Crazy Little Thing (11 page)

“Dody, I don’t need a psychic. I need an accountant.”

“Oh, pish-posh. All they do is account. But Margaret can light the pathway to your higher purpose.”

I wasn’t certain I had a higher purpose. I couldn’t even get through the self-actualization exercises in my
Oprah
magazine.

“Do you really believe in that stuff?” I asked.

“I believe in whatever helps a person clear away their negative energy and focus on the positive. And you, young lady, are chock-full of negative energy. Margaret can give you just the push you need. She’s expecting us in an hour.”

“What about the kids?”

“We can drop them off at Anita Parker’s. I’ve already asked her.”

I was not on board with this. I didn’t need some kooky Gypsy making up a bunch of crap about me taking a long journey or meeting a tall, dark stranger. Or worse yet, she’d be a
real
psychic who told me my future held nothing but heartache and loneliness. I already knew that. I’d get better advice from a bartender, along with a gin and tonic. But Dody had made up her mind, and that meant I was going.

An hour later I settled into a folding chair at Madame Margaret’s Boutique. Mystic baubles and Wiccan whatnots adorned dusty glass shelves. The scent of lavender and kitty litter wafted faintly through the air, and clinky, plinky Eastern music played softly. What the hell was I doing here?

A short, pudgy woman with silver bobbed hair and red-framed bifocals entered the room. She had on a pink running suit. I was surprised and frankly a little disappointed when she sat down across from me. This was the psychic? Where were her veils? And her thick, black eyeliner? Where was the gold hoop earring? This was a rip-off.

She smiled warmly and shook my hand. “Hello, I’m Maggie.”

“Hi,” I said stiffly, not wanting to give anything away. If she was so psychic, she should guess my name.

“And you are Sadie,” she said.

“Yes!” I gasped. Wow, she was good!

She chuckled at my reaction, tapping a piece of paper on the table between us. “Your name is here on my schedule.”

“Oh, yeah.” I shifted in my chair.

She handed me a deck of ornately decorated cards. “Shuffle these, please. I’m not sure we’ll need them, but it will make you less nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” I said, too quickly. Should I be nervous just because she was about to tell me my future looked bleak and devoid of joy?

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly.

This was ridiculous.

Then she opened her eyes and took the cards from me, flipping a few over in a deliberate pattern. They had crazy pictures: a tower getting struck by lightning, a couple of toga-clad women holding up golden chalices, a hermit with a lantern. And a black-cloaked dude riding a horse. That card had the word
death
printed right on it! That could not be good.

She stared at the cards for a silent minute and my skin began to itch. Were they so full of doom she’d didn’t know what to say? But when she spoke, her voice was very calm.

“You are unbalanced.”

Unbalanced as in crazy?

She pointed to the first card. “This is the Tower card. It represents long-held beliefs and ideas being challenged. All aspects of your life are currently in flux and you must be open to change. Certain troubles will end only after you get rid of something or someone, either physically or emotionally. Have you recently ended a relationship? Or are you thinking of ending it?”

Dody must have told her about my divorce. I nodded once, still not wanting to reveal too much.

Madame Margaret nodded back. “It was the right decision. He was flash and little substance. But there is more work to be done with him before you get to a better place. The Hermit card speaks of inner wisdom. You have it, you just don’t trust it. You must adjust your attention from your everyday life and look inward. That is where your problems begin and where they will be solved.”

Oh, I don’t think so. My problems started and ended with Richard
.

“Ah, and the Six of Cups,” she went on, pointing to another card. “Very significant in this position. It connects one’s past with one’s future. It makes sense these two would be together in your present circumstances. You may suddenly find yourself thinking about past experiences, maybe even yearning for the beauty of an old relationship.”

Wow, not a chance of that happening
.

“This is also a period of emotional renewal. You will finally break free and come into your own with a deeper appreciation of your journey.”

So far this seemed like standard issue fortune-telling to me. Pretty ambiguous stuff, especially since Dody had obviously prompted her.

She pointed to another card. “This is the Ace of Pentacles. It promotes good health. And the Star next to it is the card of inspiration, insight, and hope. Contact with someone who will change your life dramatically. A new relationship, perhaps.”

Oh, yeah. That had Dody-speak all over it. I was being set up
.

“I’m not anticipating a new relationship,” I said. I needed to nip this right in the bud.

She smiled benignly. “One rarely anticipates this kind of thing. But that’s the beauty of tarot. Now you know to watch for it.”

I wanted to argue but could see there’d be no point. She seemed like a nice enough little lady, this wacky sidekick of Dody’s. I guess I could let her spin her tale.

“The Three of Cups here tells me you are entering a period of fun.”

Thus the cups, no doubt. They must be full of vodka
.

“Over here we have the Knight of Swords and the King of Swords. These may be men in your life, both past and present. Both have charm and wit and eloquence, but one hurls himself at you like the wind and is gone just as quickly. He is easily bored.”

Hmm, that could sure be Richard
.

“But the other represents someone in a position of trust and responsibility, a professional advisor. A lawyer or a doctor.”

Oh my God. Seriously? Did Dody write a script for this woman?

