"You found some great stuff," she says, folding each piece as she punches the prices into an adding machine. Apparently the vintage cash register is just for show. "That yellow dress is my favorite, but I haven't been that size since elementary school."
"It's snug, but I love it.” I touch the butter colored material. "I'm probably too pale to wear it, but I don't care."
She dismisses that notion with the wave of a hand. "A little pink blush, and you'll be great. Everyone thinks they can't wear yellow, but it depends on the shade."
I wish I had somewhere to wear the dress. I'll have to ask if the Shriner's Fish Fry is a formal event.
She bags up my purchases and chats with me about New York and what brought me down to North Carolina. It turns out Laverne isn't her real name—the shirt is vintage, of course. Her real name is Catriona McBryde, and she's the store owner.
"Do you know Rita, the tarot card reader?" I keep my voice light because I don't want her to think I'm considering visiting a psychic.
"Of course," Catriona says. "Her name isn't really Rita though. That was her grandmother. Her name is Isabelle. She left the old sign out front when she took over the business. Ever been to a psychic before?"
"No." I smile like I'm not taking any of this too seriously. "I've always thought it would be fun though."
Catriona places both hands on the counter, palms down. My heart starts beating faster in anticipation of what she's going to say.
"I didn't believe in all that stuff until she read my cards last winter. She wanted a beautiful coat I had in the store—a sixties vintage wool from Saks Fifth Avenue—but couldn't afford it. She offered to pay me twenty dollars for it, plus give me a free reading." She pauses like a good storyteller who knows she's got her audience on the hook. "I agreed because the coat looked amazing on her, honestly. She predicted that an old lover would come back to town and ask me for money, and I thought she was full of crap. Then, a month later, out of the blue, my ex shows up here asking if I can loan him a couple grand so he can buy a food truck! I hadn't seen him for about three years before that. Freaky, right?"
"That is pretty weird," I admit.
I turn and look out the window to see that the ambulance is pulling back into the EMS station. I didn't even hear it leave. Could I have been oblivious to the sound of its siren? I've been in the store for at least an hour. The paramedics could have gone on a call and returned already. Or maybe they went out to lunch.
"I think you should go for a reading," Catriona says, pulling me out of my reverie. "You've got something on your mind, I can tell."
Distracted, I look at her blankly for a moment.
"Oh, yeah, kind of," I say. "Maybe I'll go see her."
A sturdy-looking woman gets out of the driver's side of the ambulance, and someone with dark hair exits the passenger side of the vehicle, but it's hard to see details from where I'm standing. There's a styrofoam take-out cup in the woman's hand and my junior sleuthing skills tell me I was right that they were at lunch.
"She might not seem like the person spirits would talk through," Catriona says, still talking about Isabelle, "but I can tell you one thing, she's accurate."
I pull my attention away from what's happening outside the window. "You don't think she made a lucky guess?"
"No way. She got too many details right. But let me know what happens if you go see her. And enjoy that yellow dress!"
"Thanks." I wave and head toward the door. Instead of opening it, I pause and look through the glass.
"Hey." I look back at Catriona who is folding a silk scarf on the countertop. "Do you know if a guy named Seth works at the EMS station?"
She arches an eyebrow at me in a knowing way. "Hmmm, describe him."
It pains me to be accurate about Seth's looks. "Really tall, broad shouldered, pretty dark hair and eyes. He has a tan dog..."
Catriona laughs. "Yes, he works there. I've known Seth most of my life, and it seems like since he got back from the military, women in this town are thirsty for that boy. I've tried to think of some non-life-threatening emergency that would require me to call a paramedic, but haven't come up with anything yet."
We both laugh, and I want to tell her that he's kind of a dick, but I don't. Let Catriona enjoy the fantasy. Besides, maybe Seth saves his nastiness for me and charms the panties off of everyone else. I study her appearance more closely and see that she's a couple inches taller than me and has the body of a fifties pin-up girl: ample bosom, curvy bottom, shapely legs. She and Seth would make a striking couple. A hot bolt of possessiveness jolts through me, and I douse it immediately. Seth isn't mine, nor will he ever be, and I don't give a crap who he dates.
"How do you know him?" she asks.
"He's a family friend," I say nonchalantly, trying to give her an honest answer that doesn't require a lot of explanation. "I'd like to avoid running into him so if you see me skulking out of here like a criminal..."
I glance out the window again like the chicken shit that I am.
Catriona props an elbow on the counter and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. "Did you two do the chitty chitty bang bang, and now it's totally awkward? Because I'm in that situation with one of the tellers at my bank, and now I can’t even go in there to cash a check.”
"No!" I yelp the word at such a high decibel that I expect dogs to start barking. "Nothing like that."
