“So tell him.”
“Tell him what, exactly?”
Food wrappers crinkled from Margot’s end. “That you want him, but you don’t understand his mixed messages.”
Ah, but such blatant honesty set her up for rejection, just like—Holy cats!Until this moment, she hadn’t thought of Caleb in… how long? Not since the night of Zora’s accident, at least.
Enough childish petulance. Time to woman up and confront the beast.
“Margot, you have a knack for unpeeling the truth. I’ll call him tonight. Thanks.” She smooched her phone. “Miss you muy mucho much.”
“Miss you too, love. See you at the expo.”
“Can’t wait.” She pocketed her phone and sighed. Unlike most of her ex-friends in Eugene whom she’d met through Caleb, Margot remained a steadfast, if long-distance ally. She missed their lingering visits over coffee, their nights of cruising art galleries and bars, their sushi orgies with Olivia and Sierra. The urge to hop into her Jeep and drive south for a quick visit tugged hard on her gut.
No time for that, alas. Not with her responsibilities here. Visiting friends would have to wait until Zora recovered.
The doorway bell tinkled as her four o’clock divination appointment bustled through.
Janice, owner of a Main Street art gallery, was one of Zora’s tarot regulars. Gemma’s skills with the cards couldn’t match her aunt’s, so she offered palmistry as an alternative, and a surprising number of customers signed up.
Good thing Nabila Abadi, wife of Mo and co-owner of Ali Baba’s Kebabs, volunteered to take a turn at the till today. She greeted Janice, then hollered for Gemma in her foghorn voice.
Gemma pocketed her phone and hurried to the counter. “Thanks again, Nabila. Don’t know why we’re so busy this afternoon, but I’m grateful for the customers, and for your help.”
Nabila tossed her thick salt and pepper hair. “No need to thank me, darling. We miss Zora and Marquetta at our poker group. Besides, Mo can handle the restaurant for an afternoon, and I needed a change of scene. Too much of the same old same old can drive a woman coo-coo. Am I right?” She plucked a pair of beaded earrings from the jewelry case and held them to her cheek, vamping in front of the countertop mirror.
Gemma led Janice behind the wooden screen and poured her a mug of fragrant herbal tea. Not long ago, she’d have agreed with Nabila about the coo-coo bit. How much longer would this new routine amuse her before her feet got itchy again? If not for Zora’s illness, she would’ve stayed for the expo, then—what? For the first time in as long as she could remember, no exciting alternative leapt to mind, and that worried her. Had she lost her mojo, her limitless supply of possibilities? Was she becoming, Goddess forbid, rooted?
Probably just sexual frustration dragging her down.
The bell tinkled again, jerking Gemma’s gaze toward the entrance. Sure enough, Jesse was here for his late afternoon visit to check the books. He deposited a tray of green plants on the counter and chatted with Nabila, his rumbling laughter making it damn hard to concentrate on Janice’s palms.
Janice sipped her tea. “Thanks for fitting me in, doll. I’ve got a big decision to make.”
Gemma started in on the hand massage that always preceded a reading. For pale-skinned people like Janice, it flushed the palm’s lines, making them more visible, and it relaxed the customers too. Much cheaper than therapy.
“You know,” she told Janice, “Palmistry is more about understanding yourself than guiding your decisions.”
Janice flapped her free hand. “That’s fine, hon. Maybe trying something new will give me clarity. I mean, Floyd is a sweetheart, and he’s good in bed—great, actually—but art is my passion, and he just doesn’t get it. I can’t help wondering if I’m wasting my time with him.”
“Mmm hmm. That’s a toughie.” Gemma rubbed circles on Janice’s palm while sneaking glances at Jesse. He’d shed his coat, and as he stood on tiptoe to reach a case of earrings from a high shelf, his shirt rode up. The flex of his lower-back muscles sent her pulse into overdrive.
Flushing hot, she yanked her focus to the older woman’s hand. “Your heart line is all over the place, frankly. But your head line is strong and straight. Perhaps you’re not the settling down type. You might consider—"
Janice gasped. “Oh my God, there he is.”
“Who?”
Janice peered around the screen. “Floyd. He’s looking through the window. He’s never mentioned this shop. What’s he doing here? Is it a sign?”
Gemma shrugged. “It could be.”
Grinning, Janice dropped a twenty on the table. “Thanks, doll. You’ve been a big help.” She straightened her velvet tunic and quick-stepped toward her boyfriend. By the time Gemma cleaned up the tea mug, she found the older couple holding hands, huddled over the incense display.
Gemma chuckled. Seems Janice had already made up her mind about Floyd. She simply needed a nudge.
Jesse caught her eye, hooked his thumbs into his pockets, and strolled toward her with a smoldering smile on his too-damn-handsome face. Unfair of him to look so delectable here in the shop where she couldn’t touch him—at least not the way she wanted to.
