19
Daphne left to take a call and returned with news. “The restaurant isn’t ready for us quite yet. We have a half hour to kill
before lunch. There are some cute shops nearby, if you’d like to fan out and look around. Up to you.”
The guys took off in the direction of the corner vendor selling soft ice cream and frozen mojitos. Jules, Vicky, and Ayesha
entered Cut Crystals, a shop selling stones, tarot cards, dream catchers, and the like. They were greeted by the scent of
incense wafting in the air. Ayesha went straight to a quartz display and chose a rough-cut piece that look like it had been
dipped in ash.
Vicky approached her. “Aren’t the pink ones more your vibe?”
In her designer logo tank top, tailored shorts, and flip-flops, Vicky was the quintessential New Yorker on vacation. Every
finger had a ring. Every ring had a story. The tote bag that hung from her shoulder was twice the size of her body and probably
held a can of mace. Pink was not her vibe.
“I’ve read smoky quartz is helpful when summoning a spirit.”
“Look at you!” Vicky cried. “First you figure out the language barrier thing, and now crystals! Who are you, and what have
you done with uptight Ayesha?”
Jules put down a deep violet amethyst and considered the smoky quartz instead.
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to react like children?” Ayesha asked.
“No,” Vicky replied.
“Absolutely not,” Jules said.
Ayesha sighed wearily and proceeded to tell them anyway. “Every night since we’ve been here, I’m startled awake at three on
the dot.”
Vicky and Jules drew closer, intrigued.
“At first, I didn’t think anything of it,” Ayesha continued. “I’ve always found it difficult to sleep in hotels. Then it happened
again. I checked the time, only because that’s what people do—3 a.m. Last night, same thing! Only we were out late, and I
was still awake, dozing off, really, when I heard it.”
“What?” Jules asked, her own heart pounding wildly.
“The faintest knock on my door.”
Vicky gasped. “Shut up! I have chills!”
“I swear.” Ayesha’s hand covered the cross at her neck.
“Aurora,” Vicky said. “It makes sense that she’d knock on your door.”
Ayesha made a face. “Does it?”
“Yes,” Vicky said. “Of all of us, you were the least interested or involved. To prove herself, all she had to do was convince
you.”
“You’re implying that she, a ghost, is observing us and making highly complex decisions based on our character, as opposed
to simply drifting down the halls and knocking on doors at random.”
“Nothing is random,” Vicky said, grim.
Jules was inclined to agree with Vicky. Ayesha wasn’t ready to accept it. “I spoke with the property manager. As it turns
out, occupants of my room consistently report hearing things, but unlike me, they love it! Apparently, it was her former sitting
or sewing room.”
“Interesting,” Vicky said. “What was my room? Did you ask?”
“A future nursery.”
“Aw.”
“Mine was the servants’ room,” Jules said, recalling their conversation on that first strange morning.
“Correct.”
Vicky laughed. “She’ll probably never show up there!”
“You two haven’t experienced anything?” Ayesha asked, alarmed. “Nothing strange or suspicious? Please don’t say I’m the only
one.”
“I’m having recurring dreams about my grandmother,” Vicky admitted. “I’ve been reluctant to call them anything else, but they’re
so vivid, it feels more like hallucinations. We’re back at her apartment, sitting at her table with coffee, and she’s agitated.
At first, I thought she was warning me against Matty, but now I’m not sure. It’s more like she’s reminding me of everything
she ever taught me. Like she’s running out of time. I’m going to see her the second we get back.”
Ayesha reached out and squeezed her arm. “I’m so sorry you’re going through that. How about you, Jules?”
Jules’s fingers tightened on the smoky quartz in her hand. “Same as Vicky,” she said. “Except it’s my mother.”
“My God,” Ayesha said. “At least Aurora has the good sense to stay out of my family trauma. I would have rebuked her in the
name of the Lord!”
“The thing is, if she came knocking at three in the morning, I’d have no idea,” Vicky said. “Matty and I stay up talking.
By that time, we’re deep in some philosophical debates.”
“Is that it?” Ayesha asked. “Heated debates?”
“That’s it,” Vicky replied. “And it’s good, I can’t even tell you. He’s so sharp! We’re getting to know each other well. But
of course, we’re making out like teenagers.”
“I would hope so,” Ayesha said. “How about you, Jules? Any progress with Leo at all?”
“Looks like you’re regressing, to be honest,” Vicky said. “What’s going on?”
Jules withered under the spotlight. “Leo is great. No denying it. But I don’t think he likes me as much as he wants to rescue
me. He has a savior complex and can’t help treating me like a damsel in distress.”
“Or maybe he’s protective of you because he cares.”
That was the sort of statement Jules might expect from Ayesha, not Vicky. But there she was, a rose crystal in hand, advocating
on behalf of the lonesome knight.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Vicky is right,” Ayesha said. “What is a damsel in distress if not a perfectly
capable woman in need of some assistance who’s smart enough to accept it when offered?”
“Want to know what I think?” Vicky asked.
In Jules’s experience, nothing ever worth knowing followed that statement. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, too bad!” Vicky retorted. “I think you hate how much you like him.”
“Let’s not pressure her,” Ayesha said. Her tone was fair and balanced, though she was clearly on Vicky’s side. “She’s exercising
discernment and that is admirable, too. Both of you show exceptional growth. I’m proud.”
“You can’t have it both ways,” Jules said, grateful they’d eased up on her. “Either we’re childish and immature or we’re learning
and growing. Which is it?”
“As a mother of two,” Ayesha said, “I assure you both things can be true.”
They each grabbed a chunk of smoky quartz, a gorgeous amethyst as a gift for Daphne, and other pretty stones to take home
as souvenirs. The teenage girl at the register offered a deal on in-depth palm reading. “Twenty dollars. Today only.”
“Discounted from what?” Ayesha asked.
“Twenty-five,” the girl snapped. “I’m worth it.”
“Can you do quick?” Vicky asked. “We don’t have time for anything in depth.”
“I can do quick,” the girl said. “I’m Mallory, by the way.”
“Like the square?” Vicky asked.
“Don’t,” Mallory pleaded. “Who goes first?”
“You two go ahead,” Ayesha said, stepping away from the register with her shopping bag hanging from her wrist. “I’ve gone
as far as I can go.”
Vicky nudged Jules forward with the pushiness of a stage mom. “You go first.”
Jules held out her palms. “I’ve done this before in Brooklyn,” she said. “There’s nothing to see here.”
“Are you talking about that one time with the girl who sells vintage Levi’s?” Vicky asked. “It doesn’t count!”
Mallory swept her gaze over Jules’s outstretched hands. “What did she say about your double simian lines?”
“What about it?” Jules asked. She had no idea what Mallory was talking about.
“It’s striking.”
From the sidelines, Ayesha plugged Jules’s unasked question into a search engine. “It means your heart and your head lines
are merged into one. Basically, you have one less line than the average person.”
“That’s always been the case,” Jules said. “I’m a writer with a one-track mind. I know it.”
“It’s more than that,” Mallory said. “You’re focused, intense, and ambitious. That’s for sure. But there’s like a twister
in your soul. People like you have a spiritual mission, a destiny to fulfill.”
A spiritual mission? A destiny?
Jules balled her hands into fists and drew them to her chest. She felt exposed.
In grad school, their creative writing professors would urge them to pay attention only to critiques that resonated with them on some level or another.
This reading resonated on all levels, heart, mind, and soul—and it left her shaking.
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” Mallory said.
Vicky found her wallet and handed over two twenties. “That was enlightening, Mallory, but we’ll be going. Keep the change.”