by Nancy Warren
But, Gabby knew how business worked and, the way things were going, she couldn’t afford to turn down clients, not even older ones like Marlene. However, she would save that conversation until later. First, she needed to see if there was any way these two could help her. “I want your help getting hold of Kate Winton-Jones. The cell phone number I had for her no longer works.”
Ted shot a glance at Marlene and then looked down at his coffee. “She had a phone on my company’s plan. When the wedding didn’t take place, we canceled her phone.”
“Do you have a new number for her?”
Marlene said, “Why do you want to get hold of Kate? You know she’s married. She’s not going to wear that dress.”
Gabby did know that Kate was now married, and only because the fact had been mentioned in one of the articles slagging her and her business. She said, “Yes. I do know that. I just had this idea that if I could get everyone back in the room and we tried to recreate the scene that somehow we could undo the curse.” It sounded crazy. And she felt like a fool for even talking about her insane plan. Ted stared at her as though he agreed she was a crazy fool. But Marlene, again, showed an understanding. Not sympathy, which she could not have stood, but a sense of how it would feel to be in Evangeline’s shoes. She said, “Why don’t you ask the woman to reverse the curse? Maybe if you offered her something in return?”
“I would, but we cannot find her.”
“Damn.” Marlene’s long, red nails fiddled with her engagement ring. “Without the person who put on the curse there is no point re-enacting the scene.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Absolutely. I’ve got lots of ideas. I’m a little bit psychic you know, and very in touch with the spirit world. We’ll start by doing a reading.”
Ted looked as though he’d rather be playing golf. Or having his teeth drilled.
“A reading?”
“Yes. When I was an exotic dancer I learned to read Tarot cards. Settle back and try and get in touch with your inner goddess. I’ll go get my deck.”
She felt a headache forming. “Tarot cards? I think I need a miracle.”
Marlene shrugged. “Miracles I don’t do. We’ll start with the cards.”
She rose and went into another room, returned and handed Gabby a deck of cards that she removed from a silk bag. “I want you to shuffle the cards for as long as you like. Think about your question as you do so. Take as long as you feel you need.”
Gabby shuffled the cards. They were larger than normal playing cards and felt unwieldy in her hands. She tried to tamp down her skepticism; after all, if she could believe in a curse, she might as well rely on Tarot cards to help her find her way out of this mess. She tried to form the question she wanted to ask and finally settled on, “How do I get the curse on me and my business lifted?” She really focused her attention on that question as she let the cards flip through her hands. Finally, she stopped and glanced at Marlene enquiringly.
She passed the cards back and Marlene placed them so one card was in the center surrounded by four other cards. “This is a simple five card spread,” she explained as she laid them out. “Very good for answering a question.” As she leaned forward, her tight top stretched over her generous breasts.
Gabby felt an odd knot of tension in her belly, which was ridiculous. These were bits of cardboard with fancy pictures on them. Still, she felt a moment of fear before Marlene flipped over the card in the center.
“This represents the now, the central theme,” Marlene said. “The Queen of Cups is a very good card. It indicates female energy, often a real woman who is truly there to help you. Can you think of anyone like that?”
“All I can think of is that terrible woman cursing me.”
“This woman has hair on the lighter end of the spectrum.”
“Well, the seamstress who cursed me had dark hair.” She ran through the blondes she knew but couldn’t think of anyone who could be a positive influence on her current predicament. There was her PR rep, but she paid good money for her positive influence. “Kate Winton-Jones and Tasmine Ford are both blondes,” she realized after a moment. “But they both rejected my gown and helped put me into this mess.”
“The Queen of Cups is also associated with the excitement of a brand new love.”
She groaned. “I haven’t got time for a brand new love, now. I have enough problems.” Then she realized that both Marlene and Ted were staring and that her engagement ring was flashing at her like a warning beacon. “I mean, obviously, I’m engaged to a man I’ve known for years. That’s the only love I’m interested in.” She thought it was a smooth recovery, but Marlene’s gaze was strangely penetrating. What if she really was psychic?
Marlene flipped over a second card.
Gabby groaned. “The Fool. That seems about right.”
Marlene touched the edge of the card with her fingernail. “The fool can actually be good. It can suggest a free and happy spirit and spontaneity. However, in your case it’s reversed which suggests recklessness and, instead of a free and happy spirit, it’s about unnecessary risk-taking.” She glanced across the table at Gabby. “But that’s your past.”
“Let’s hope the future is going to be better.”
“That’s what the next card is about.” She flipped and nodded. “The Wheel of Fortune. This one reminds us things are always changing. It’s a reminder to live in the moment and, even if you’re on the bottom you’ll always rise again to the top. In a relationship, it can mean you need to put some effort into making your relationship work.”
She turned over the next card. “And here’s the Sun.” An enormous full sun, with a self-contented face and rays reaching down to earth beamed at her, while an exuberant figure on a white unicorn rode through.
“That’s a good card, right?” It looked so happy, it had to be good.
