Chapter 5 #2
I knew that sort-of kiss was a mistake. Admittedly, it hadn’t felt like one at the time. It felt nice. Like Nora and I were finally on the same page after years of being in different books. But look where it has led. “I…uh…kissed her on the cheek.”
“It was on the side of her mouth, dear. There was at least half an inch of overlap.”
I admire her attention to detail.
“Were you watching us through the window?”
“I was,” she says, adjusting her necklace—a cascade of crystals attached together with fine silver mesh.
“I was going outside to look for Nora, but when I saw you come racing around the corner to the rescue, I knew I couldn’t possibly intervene.
I had to see the situation play out for myself.
You handled it remarkably, my boy. Remarkably. I felt no need to involve myself.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding the situation,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat. “Nora’s my…”
Stepsister is a word that still doesn’t make sense for her. Nora doesn’t feel anything like a sister to me, and our parents didn’t start making out aggressively until we were both thirty.
“She’s my stepmother’s daughter. We’re not—”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of telling them yet.” She grabs my arm for another soft squeeze. “Don’t give it another thought. I understand why you’d want to make sure you’re a perfect match before your parents know. We can talk about it anytime. But I already know that your star signs are compatible.”
“All right,” I say, my pulse thundering now. I should tell her it’s a lie, and that Nora and I haven’t had a single nice word to say to each other for years.
But is that what Nora would want?
I haven’t magically gotten any better at interpreting what women want without them telling me, in detail, so I have no idea. I decide to take the middle road and neither confirm nor deny this woman’s mistaken impression. There will be plenty of time to correct her later.
“I can’t talk now. I have to go play. The guys are waiting for me.”
“I’ll walk with you,” she volunteers, and I barely restrain a groan as we head back toward the tasting room.
The noise emanating from it has grown louder, and through it, I hear the twang of a guitar.
They’re losing patience, all right. I’ll bet Mrs. Applebaum-Peebles is going to lead the impatience charge alongside Mick.
I can imagine her thwacking a ruler against her hand, the way she used to in second grade. It was terrifying.
“Before you leave today, I’d like to read your tea leaves,” Dottie says as we cross the honey-colored wood floor. “Will you humor me?”
“How can you read them?” I ask, pausing, my feet glued to the floor even though we’re only two steps from the tasting room door now.
I’ve heard of the concept, but I’ve never met a person who claims they can read tea leaves.
I don’t believe anyone has the ability to forecast the future, of course, although there are simulators that can accurately predict future events from the analysis of past ones.
Maybe that’s what Dottie’s doing. She’s lived a long life, and her knowledge of people is probably thorough.
So perhaps she’s a good guesser, and the images she sees in teacups are molded by what she expects to see.
“I have a talent for it. Just like you have a talent for the bass guitar. I’ve heard about your robot too. Your father talks about you all the time.”
I smile stoically at her. “I’ll come by and see you before I leave.”
Now that I’ve said it, I’ll have to do it. I’m not a person who knowingly breaks promises.
“Oh, I can’t wait,” she says, beaming at me again.
I can’t say the same, so I settle for telling her, “Thank you for being my dad’s friend.”
I don’t add that I was worried about him before he reconnected with Nora’s mom.
I’d hate for anyone to talk about me like that, and I can only assume he’d feel the same way.
But I was worried. He’d slipped into a spiral of depression with no end in sight.
I’d come over to bring him lunch one day and found him still dressed in his button-up pajamas.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with wearing pajamas past morning, but there is something very wrong with Eugene Peebles doing it.
He’s always made a point of getting dressed promptly at six a.m., so I knew he was in trouble.
I was the one who’d talked him into interviewing for open jobs just in case. That had put him on a collision course with Hannah, who had directed him back toward Mrs. Applebaum.
Had I expected it would end like this?
With wedding bells, Garbage Fire, Nora Leigh as my secret fake girlfriend, and a little old woman offering to tell my fortune?
Assuredly not.
If I had known, maybe I wouldn’t have done it. Maybe the fear of finding myself with so many eyes on me would have been enough to stop me. So I’m glad I didn’t know.
I don’t say any of that to Dottie, but there’s a knowing gleam in her periwinkle eyes. Maybe her years have also taught her the ability to see beyond what is said to what is meant.
That, I’m afraid, is a talent I’ll never have.
Dottie raises a finger to the corner of her mouth and taps it. She opens her mouth to speak, and I ready myself to hear something of great profundity.
“Dear,” she says, “you have a little something here.”