"Recently?" I think of Dan, god forbid. "No, there's no one. Does it have to be a romantic thing?"
"Normally, I'd say no.” She tents her fingers, looking pensive. "But in this case, with the cards here, I'm feeling a romantic vibe."
"This has nothing to do with what I asked about."
Isabelle shrugs like she's not concerned. "Sometimes you ask a question, but the cards have other things they want you to know."
"What does this person look like? Do the cards tell you that?" I stare at the guy on the Three of Cups. He has light brown hair and blue eyes just like Dan.
A phone rings in another room, and she looks up in the direction of the sound. My hands grip into fists and press into my legs. She'd better not answer that call before telling me if this cups guy is Dan.
"No, the person on the card doesn't necessarily resemble the person in your life," she says, not moving to answer the ringing phone. "Even when the cards give me a mental image of someone, I never tell my client. I don't want to influence the future. That's not my job. Now look at the card at the top of the spread."
The card she's talking about depicts a heart being stabbed by three swords. Stabbed. By. Swords. There's no way this is going to be good.
"This card tells me that the person who has come into your life, this soul mate, is going to break your heart." Her eyes flicker to mine then back to the cards. "Sorry."
"I'm not even dating anyone.” My voice sounds wobblier than I'd like. "Are you sure it's a romantic heartbreak?"
Isabelle looks slightly annoyed, like she just explained this and isn't going to do it again, not for thirty bucks. She studies the table as a cat brushes past my ankles. There are pit stains under my armpits now, and there's nothing I want to do more than leave this claustrophobic little room.
"The good news is this card on the right. You've got The Star in your future position." The card she gestures toward shows a naked woman pouring water out of a vessel while a star shines overhead. "This card represents hope. After the heartbreak, love will come again."
Isabelle continues staring at the cards for another moment, then snaps her head up at me.
"Any questions?"
I think about my dad and Renata having to wait thirty years before reuniting and finding true love again.
"What's the timeline on this 'transformation'?"
She reaches down to pet the cat, and he responds by jumping into her lap. That's when I realize it's not a cat.
My eyes widen. "What the hell is that? A guinea pig?"
Isabelle smiles at my confusion and pets the thing that looks like a combination of rabbit and rodent. "It's a chinchilla. The cards don't give me a timeline. Your guess is as good as mine."
I'd like the spirits to be a little more specific, but apparently they don't give names and dates.
"I guess I could avoid all this by not letting myself fall in love."
"Trick fate?" she says in a Southern drawl. "Bless your heart."
Five
I could pretendthat when Isabelle said I'd recently met my soul mate, I didn't think of Seth and Michael. That would be a lie. They're the only two romantic prospects I've encountered recently, and I use the word "prospects" loosely. With Michael there's no romantic chemistry. He's sweet, handsome and would make a lovely friend, but I'm sure he'd agree that there's nothing happening down under when we interact. With Seth there's heat—he has got to feel it, too—but there's also a strong desire to strangle him, and not in a Fifty Shades kind of way. Before I call Hugh, I decide not to tell him about my reading with Isabelle. I don't need him trying to figure out what it all means and freaking me out even more about my impending heartbreak.
"Less shopping information, more farm boy description," Hugh says after I tell him about my thrifting finds that morning.
Based on the sound of television chatter in the background and Hugh's occasional crunching, he's lying in bed watching reality shows and eating snacks. Raymond, who only allows people to eat while sitting at the kitchen table, left for a business trip this morning.
"They're not farm boys," I say. "They don't work on the farm."
I try to envision Seth and Michael riding tractors, feeding the chickens, milking the goats. In my mind they're shirtless and sweaty during these activities because I'm sure that is how Hugh would like them to be. Okay, I enjoy imagining them that way, too. Maybe I could put together a calendar while I'm down here: shirtless small-town hotties. It would sell like crazy. I could be one of those entrepreneurs who makes a million dollars off one idea and never has to work for the rest of her life. I'm already franchising in my mind. Small-town hotties, a reality TV show: it'sThe Simple Lifecrossed withDuck Dynasty. Small-town hotties cookbook: how to raise a pet cow then slaughter and eat it.
"Please, don't make me beg," Hugh says. "I want to hear about the ex-Marine. Indulge me. Monogamy is brutal."
I sigh. "Brutal? Please. Dating in New York City is brutal. Do you miss getting ghosted by people, STD testing at Planned Parenthood, having randos message you dick pics—"
