by M. Ullrich
“Minor hiccup along the way.” A half smile pulled at the corner of Imogene’s full mouth and then blossomed into something full, something sinful.
“Can I make a confession?” Catherine asked quietly.
“Please.” Imogene sat up straight with intrigue.
“I’ve gone to see Sophia since then. Twice.”
“You what?”
“She said a few things at the party that night that caught my attention. Alice convinced me I had nothing to lose, so I went.”
“And? Tell me everything.” Imogene drained her wineglass and listened carefully as Catherine recounted the tale from the beginning.
Catherine shared all the details: the timeline of her life plan, how her deadline was less than four months away, and, lastly, how she was convinced Richard Thorton had to be the answer.
Imogene’s jealousy simmered as she listened to Catherine go on about her handsome subordinate, but an odd sense of peace settled over her as Catherine described him as someone who “would do.” Imogene listened intently, or rather she watched intently. She watched as Catherine’s dark eyes lit up and her brows arched along with her tone. Imogene noted the small amount of makeup Catherine wore in order to soften her features, and she couldn’t help but notice the way the small buttons barely hidden by her suit jacket strained against her small breasts. She listened to Catherine for fifteen uninterrupted minutes before finally asking a question.
“What makes you so sure Richard Thorton is your guy?”
“His tie, and his interview was at eleven,” Catherine stated with certainty.
“I’m not following.”
“Oh! I forgot that part. Sophia told me that my lucky number is eleven, and the color blue was going to have ‘a big impact’ on my life.” Catherine hooked her fingers into air quotes as she spoke. “He was wearing a blue tie the first time we met at eleven o’clock.” Imogene felt herself blanch. Catherine continued with the story and finished with her and Sophia’s last, less comfortable meeting, telling Imogene she was interested in hearing about her future, not the past. Imogene sat speechless.
“It’s late, I should get going.” Catherine stood and made her way to the door.
“You don’t have to go.” Imogene jumped up to meet Catherine, already buttoning her coat.
“I’m pretty tired, and I’m sure you had a long day as well.” When Catherine turned to look at her, Imogene noticed their position. Imogene was leaning with her back against the door, her left hand gripping the doorknob. Catherine was close, too close for comfort. But no matter how loud the voice in her head shouted for her to move, Imogene felt pinned by Catherine’s dark eyes.
“I had a wonderful time with you, Catherine.” Imogene spoke just above a whisper and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Me, too.” Catherine was quick to respond. “Thank you for dinner.”
They were both smiling, and Imogene wondered if she was the only one having trouble breathing beyond a shallow gasp.
The spark was there, the invisible pull to be closer, the want, the need to feel Catherine’s lithe body pressed against hers simmered just beneath Imogene’s skin. And she could swear she saw the same emotions in Catherine’s face. Imogene looked from Catherine’s chocolate eyes to her mouth, subconsciously moistening her own lips in response to the temptation she felt. The thin tethers holding Imogene’s self-control in place started to fray as Catherine bit her bottom lip. As soon as Imogene shifted forward, Catherine moved away.
“I’ll see you soon.” Catherine reached past Imogene and opened the door, squeezing between her and the frame awkwardly and quickly descending the stairs.
Imogene closed the door and stood with her forehead resting against the cool wood. So many thoughts and feelings swam inside, all fighting for her immediate attention, but one in particular made its way to the forefront. “I’m going to kill Sophia for meddling,” she said to Vixen.
Chapter Eleven
Sophia cursed the gray area she constantly lived in as a psychic. She’d be bombarded with the private pain strangers tried to hide as she stood in the bread aisle of the supermarket and tried to focus on her own mundane decisions. She’d hear small messages from loved ones who had passed on as she tried to decide which dressing she’d prefer on the house salad. Sometimes the idea of going to a concert or party exhausted Sophia because it took too much energy to shut out the voices and the visions. But she wouldn’t trade her gift for peace even if she had the option.
She had helped so many people that a small difference in her genetic makeup felt more like a blessing than a curse no matter how she looked at it. The only major flaw she saw was her inability to help herself, and that was a predicament she was faced with Saturday morning. Chris said Imogene had called him and asked him to tell Sophia they’d be having lunch at one o’clock. No matter how great her gift, she had no idea what that warning sign was telling her.
In all of their years as friends, Imogene and Sophia spoke directly with one another. Imogene had never used Sophia’s husband as a middleman before, and this new development alarmed her. She hadn’t heard from her friend at all before lunch, no calls or texts, which was another red flag. The final warning, the one that sent chills down her spine was the look of anger on Imogene’s face as she stood in her open doorway at one o’clock on the dot. All the clues pointed to one very obvious conclusion: Sophia Glass was in trouble.
“You said you wouldn’t meddle!” Imogene didn’t even bother to remove her tweed coat before sitting in the empty seat opposite Sophia. “You promised!”
“I didn’t meddle.” Sophia’s attempt at defending herself was shot down.