“Part of interpreting the cards is in what you believe they mean. But I would say, yes. The sun suggests you have come out of the darkness and into the light. It literally sheds light on the situation, suggesting clarity after darkness and confusion. It suggests success, completion. This card should help shed light on your past.”
Please let it be a good one. Even as she tried to remind herself not to take a pack of cards seriously, she clenched her fingers together as Marlene moved to the last card.
“And your final card, which suggests the potential within this situation.” Marlene turned over the card and smiled. “Well look at that. The Lovers.”
“Lovers?” How interesting, seeing that the man she was engaged to had been very clear that their relationship was strictly that of an old friend doing a big favor for another.
“Usually these cards mean what you think they mean. In the big picture, The Lovers card usually suggests finding your true love. Choosing with your heart.”
Choosing with her heart. When had she last done that? She had a moment’s pang of sadness.
Marlene sat back and contemplated the five upturned cards. “Wow. You have a lot of major arcana in your reading.”
The cards were lovely and the costuming on some of the characters was surprisingly intricate. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re experiencing life-changing events that will have long-term consequences. You need to pay attention to what’s going on in your life.”
“Why do you think I’m here?” She sucked in a breath. “I think getting cursed is kind of a life-changing moment.”
Marlene ran her hands in the air above the upturned cards as though reading their aura. She said, “That was in the past. This is about your future. I really find this stuff fascinating. There are so many powerful forces in our lives, some of which we don’t even understand.”
Gabby could only nod.
Her gaze strayed to the last card in the reading.
The Lovers.
Marlene tapped her talons against the tabletop. “What about your hair? Did she have access to your hair?”
It
was such an abrupt change of subject that Gabby glanced at Ted as though he could interpret Marlene-speak, but he appeared as baffled as she was. “My hair?”
Marlene nodded. “Remember when we were in Bali, Ted? The Balinese believe you can inflict evil spirits on someone through strands of their hair. It’s amazing what those evil spirits can do. This Balinese woman was telling me about how one woman cursed a rival and all her teeth fell out. Another caused his enemy to fade away and die.”
“How would I get a hair devil removed?”
“Probably we’d have to bring over a Balinese witch doctor.” Marlene glanced up at her. “Was your seamstress Indonesian?”
“I don’t think so. I think she was Eastern European.” But how well did she know any of her staff, really?
“It’s something to think about.”
“I’ll add Balinese witch doctor to the list,” she said. At least she still had her teeth.
“Maybe, since we don’t know what we’re dealing with, we should bring in some more consultants. I had a fantastic Feng Shui expert come through this house right after Ted moved in. She was great. We changed bedrooms when we found out our romance corner was in the TV room. I like my TV, but, you know.”
She rose to leave.
They exchanged information. She gave Marlene her personal cell phone number, something she gave to very few people. That’s how much she had come to trust this woman. And, as she gathered her things ready to leave she said, “Thank you.”
Marlene glanced at the Tarot reading still set out on the table and said, “Why not snap a photo of the reading? Just use your smart phone. You might want to refer back.”
She did so, more to be polite than because she thought she’d spend much time poring over those five cards and their meanings. Then she put her phone away and said, “I’ll save you the trouble of asking. I’d be more than happy to design your wedding gown.”
She was moved by her own generosity. While she waited for Marlene and Ted to gush their thanks, to her surprise, Marlene glanced at Ted, looking alarmed. He shook his head slightly.
Finally, Marlene fiddled with the Tarot cards so she didn’t meet Gabby’s gaze. “Oh. Wow. That’s so nice of you. But, an Evangeline gown’s not for me. I’m not some blushing young rose, just opening into bud, I’ve been in full bloom for a while and some of my petals are starting to droop.”
“I think you’re fantastic, babe,” Ted said loyally.
She winked at him. “Anyway, we’re getting married in Vegas.”
“Vegas?” Edward Carnarvon the third or fourth, or whatever number he was, planned to marry in Vegas?
“Sure. I’m going to wear something with a lot of sparkles. We’ll gamble, we’ll catch a few shows and we’ll have a fantastic time.”
She glanced over at Ted, expecting him to look as horrified as she felt, and saw that he was grinning in anticipation.
These two might not look like a pair but deep down they matched.
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations. Well, if you change your mind, the offer stands.”
“I appreciate it.” Marlene said, but Gabby couldn’t quite get over the feeling that Marlene was the one being generous.
She got back in her car and wondered what had just happened. She had offered Marlene her exclusive, sought after services and she’d had her generous offer thrown back in her face.
Would this curse never end?
Chapter 8
Wade found Gabby in the garden. He’d arrived more than an hour early for their Cheerio! interview. He had a few reasons for being so prompt. A confused housekeeper answered the door and claimed no knowledge of Evangeline’s whereabouts, until he introduced himself as Wade, the fiancé. Was it his imagination or did the woman look at him with pity? He wondered how long was the line of saps to fall for Gabby’s undeniable beauty. She grudgingly admitted that Miss Evangeline was in the garden.