Margaret frowned and stared at the next card. “This Wheel of Fortune suggests your luck is changing. A new phase is beginning, but destiny and fate will allow you very little control over coming events. And you crave control at all costs. But, dear, the best thing you can do for yourself right now is go with the flow. And trust those who care about you. Many choices confront you, but only one is right. You cannot do everything on your own.”

Yes I could. I’d been doing it alone for ages. Richard was no more help than a husband-sized cardboard cutout.

Then she smiled. “But it will all work out for the best. See the Two of Cups here? That is a new love affair. This next man is a much better match for you. But love has a price. This new relationship won’t come without sacrifice.”

Didn’t they all come with sacrifice?

Wait.

What?

Did she say love? No thanks. I’d sacrificed enough for Richard. I was tapped out.

Then she sat back in the chair and regarded me for a minute. “We can’t control events in our life, Sadie. Sometimes we can’t even control our reactions. But the harder we fight against the waves, the more exhausted we become. Control is an illusion, you know.”

No, love is the illusion
.

She flipped over a few more cards and smiled again. “Excellent. The Four of Cups.
You
do not let possessions own you. Yes, go with that. Don’t be afraid to tap into your natural strengths. You have much more than you realize. You’ll find the balance you need as soon as you let go of how you think things should be and accept them as they are. Watch for the big wave. It’ll push you in the direction of joy. You will be happy, Sadie. It’s all over these cards.”

Of course she’d say that. I’d hardly fork over a 20 percent tip for a vision of mayhem. She went on for another fifteen minutes or so, telling me to trust my instincts and let go of the past. Good advice, sure, but most of the stuff she said could have come straight from Dody’s mouth.

See, I should have spent that money on gin and tonic. At least then I’d have a nice buzz.

“You deliberately avoided telling me Fontaine was living at Dody’s, Sadie! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Richard’s voice was raspy with anger.

He and I were standing in the parking lot of The Waffle Castle where I’d gone to pick up Paige and Jordan after their most recent visit. The kids were currently sitting in my car, watching us rant and rave, just like old times.

“Keep your voice down! And I didn’t mention it because I don’t see why it matters, Richard. So what if Fontaine is staying there?”

“So what? So I don’t want my son exposed to God knows what kind of shit Fontaine has going on. Is he bringing guys over there?”

He stuck his finger in my face, and I wanted to bite it off and spit it out.

“No, he isn’t. But honestly, you’re such a homophobic asshole. You don’t care if Jasper is swinging from chandeliers with hookers. You’re only worried my cousin will turn your son gay.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me farther from the car. “Keep your voice down. And damn it, Sadie, that’s not fair. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

A couple walked by. The woman’s step faltered as she saw us, but the man hustled her past.

“Look,” Richard hissed once they were out of sight, “I don’t have time to discuss this. I’m late for work. But you need to deal with this, Sadie. I’m not having either of my kids in that kind of environment. So get your fag cousin out of there or scoot your ass back to Glenville. You’ve got a five-bedroom house sitting empty while you’re playing your stupid little summer camp at Dody’s. Enough is enough. I want my kids back where I can see them more often.”

My temples pounded. I could hardly breathe, and I wanted to punch him in the groin. Or at least think of something vile to say that would hurt him as much. But I was too slow.

Richard jumped into his car without another glance at Paige and Jordan and sped away.

Shaking like I’d touched a live wire, I climbed into my SUV.

“Mommy, why was Daddy yelling?” Paige asked.

I took a breath. “He’s just frustrated about a work thing, baby. He’ll be fine.”

Just as so many times before, I lied to them about their father. I was not going to be the one to turn them against him. When they were older, they could decide for themselves what type of man he was. Until then, I would protect them.

Back in Bell Harbor that afternoon, I was still shaken by the argument. I didn’t want to leave Bell Harbor. Not yet. And I wasn’t going to ask Fontaine to leave either. I had no intention of even telling him what Richard said. But I was going to have to do something.

I took the kids and dogs down to the beach. Maybe a little sunshine would clear away the storm clouds in my head. Dody had passed on my invitation to join us, already committed to a belly-dancing class with Anita Parker.

I dumped a basket of plastic toys onto the sand to occupy Jordan. Paige had her dolls, and for me, a chair, a wine cooler, and a trashy novel. Sunshine, alcohol, and a little pulp fiction. That was a vacation.

Lazyboy barked, tearing around like a mongoose was on his tail, and eventually settled down beside me for a snooze. Fatso sniffed around in the sand, looking for half-buried junk food left behind by other beachgoers.

After a few minutes, I heard a sharp, short whistle. The dogs were instantly at attention, running toward the sound.

It was Des, jogging down the beach. The ubiquitous jolt that occurred every time I saw him buzzed through all my joints, and I once again reminded myself to get over it. Yes, I was attracted to him, much more than I dared admit, but it was pure infatuation. The thrill of emotions he stirred were almost cartoonish, all zing and zip and zoinks. It was fun pretending he was the Bionic Man with the Sensitivity Chip Upgrade. But he wasn’t. Not really. He was just a guy, and if I got to know him better, I’d uncover all his lousy flaws. It was fun to flirt and pretend it meant something, but it didn’t.

Des picked up a hunk of driftwood and tossed it, sending the dogs on another wild run, then came and sat next to me.