“I should’ve known when you told me to wear that damn blue sweater to my meeting with Catherine. It was weird, but sometimes you’re just weird so I overlooked it. I overlooked it because I didn’t think my friend, my best friend, would try to play matchmaker and push me toward a confused straight woman!” Sophia sat quietly on the receiving end of Imogene’s tantrum. “A woman who is hell-bent on finding happiness with a man she’s not even interested in, by the way. You’re going to tell me why, right now.”
“Imogene, you know I can’t tell you anything that took place between myself and Catherine.”
“She already told me about your two meetings.”
Sophia was surprised Catherine had shared that information with Imogene, but the shock wore off and was replaced with satisfaction at knowing Catherine was opening up to Imogene.
“Don’t do that!”
“What?” Sophia jumped at the sudden volume of Imogene’s voice.
“That look you get when you either see something, have a secret, or know you’re right. It’s infuriating!” Imogene stood and started to pace. “Just tell me what you can.”
Sophia could tell how frustrated Imogene was by the way she was frantically batting at her thick hair covering her face. “You obviously know about the blue thing.”
“And the number eleven. Really?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You gave her my apartment number as her lucky number. I’d expect something more creative from you.”
“Holy shit.” Sophia looked at her friend with wide eyes, a bright smile soon following. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“You are so full of—”
“And I saw you.” Sophia stopped the accusation. “I think you’re going to be the reason for Catherine’s happiness.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see that much.” Sophia furrowed her brow, thinking another meeting with Catherine could be beneficial for all three of them.
“So for all you know, I could be the one to introduce her to Mr. Right,” Imogene said sadly, leaving Sophia to wonder if there was more to her friend and Catherine’s relationship than Imogene let on.
“It’s possible.”
Imogene ended the conversation abruptly and walked to the door. “You’re buying me lunch.”
/> “It’s the least I can do,” Sophia said as she got her coat.
“Damn straight.” Imogene quirked an eyebrow. “Are you going to a funeral after work?”
“What?” Sophia looked down in confusion and remembered the all black ensemble she had put on that morning. “Oh. My twelve thirty believes our readings are more successful if we wear all black.” She shrugged.
“Are they?”
“No.” Sophia smiled.
“You sure are dedicated to your work.” They left the office smiling, but the tension between them hadn’t fully melted away.
❖
On the opposite side of the Hudson River, Catherine was lost in a sea of graphs and numbers. Her desk was uncharacteristically cluttered with files and papers that didn’t have a home. Two of her largest corporate clients had figures to be worked out and delivered via email by the end of business on Monday, and she preferred to deliver results at least twelve hours prior to deadline. When Catherine closed her eyes, she saw large sums. When she reopened them, she saw paper evidence of those exact numbers. It was dizzying.
Not many people were in the building on a Saturday afternoon, and that made Catherine all the more grateful to have Vivian at her side during the weekdays. Whether it was delivering a fresh cup of coffee or reminding her that she needed food to continue at the pace she was going, Vivian always knew what was best. Catherine was hungry and grumpy without her. A headache had come to life behind her right eye. She made a mental note to make sure fresh flowers and a basket full of goodies would be waiting for Vivian early Monday morning.
When her cell phone rang, she swiped the screen to answer without even glancing at the ID. She needed to talk to someone, anyone other than herself. “Catherine Carter,” she answered almost mechanically.
“Catherine, it’s Sophia Glass.”
“Sophia! This is unexpected.” She stood up and started to pace her office. She wondered if Imogene had asked her to call because of the way she’d run out on her the night before.
“I know. I just wanted to call and apologize for the way our last meeting went. It’s been weighing on me lately, and I wanted to clear the air between us.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault, really. I should be the one apologizing.”
“No. You’re my client, and I should do everything in my power to make you comfortable.” Sophia soothed, her voice becoming undeniably soft.
“Apology accepted.”
“I’d like to make it up to you with another meeting—”
“That’s not necessary.” Catherine wanted to avoid that at all costs.
“I’d like to try to answer your questions, at least some of them. I won’t push you, but I want to help.”
“I don’t…” Catherine paused as a casually dressed Richard Thorton walked by her open office door. “I don’t have any time right now, do you have anything available after four?”
“Of course. Come whenever you’d like. I’ll be here until six.”
Catherine hung up and returned to her work while thinking about what she had gotten herself into. She cast one last glance at her empty doorway.
❖
Sophia heard the arrival bell above the door chime a little after five o’clock, and she went to see if it was Catherine taking her up on her offer. She peeked into the waiting area and witnessed a short, eerily quiet exchange taking place between Gladys and a visibly uncomfortable Catherine. Gladys was a woman of very few words, one of the things Sophia loved most about her. With a dirty look and a flick of an extended thumb, Gladys signaled for Catherine to go straight to Sophia’s office. Sophia smiled and opened her office door to usher Catherine inside.
“Is she that warm with all of your clients?” Catherine removed her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair opposite Sophia.
“Gladys?” When Catherine nodded, Sophia laughed. “You left in such a hurry last time you didn’t stop to pay your bill.” She leaned in to whisper the rest. “She thinks you’re a thief.” The expression on Catherine’s face was priceless.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry! No wonder why she hates me! How much do I owe you?” She started to reach into her coat pocket for her wallet.
