“I see a man, no, two men, surrounding you. Both have vhite hair. Both are loving you. One is larger than the other.”
Angus and Joe?
“Here is another man—a dark and dangerous man.” She paused, frowning as she stared into the ball.
I drew in a breath. That must mean Serrano.
“He lives his life in the shadows. But this is the one you really vant. Yes?”
My heart started tripping. It was true that I was attracted to the good-looking, tormented detective, but I was a happily married woman.
Wasn’t I?
“And a fourth!” She eyed me speculatively and then peered closer into the globe. “This man has long hair. Looks a bit like . . . Mick Jagger . . . ?”
I jerked my head up in time to see the twinkle in her eye before she burst into uproarious laughter.
“I’m just joshing with ya.” The semi-Russian accent was gone, replaced by a South Philly dialect broader than Tony Z’s. “I know who you are, and I heard about your troubles with that dirtbag landlord of yours. Figured it wouldn’t be too long ’til you stopped in.”
She held out a hand with its purple talons. “How’re ya doin’? I’m Ronnie. My last name is Polish, and no one can pronounce it, so I just go by Ronnie. Or Madame Ronnie, if you wanna be formal-like.”
“Jeez, you had me going there for a minute, Ronnie.” I grinned as I took her hand. “So you can’t really read minds, or see the future, then?”
She shrugged a plump shoulder. “I dunno. Sometimes I do get a feeling, sort of, but a lot of it is intuition and good old life experience. When you grow up on the streets, you learn to size up people and situations real fast.”
I nodded. It was as I’d always thought. These psychics were just clever students of human behavior.
“But seriously, what is it that you want?” she asked.
I stared into her eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black. I felt myself being sucked into their enigmatic depths.
“To stay in Millbury.”
“At any price?”
I nodded slowly. In that moment, I decided I’d do whatever I could to get Chip to agree to let me sign a new lease, but only for a year. If I was very careful, I could make it, even at the ridiculous rate he was asking.
I’d ride my bike more, drink cheaper wine, curtail Joe’s spending. It would buy me some time, in case someone else moved out and I could take his or her spot on Main Street. Or if nothing else, a year to adjust to the idea of moving to a different town.
Even if Chip went ahead with his bistro plans, he’d need time to get the zoning approval and apply for a liquor permit, and he would probably welcome another twelve months worth of significant rental income.
It was as if I could suddenly breathe again. Making a firm decision on what to do instead of all this uncertainty constantly buzzing around in my head felt like an elephant had stepped off my chest.
I pulled out my wallet. “Thanks, Ronnie. This is the best ten bucks I ever spent.”
She nodded and tucked the bill into her bra. “Who knows how long I can make it here anyway.”
Now she really was reading my mind.
“There’s plenty of people would like to see me fail. Brings down the standard of the neighborhood, they say.”
“I’m sorry. People can be so mean and thoughtless.”