I didn't even hesitate. Janice did this for all of us from time to time, whether it was reading tea leaves, throwing bones, or reading palms. She had experience with divination, and we all had fun with her readings, whether they were accurate or not. If anything, they usually gave us a much-needed pick-me-up. I straightened, placing the backs of my hands in her palms, and let her bend down to examine the deeply etched lines.
The physical contact trilled through me with a happy melody. The way I yearned for touch was almost embarrassing, but Icraved it like flora reaching for sunlight. I didn't care what form it took, whether it was Janice reading my palms, Ruth letting me squeeze her, or a lover exploring my body. Ineededit in whatever form I could scrounge up. And yet, I rarely got it.
Janice hummed in thought. "How old are you, Gemma?"
"Twenty-five. I'll be twenty-six in November."
Janice pointed to my right hand where a line cut across the middle of my palm. "It is your head line that would show us how you feel about decisions and a surety of thought. It does have quite a few striations here." She cocked her head, looking at my left palm, and then my right. "The left palm shows what was or where you began, and the right gives a better picture of where you are now and where you are going. I do see some confusion in your head line."
"Imagine that," I muttered with a slight smile.
Janice studied my palms for a while, silent as she did so. I was dying to know what she saw, but she simply looked up, smiled with her eyes, and folded her hands over mine. "I have a client for you to see."
I blinked in confusion. "Um, okay." What did this have to do with work?
"Everything is going along just fine for you, my dear. I was due to see this client now, but I'll send her in for you instead." Janice let go of my hands and walked unhurriedly to the door. "Is that alright with you?"
"Sure," I said with a hefty serving of amusement in my tone. "Whatever you need."
"I'll send her in."
Whatever Janice had seen on my palms clearly indicated I needed to keep working. Sighing deeply, I took a seat at my desk and organized the already tidy surface. Honestly, that figured. The only thing I had going for me right now was my competenceat my job. Maybe I did need to lean into that and stop worrying about stupid things like relationships.
When the client came into my office, I almost let my surprise show on my features. She had to be almost sixty, and with her designer silk blouse and smooth, black pencil skirt paired with a string of pearls and matching earrings—not to mention the enormous diamond ring on her left hand—she looked like a wealthy wife if I'd ever seen one. That was probably making unfair assumptions, so I tucked that away and stood with a welcoming smile and a hand outstretched. "Hey there, I'm Gemma Daise, one of the matchmakers here. How can I help you?"
The woman glanced at my hand with a faint look of distaste before she shook it limply. "Silvia Rook."
I almost fell over sideways. How many people could have that last name? "Rook?"
"Yes, I'm sure you've seen my son, Knox. He owns the practice on the second floor."
Well, I'll be damned, I thought with a trill of glee. Rook'smomwas here looking for a date. How could I use this against him? That was uncharitable, but I didn't care. The bastard could use some humility. "Yes, I've… seen him. How can I help you, Silvia? What are you looking for in a relationship? Have you already filled out our intake paperwork?"
"Oh, not me," Silvia said, holding up her hands. "Heavens, no. I want you to find a match for Knox."
My brain went copy paper blank. "Uhm. What?"
"My son," she said slowly, her eyes a perfect match for Dr. Rook's with their light, startling blue color. She looked good for her age, though, and it wasn't because of any cosmetic or surgical procedures, I didn't think. She had the softness of age in the corners of her eyes and along her thin neck, but she looked healthy. And beautiful. I couldn't deny that Rook's good lookshad definitely been due in part to the elegance of his mother. "He refuses to find himself a match, so I'd like to give him a healthy push in the right direction."
I found myself at a loss. Janice usually handled the marriage-hungry parents. Why had she sent Silvia to me? Ordinarily, in this case, Janice would read tarot cards for them, or go over astrological matches for the parents to look for. We'd give them a direction to follow on their own, but we never made matches for people without their consent. I tapped my lips, thinking. Finally, I said, "Mrs. Rook, I appreciate your feelings, but I really… can't. If Knox hasn't directly asked me himself, then I can't find a match for him."
Silvia gave me a discerning eye squint. "You said you know my son?"
"We've been acquainted, yes," I admitted. "And I'm pretty sure I know him well enough to tell you that he wouldn't sit idly by while I stomped all over his right to privacy by making a profile and finding him a match he doesn't want."
Her gaze sharpened like a deadly icicle. "You know him rather well, then."
Oh boy. "Only in passing. If you want to speak to Janice again, I'm sure she could—"
Silvia plunked herself down on the dark gray, padded chair on the other side of my desk. "What do you need, Ms. Daise? What can I offer you to use your expertise on this matter? If you know my son already, then we are well on our way. Money? Vehicles you desire?"
"Mrs. Rook," I sighed, sitting as well. "I can't accept—"
"A house?"
I faltered. The word raked across my worried psyche with sharpened teeth. Silvia homed in on my reaction, her gaze shrewd. I regained my mental footing and finished with a firm, "I can't accept any additional compensation to unethically matchyour son without his consent. I appreciate your concerns, I do, but that isn't how we operate."
"The housing market is lamentably difficult." Silvia crossed one stocking-clad leg over the other. "It's rather difficult to find a decent place to live."
