She flashed a brilliant, grateful smile, which made me feel unworthy. In truth, she had been the one to save my bacon, and she earned my gratitude every day with her warm hospitality.
Lorenzo nodded and patted her hand. “If you were able to accept that change, you will be able to move on to what’s ahead.” He tapped the second card, the Wheel of Fortune. “The card in your present position is saying that the things you set in motion are bearing fruit. And your future card is the Four of Wands, indicating the successful completion of some projects.”
“Fascinating,” said Miss Gloria. “I guess I’d better get busy thinking some up. You next, Hayley.”
But I was stuck on Miss Gloria’s Death card. She’d become part of my family. If something happened to her, I couldn’t bear it. I shuffled the deck, and again Lorenzo dealt out three cards—the Judgment card, an angel blowing a horn above three nude figures; the Magician; and the Eight of Swords, showing a woman blindfolded and tied up, with eight swords stabbed into the earth around her.
Lorenzo began with the last one. “Hayley, you must look within yourself for answers—were you really as bound up by authority as you seem to feel? Are you waiting for someone else to rescue you? You have choices, even though you may need to let go of feelings to which you are attached.”
Surely he was referring to how I was handling detective Nate Bransford, but I preferred not to hash that over. Not right now.
“The Magician tells us to watch what we bring into our lives as well as what we give to others. Walk your talk, Hayley,” he said. Then he tapped the Judgment card with his forefinger. “Let go of the past and accept things as they are. There is no one to blame—not even you.” He grinned. “Let me know how it goes?”
I took a great big breath—having my cards read stirred up such a weird combination of anxiety and relief. “I’ll keep you posted,” I said, pushing the cards across the table to him and getting to my feet. “We’re so glad you could come today.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” Lorenzo put his cards away, and then stood and hugged Miss Gloria. I followed him out to the deck and walked with him to the end of the dock. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me right in the eyes. “You may need to let go,” he said. Then he mounted his scooter and drove away.
Let go of what, exactly? I watched him disappear over the hill toward Old Town, then trudged back to the boat. Several slips up the finger, I saw my former roommate from college, Connie, who lived a few boats up the dock. She’d taken me in after the debacle with Chad last fall, but my subsequent move down to Miss Gloria’s place had taken the pressure off our friendship. Her place was simply too small for two women, one boyfriend who visited frequently and would soon be a husband, and one spoiled cat. I hurried down the dock to ask my mother’s questions about the fast-approaching wedding.
Connie looked like she’d just gotten out of the shower, her short hair sticking up randomly like a well-used patch of catnip. My mother had been lobbying for her to grow it out for her wedding to better display a handmade headpiece and veil or even a ring of flowers—something “girly.” But right now it was in that awkward in-between stage.
“Here comes the bride!” I warbled. “I have strict instructions from Mom to pin you down about some details.” Connie made a face, as though she’d eaten something sour.
“What’s the matter?”
She pressed her fists to her cheeks and blew out an exasperated puff of air. “Does Ray seem like a normal guy to you?”
I nodded. “Sure. Normal for an artist, creative normal.” I smiled but she didn’t. “I think you’ve made an excellent choice—he’ll be a great husband. He adores you.”
“He’s gotten it into his head that if we’re getting married on the beach, it should be a pirate wedding.”
“A pirate wedding?”
“The wedding party would be dressed in costume and we’d ask the guests to come dressed as deckhands. And then say our vows in pirate-ese.”
I would have burst out laughing if she hadn’t looked so near to tears.
“Would you mind going by this shop sometime in the next few days and snapping some pictures of the costumes? I’m up to my neck in cleaning jobs—and they don’t have evening hours. I’m thinking if he could only see how silly we’d look, he’d drop this.” She handed me a flyer with colorful pictures of full-breasted wenches in white lace corsets and their pirate grooms wearing feathered hats and eye patches. “They refer to getting married as swallowing the anchor. If that’s how he really feels about it…” Tears shimmered the length of her eyelashes like crystals of sugar.