Chapter 31
The volume is already overwhelming—there is no way we can receive thirty-seven supplicants anytime soon. I email Gemma in a panic, but all she writes back is, Congrats! So happy for you! I’m sure you’ll figure it out! This is huge!
When I read the article aloud to my father, he laughs nearly all the way through.
“I’m glad you’re amused!” I begin to laugh with him. “But what do we do now?”
“Let them come.”
I appreciate his openness, but I know he can’t grasp the level of interest that is already starting to bubble our way.
I need advice, and while Nina is usually my go-to in that department, I can’t share this specific conundrum with her.
Carl and Paula are my next best option, and they both agree to come by this weekend to help me strategize.
“Just breathe,” says Paula, picking up on my stress as we sit around the dining-room table. I’ve set up the equivalent of a war room, with printouts of the article and the now eighty-nine inquiry emails. Paula and Carl leaf through them.
“Well, this woman has a terminal illness, so you should fit her in quick,” says Paula. “But most of these are from people who are wondering whether to break up with their partners or quit their jobs. You can handle those at your leisure.”
“This is already out of control,” I say. “We can’t take responsibility for all these people’s dilemmas. What if my dad has an off day? What if he loses interest?”
“Well, aren’t the prophecies supposed to be kind of vague and open-ended?” asks Carl. “Doesn’t a good oracle show you what you already know?”
“Well, yes. According to Heraclitus, ‘The oracle neither reveals nor conceals, but gives a sign,’” I say.
“According to Hera-who?” asks Paula.
“He’s an ancient Greek philosopher.”
“Well, there you go!” says Paula. “I mean, it sounds like Arthur doesn’t have to do much. He just makes a little chitchat, which he loves to do. Carl can serve the tea; I can lead the dance ceremony. Then the folks jump in the pond, and we send them on their way. Nothing to it.”
“But what if one of them is a psychopath? I mean, should we be worried about our safety?” I wonder.
“I can help with that,” says Carl. “And you can borrow Cynthia.” His shepherd mix would never hurt anyone, but she does look intimidating if you don’t know her.
“Look,” says Paula, “forward all the inquiries to me. I’ll vet them. I’ll send you the ones who seem serious, and you can invite them at your own pace.”
“But you hate tech.” After all, she had hired me to do her admin. Now she wants to do mine for free?
“I hate tech. But I like email,” clarifies Paula. “And this isn’t admin—it’s an adventure.”
“Okay. If you’re sure,” I say. “Let’s take two people a week and see how it goes. Weekends only. I don’t want to overwhelm the oracle.”
Paula and Carl light up with excitement and a sense of purpose.
“Are you sure you have time to help with this?” I ask them both. “I mean, my dad and I have nothing better to do, but…”
“It’s February in Locust,” says Paula. “None of us have anything better to do.”