“Let’s get a brochure.” They walked up to the area where the fair began. A huge tent had been set up in a park in the center of town. A woman at the entrance gave them a brochure. Paul and Hayley stepped to the side, then she read the description out loud. “A Psychic Fair is a live, all-day event. It’s an organized gathering of diviners—hmm, I like that word—of all kinds of professionals, not only psychics, who have rented tables and offer readings, and sometimes healing rituals for attendees.”
“Sounds like fun.” He smiled at her. “I thought we’d see what they do, and maybe get our futures told.”
“Mr. Covington. I never pegged you as interested or as liking woo woo stuff.”
He lifted his chin. “I have a lot of different aspects to my personality.”
“So, I’m finding out.”
“All right, the truth is I went to a fair like this with a girl when I was in high school and she was into Tarot Cards and Fortune Readings.”
“Do you believe in all that?”
“I didn’t, until the Tarot lady warned Mary, my girl, that something bad could befall her soon and to be careful.”
Hayley chuckled. “Did anything happen?
“You’ll be ashamed for laughing. Mary was head cheerleader and at the next basketball game, she was on the top of one of those pyramid things they do. She fell and broke her leg.”
“Wow! I’m not sure I want to go in, then.”
“I do.” He kissed her cheek. “Besides, it’s nice being outside and in public with you.”
“Yeah, I feel that way, too.”
A twenty-five-dollar fee to get in, and twenty dollars for each of the participants, turned out to be a hefty sum. They chose to have their auras read first.
“Greetings. My name is Natasha.” The woman was dressed in colorful garb, gauzy and layered. She wore a turban of sorts on her head with dark black hair peeking out. “First, we have special aura cameras that snap an instant photo of you with your aura. Who would like to go first?”
“I’ll go.” Paul stepped into a camera box, which resembled the little photo booths people used in the days before cell phone cameras. After his picture snapped, it came out onto a silver tray in the side. Natasha picked up the tray and brought the whole thing back to the table where Hayley waited and Paul sat down.
The reader picked up the photo as if handling an ancient scroll and slid it in front of Paul. “Take a look, then I’ll read it for you.”
Paul did. His aura was bright red, a bit foggy, and extending about 18 inches from his body. Natasha said, “This aura is exceptionally large, and at the moment the photo was taken, signified a huge amount of energy. The aura indicates you are a very competitive person. And a passionate man with high sexual appetites.”
Hayley coughed to cover her reaction.
“Why is it cloudy?” Paul asked.
“If you're upset and angry over a recent situation, then this can show up in your aura as a clouded dark red. If you harbor negative thoughts, that kind of thinking will color your aura, too.” She peered over at him. “Are you having negative thoughts, sir?”
“Nah.” He pulled Hayley close. “Not with her next to me.”
“My turn,” Hayley said popping up and entering the booth. She came out shortly, Natasha went through the same process with the photo and both reseated themselves.
“My dear,” the woman said, her eyes wide. “Most people have one or two colors in their aura, but yours is a rainbow. Very rare, reserved for those who are very special.”
Paul winked at her. “We’ve known that all along.”
“Hush,” she said.
“People with these auras are outgoing and confident, strong willed and intuitive, optimistic and content.” She studied the image further. “They’re also healers.”
Paul said, “That’s all good, right?”
“Yes, you’re a special person, Miss. We give one caveat to those with rainbow auras. Healers are often easily hurt by those they heal.”
Paul sighed heavily. Christ, everything was working against him. All he wanted was to have a lighthearted day, doing something different.
Hayley must have seen his mood as they left. “Don’t worry Paul. I’m tough. I may be a healer, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know.” The problem was he didn’t want to be the one who hurt her.
* * *
On Monday morning, Paul took an uber to the firm because he didn’t feel like bucking the crowds on the subway. And what if people recognized him? His face and the story of the gala had been plastered online and on television, and his voicemail continued to overflow. When he neared his building, he found the press staked out on the sidewalk and spilling into the street.
Damn it. “If you don’t mind,” he said to the driver. “I’d like to bypass the address I gave you and get out at the end of the block.”
“Sure buddy. Quite a crowd there. I wonder why.”
“Mmm.”
Once on the street, he spied a coffee shop and went inside.
I’ll have latte. No skim.
There she was again. He’d been successful in banishing her from his mind since they parted because he knew she was upset about his secrets. The anchors on TV had gotten her antenna up about his background, and she didn’t sleep well during the night.
He ordered black coffee and sat down.
The time of reckoning was coming about his family. He needed to tell her in case the press found out. She’d be hurt more if she learned about him that way.
But now, he needed to get to work. He phoned the firm.
“Cook, Cramer and Coldwell.”
“Beverly, it’s Paul.”
“Hello, Paul.” Her usually no-nonsense voice was very friendly. “Everyone’s waiting for you to get here.”
“I tried. I drove by the press in front of the building and I knew I’d be mobbed. I’m at a coffee shop on the corner. Can I speak to Mr. Cook, please?”
Soon, the senior partner came on. “Good morning, Paul. Congratulations on your…efforts Saturday
