Gazing at the image, he recalled their conversation yesterday. Miranda had said,
“I’d like to show you around New England.” The idea brightened his gloomy mood, like the sun emerging from behind dark clouds. He picked up the phone and punched in Miranda’s number.
Card 21: The World
The scent of salt water tickled Miranda’s nostrils as she strolled along Salem’s Derby Street, near what was once the busiest harbor in America. Even though the sun shone brightly, autumn’s nip chilled the air. Here and there, smoke rose from chimneys.
After three months on the road, it seemed a bit strange to be home.
Home, however, would never be the same again. Shortly after she’d returned to Salem, a Realtor had contacted her about selling her father’s house. At first, she’d resisted. She’d lived in this house most of her life. But she had to admit the house felt empty without Danny Malone’s presence.
“Don’t you think it’s kinda creepy living there now that Dad’s dead?” her sister asked, wrinkling her nose. “It’s time to let go and move on, Miranda.”
“You just want the money,” Miranda insisted.
“Look who’s talking. You already got a bunch more than me,” Kelly shot back.
Their father had made Miranda the beneficiary of his life insurance policy, but he’d left the house to both daughters. Understandably, Kelly wanted her share.
In the end, it was Eli who tipped the scale. Next month, when he moved to Salem, a new chapter in her life would begin. It made sense to put the past behind her.
Miranda walked by a new age bookstore and noticed a display of crystals in its window.
Inside the store, she smelled incense that reminded her of the jasmine trees in the courtyard of the Garden of Eden. A woman wearing a turban and a purple robe sat at a table, shuffling a deck of cards. Miranda recalled the card reader she’d met in Santa Fe.
“I’d like you to tell my future,” she said to the woman in the turban.
The woman motioned for her to sit and handed Miranda the cards. “Shuffle these.”
When Miranda had finished shuffling, the woman told her to cut the deck. She did, then passed the cards back. The woman placed one face up on the table.
“The Queen of Wands,” she said, pointing at the card, which depicted a woman holding a long rod. “This signifies you. You’re a very creative person.”
Miranda giggled, remembering Lancelot’s description of a wand, and all the “wands” she’d held during the past few months.
The reader laid a second card on the table. “This is your past,” she said. “You’ve completed a long journey.” On the card Miranda saw a picture of a dancing jester.
“This shows the present.” The turbaned woman placed a third card beside the second. It pictured a voluptuous woman wearing a skimpy bikini standing in a lake; a muscular man knelt before her, holding her in a passionate embrace.
Miranda recognized the card: The Lovers. It had appeared in her reading in Santa Fe, too. “Oh my,” she said.
The reader smiled and turned over a fourth card. It showed a woman with long, dark hair standing in front of a glowing globe of the Earth. “This represents your future. ‘The World.’ You’ll have everything you want and need. The world is yours.”
Gazing at the woman on the card, Miranda thought,
“Thank you,” she said.
After paying the card reader, Miranda browsed around the store. She thumbed through several books, perused the jewelry cases, and looked at statues of fairies, angels, gods and goddesses. When she came to a rack that displayed packs of tarot cards, she examined several decks. She considered buying one, but an idea popped into her mind.
Packing up ten years’ worth of his professional life took less time than Eli had imagined. Troy had given him a nice severance package, which Eli thought might have been a bribe to keep him from revealing what he knew about Giselle.
As he plunked his Rolodex into a box, a business card popped out and fluttered to the floor. Eli picked it up and read it.
He recalled meeting Quentin at a wine tasting at San Francisco’s Palace, the evening before Giselle’s brothers first attacked him. Before his old life unraveled. That night seemed a century ago. He’d invited the distributor to visit Meditrina, hoping to expand their sales in New England. But when Quentin stopped by, Eli was already on the run.
He picked up the phone and punched in Quentin’s number.
“Sorry I missed you when you came to see the vineyard,” he said when the distributor answered. “I was out of town all summer.”
They chatted for a couple of minutes, then Eli told him he was moving to the Boston area soon. “Maybe we can meet for lunch.”
“If you’re looking for a job,” Quentin said, “I might have something for you.”
“Great, I’d like to hear about it.”
“Give me a call when you get here.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Tucking Quentin’s card in his wallet, he remembered Sybil’s words:
Leaves crunched underfoot as Miranda and Eli walked down Salem’s historic Chestnut Street. Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century mansions, built by ships’ captains and wealthy China Trade merchants, bordered the wide, tree- lined street. In recent years, many of the huge old homes had been broken up into condos. She and Eli had sublet one from a couple of teachers Miranda knew who were on sabbatical for a year in Italy.
“In the summer, we can go visit them,” she suggested. “We’ll tour the vineyards in Tuscany and Umbria. Maybe you can get Will Quentin to pay your way.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ve always wanted to see Italy.”
She reached for Eli’s hand, and when she squeezed it, his tattoo felt warm against her palm. She’d worried that he might miss his job at Meditrina and his relaxed California lifestyle.
They passed through a wrought-iron gate and entered an imposing brick Federal-style mansion. Inside, they climbed a wide, carved wooden staircase that curved toward the second story, and another, narrower one that led to the third floor. Eli opened the door into their apartment. Sunshine spilled through a half-dozen windows, throwing rectangles of honey-colored light onto the pine floors.