“Don’t worry about it.” Sophia put up her hand. “You’re a friend of a friend, I can’t charge you.”
“This is your business.”
“Are you charging Imogene?” The knowing smile Imogene hated so much blossomed on Sophia’s face. “I’ll make sure to tell Gladys to tone it down.”
“Please don’t. She doesn’t need any more reasons to hate me.” Catherine rubbed nervously at her forehead.
“Okay.” Sophia sat back and observed Catherine. The gut-twisting sadness that accompanied her everywhere she went was back, as was her determination to ignore it. But Sophia saw it all, felt it all along with her. This time though, something new weighed heavily on her shoulders, and Sophia couldn’t help but hope Imogene had something to do with it.
“I want to try something new this time,” Sophia said.
“Like?” Catherine asked wearily. “You’re not talking tarot cards and crystal balls, are you?”
“I’d like for you to cooperate.” Sophia tried not to smile. “I just want you to relax and open yourself up to me.” She turned off the overhead light, leaving just her small desk lamp and the final traces of the winter sun to illuminate the small space. She took a seat next to Catherine in the partnering chair, hoping for a more personal connection this way. “Close your eyes.”
Catherine took a deep breath, closed her brown eyes, and rolled her shoulders. She even managed to remain silent for close to three full minutes.
“Anything yet?”
“Shh…” Sophia had closed her eyes as well, was concentrating on everything that surrounded Catherine, but she just couldn’t break through that outer wall. “I need you to really relax and let me in.” She reached across the small gap that separated the chairs and took one of Catherine’s hands in a firm grasp. Once the physical connection was established, an emotional one came to life. All the sadness and pain came flooding in, punching the air from Sophia’s lungs. Before she could think her words through, she asked, “How long have you been carrying this pain with you?” She held on to Catherine’s hand tightly, fearing she’d try to escape again. The last thing she expected was a timid response.
“Since college.”
She sounded so small, so defeated, and so open. “I can’t control what I see or feel,” Sophia started to explain again, “and when I started to see clients, I made a vow to keep secrets buried and inner turmoil covered. Everything that goes on between us in this office is private. I’ll never abuse my gift or tell another soul what we speak of, but I also won’t tell you anything you don’t want to hear.”
“Richard Thorton.”
“Excuse me?” Sophia was confused as to what the name had to do with everything she had just said.
“He’s the new guy at the office. Just tell me if you see anything about him. Whatever else that pops up along the way I don’t really care about.”
Sophia felt Catherine relax and let her mind open wide, thoughts and memories coming to life like a wilted dandelion at spring’s first rainfall. “I don’t see a Richard or any man in particular, but I do see great happiness for a thirty-year-old Catherine.”
“What can I do to make it happen?”
Catherine’s query struck Sophia as odd. “You can’t make the future happen, Catherine. You have to be patient and allow these things to come to you in time.”
“I’m not very patient—”
“Quiet.” Sophia tightened her grip.
Sophia got a sudden image of Catherine and Imogene seated beside each other. Imogene rested her hand lightly on Catherine’s thigh, and they were both laughing loudly. Before she could analyze the image any more, it was replaced by another vision of a younger, worrisome Catherine. That beautiful Asian woman Sophia had seen before was also there. Everything appeared the same until something
much more fiery came to life. Catherine was once a passionate woman, one who knew how to love easily and touch gently. Sophia felt as though she were blowing the dust off a long-lost treasure chest filled with adoration, glee, and ecstasy. She wanted to help Catherine discover it again for herself. Now that she knew the answer, Sophia dared to ask the question again.
“Will you tell me about Linda?”
A pained smile crossed Catherine’s face at the name. “I’m not ready to talk about it.” One lone tear made its way down her porcelain cheek. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” The tear let go of the hold it had on her squared chin, absorbed into black slacks.
“It’ll be hard to move on if you don’t let go.”
Catherine pulled her hand out of Sophia’s grasp. What was she so afraid of?
“Is there anything else?” Catherine said, wiping her tears with haste as she got out of the chair.
Obviously, the session’s over, Sophia thought. “I’m seeing a lot of your past, but not much of your future. I’m sorry.” Sophia sat back, exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions and disappointed in her inability to see more.
“I appreciate you trying.” She pulled on her coat.
“Catherine?”
“Yeah?” She turned back on her way to the door.
“Stop looking so blue.” Catherine dipped her head in a small nod and left the office. Sophia sat befuddled. She had never found herself in this position before. Catherine was the only client to ever deny her full assistance, and Imogene could get hurt because of it. And people assume my gift is always glamorous.
Chapter Twelve
By midweek, Catherine was exhausted. She slumped in her office chair, staring at her computer screen as she tapped her ballpoint pen rhythmically to the tick of the clock on the wall. She was so tired of looking at pixilated numbers, she fought to keep her eyes open. Vivian had already told her to take a half day several times. She said she was worried, that she didn’t look well. It wasn’t a lie. She was dressed more casually and hadn’t slept much since her last meeting with Sophia because memories of Linda Nguyen haunted her in the darkness. Each time she’d lain down to rest, everything flooded her mind with unwanted pleasure.