He strolled around the side of the Bel Air mansion past the obligatory topaz of the swimming pool and there she was, kneeling in dirt, her hands in gardening gloves to protect the delicate skin and no doubt her fresh manicure, happily pulling weeds. She wore old jeans and a Yale sweatshirt he suspected had once been his. A large-brimmed hat protected her face from the sun and he thought the sight of her working methodically in the dirt was as lovely as anything he’d ever seen. He watched her for a minute or two and then, not wanting to startle her, called: “Gabby?”
She dropped her gardening fork and turned around. She rose with a smile. “I hope you’re early and I’m not late.”
“The interview’s not for an hour. I thought it would be smart of me to come and check out the place. If I’m supposed to be marrying you I should probably know what your house looks like.”
She laughed but he was certain he saw a faint blush. “My bedroom you mean.”
“It crossed my mind that a man who is set to marry you should know what the inside of your bedroom looks like.”
She nodded briskly. “I’ll just tidy up here and take you on the tour.”
When she’d finished putting her tools away, she put her hand in his arm and walked him up the path, across a flagstone patio furnished with deep and comfortable looking wicker furniture and through the patio doors and into the house. “This is the music room,” she said as they entered.
“You have a music room?” There was a grand piano, a complicated looking sound system and a couple of guitars on stands.
She laughed. “I know, I can’t play a note on any musical instrument. My singing voice is worse, but the house came with the music room and somehow it appealed to me. Back in the thirties, this place was owned by a Broadway star. I like to imagine old-time actors gathered around the piano, Mae West sitting on it and cracking jokes.”
As she led him through the house he realized that she had possibly unconsciously re-created the home she had once dreamed of owning. He’d been in London on business back when they were in the heyday of being in love and she had squealed with joy when she saw a real estate listing for a place in the Cotswolds. In her usual, spontaneous fashion, she’d dragged him down to some tiny town with a ridiculous name like Middlebury-on-the-Toadstool and walked him through a stone manor house that had probably sat on that very spot for half a millennium. The house had been owned by smart Londoners who’d hired a fancy decorator to create his signature brand of high style country living. That’s what this home reminded him of. The English antiques, drapes and carpets, the paintings and the gilt mirrors. She’d brought the Cotswolds to California. Upstairs she showed him an enormous, sensual bathroom, three guest rooms—one of which she used as a home office—and then, last of all, her bedroom.
“It looks like something Cleopatra slept in,” he said, gazing at the huge four-poster bed with a silk duvet and about a dozen lace pillows. A green velvet chaise with stubby curved legs angled across one corner of the room, large china leopards flanked a fireplace and full-length French doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked her garden. The one thing that struck him was that this woman who had been blessed with extraordinary beauty and who had made her fortune off her face had not a single mirror in her bedroom.
There were no signs of a recent gentleman caller and he didn’t ask.
She took him back downstairs and said, “I’d better go and change. Juanita will make you some coffee.”
She would have taken him by the hand and led him into the kitchen, but he stopped her. “I can find her. You make yourself ready.”
He knew it wouldn’t take her long; he’d never known a woman who could get ready so quickly. Maybe it was her background in fashion. He understood they did lightning-fast changes when they were doing runway shows.
He walked back to the kitchen and found the woman who had let him in peeling vegetables. “Juanita?”
“Yes.” She stepped away from the sink and wiped her wet hands on her apron. “What can I get you, sir?”
He shook his head. “Carry on with what you’re doing. I don’
t really want anything. I thought we’d get to know each other while Evangeline is getting ready. And please, call me Wade.”
She seemed a little uncomfortable making small talk in her kitchen. She seemed to have a need to feed or water him. “Coffee? How about some water? Or some tea? I’ve got iced tea in the fridge? Or, if you’re hungry, I could make you some eggs.”
He suddenly felt foolish being in the kitchen and not eating food as though he had somehow trespassed on her territory with false intentions. He said, “Coffee. Coffee would be good.”
She seemed very relieved to have something to occupy her hands and immediately bustled about making coffee. He sat at the kitchen table and asked, “How long have you been with Evangeline?”
“Going on three years now.”
“Did she tell you we’re engaged?”
The efficient hands paused for a moment and then carried on. “Yes. She did.”
She made him coffee and he tried to convince her to have a cup with him but she steadfastly refused.
He glanced around and compared this place to his much smaller townhouse in Manhattan. “This is a lot of house for one person.”
The housekeeper nodded. “Will be much better when there are children.”
He was startled. Children? What did Juanita mean? Was she merely, in the Latin way, assuming marriage meant children? He wanted to follow up, but at that moment Gabby appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking absolutely ravishing. She’d combed her hair, done something with her lips and eyes, and wore loose silk trousers and a matching jacket in ivory silk. Her engagement ring flashed, as did the diamonds at her ears
“I see you’re making friends with Juanita.”
And not getting very far.
“Come on into the living room and we’ll rehearse for the interview.”
His eyebrows rose. “We have to rehearse?”
