wearing.” She smiled. “Yeah, that will sell pretty quickly.”
Just then a woman stepped up and began looking at the jewelry that Savannah and Rochelle had already laid out. “Lovely,” she said. “Just lovely.”
Rochelle smiled. “Thank you. I’m the artist.” She offered her hand. “Rochelle Whitcomb.”
“Hi, I’m Penelope Brownstone.”
“A writer’s name,” Rochelle said, looking the woman in the eyes.
“Huh?”
“Your name…it’s nice. I envision it across the front of a book. Are you an author?”
Penelope looked surprised. “Actually, I am…or…er…I will be. Um…” she stalled, “I’m writing my first book—a cozy mystery. I’m considering using a pen name—Penny Brown.” She cocked her head and looked at Rochelle. “But you like my real name?”
“I sure do. Yes, use your real name. You’ll do better with it.”
When Savannah noticed the woman contemplating Rochelle’s suggestion, she winked. “She knows what she’s talking about. I’d listen to her.”
Penelope looked from one woman to the other and said, “Okay, I’ll consider it. Thank you.”
As Penelope ogled Rochelle’s display of jewelry, Savannah encouraged, “Tell me about your book. You say it’s your first?”
“Yes, I’ve done a lot of technical writing and got tired of it. Well, I got tired of the subject, not the process, and I decided to try writing something light and fun.” Her face lit up. “I hope to produce a novel series featuring horses. I live with a lot of animals, so some of the stories will showcase my cats, maybe my chickens and rabbits, but mostly horses.”
“Way cool,” Savannah said. “I’m trying to write a book myself, featuring my cat. But it will be true stories.” She raised her eyebrows when she explained, “It’s his memoirs.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s wild,” Penelope said. “Has his life been that exciting…I mean to warrant having his memoirs written?”
Rochelle looked up from where she was arranging a display of earrings. She nodded. “Her cat has quite a repertoire of adventures under his belt. Right, Savannah?”
“Oh yes.”
Rochelle continued, “He has his own series of children’s books and he was featured in a documentary.”
Penelope stepped back, her eyes wide. “Rags? Are you talking about Rags?”
Equally surprised, Savannah nodded.
Penelope stared at Savannah. “You know what? I’ve met you before. You’re…um…I’ll think of it…it’s a place name…Charlotte, Havana…Savannah, right?”
Savannah nodded.
“Oh, this is crazy wild, meeting you here.” She looked around inside Rochelle’s booth. “Did you bring him?”
Savannah shook her head. “Oh no. Rochelle and I are hoping for a trouble-free day and, with Rags, you never know.”
“Yes, I remember,” Penelope said. “He was catnapped in LA, wasn’t he? And he walked home to a place where he’d never been in the middle of the night. I saw him on TV.”
By then Rochelle had stopped what she was doing and stared at Savannah with interest. “I didn’t hear about that escapade.”
“Catscapade,” Penelope said, laughing. She leaned toward Savannah. “You really ought to call his book “Rags’s Catscapades.”
Savannah laughed. “Good one.”
Just then, Penelope glanced across the room. “Wait here, I have something to show you.”
Savannah picked up a tray of bracelets. “Okay. We’ll be here.” She glanced at Rochelle. “Your booth is going to be so beautiful with all of your amazing jewelry.” As she arranged the bracelets, she said, “I thought you were designing pieces for a company. Are you representing them here today?”
Rochelle squinted. “Just minimally. I went to work for them with the caveat that I could design and market my own stuff separate from what I do for them. I brought just a few of the company’s pieces to display.”
Savannah scrutinized some of the jewelry, saying, “I think I can tell the difference.” She pointed. “This is the retro design you showed me before, right? This is what you’re doing for the company.”
Rochelle nodded as she placed a tray of rings on one of the tables.
“Your jewelry is more casual, yet elegant.”
“Yeah, that’s a pretty good description. I lean toward casual-modern with a Southwest flare.”
“Hmmm, is that how you want me to describe it to potential customers?”
Rochelle smiled. “It’s best to let them put their own twist on it, unless they ask. It seems that many people who are attracted to my work buy it because the color accents an article of clothing or it reminds them of a place they’ve visited—the beach, for example, or the Southwest, even New York. Sometimes they simply can’t resist how good it looks or feels when they try it on.”
Savannah smiled. “So I should encourage them to try it on.”
Rochelle nodded, then she looked at something behind Savannah. “Oh, here comes your fellow author.” She did a double take. “She has a cat.”
“Hi again,” Savannah said as Penelope approached. “Who’s this?” she asked, reaching out and petting the Himalayan she held in her arms.
Penelope smiled. “Buffy.”
“Oh!” Savannah said. “We have a part-Himalayan named Buffy.”
“I guess it’s not a very original name.” Penelope looked at the cat. “This one came with the name and we decided not to change it.”
Savannah smiled brightly. “Ours did too.” She then explained, “My husband used to board her
for a neighbor who traveled a lot and when Mrs. Armstrong died, he inherited sweet Buffy. We sure do love her. She’s the exact opposite of Rags—she never gets into trouble.”
“Same with our Buffy. She’s my first purebred. We rescued her from a hoarding situation. We didn’t actually know how beautiful she was until her fur grew back in and we got some weight on her.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Savannah agreed. “And she travels well?”
“Yes. She doesn’t complain about anything, actually. She’s a pure delight.”
“Nice,” Savannah said, scratching the cat behind one ear.
“Well, we’d better get back to our booth,” Penelope said. “Come visit when you get a chance. We’re number seventy-five.”
“I will. What do you have for sale over there?”
“Cat-hair jewelry.”
Savannah raised her eyebrows. “Made of cat hair?”
Penelope nodded. She held out her arm to reveal a felted bracelet of cat hair with tiny beads sewn into it. “This is made from Buffy’s fur.”
“Gosh, it’s stunning,” Savannah said. “Rochelle, take a look at this. It’s made from Buffy’s fur.”
“The cat?” she questioned, studying the bracelet. “That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, we have other things, too—toys, little kitty ears on a headband… Oh, that reminds me that I want to put one of those on. I’d better go get more organized.” She smiled brightly. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies.”
****
Rochelle’s booth had been extremely busy all morning and they’d sold several pieces when things slowed a bit and Rochelle suggested, “Savannah, why don’t you take a break and look around. Get some lunch if you want. When you come back, I’ll go.”
“Okay, I could use a little exercise.” Savannah’s first stop was at the restroom. Then she decided to visit Penelope’s booth. On her way to booth seventy-five, she wandered among several other booths, checking out various types of art and marveling at some of the skill and creativity put into the items. She was admiring a size-three baby dress with a crocheted bodice and hand-painted kittens playing around the hem when she heard a commotion to her right. She looked up to see a group of people gathered around Penelope’s booth.
