When Amethyst drew back her energy, Adriel swayed on her feet.
“Wow.” Not the most angelic of statements, but it was the only word that came to mind.
Julie pressed an over-sized mug of tea into Adriel’s hand. “Ammie can really turn it on when she needs to. How do you feel?”
“Better. Much better.” The spicy, slightly medicinal-tasting brew smoothed out the rest of the rough edges.
“Take these,” Kat pressed two tablets into Adriel’s hand. “You’ll be right as rain in a few minutes.” Eyes sparkling under a dark fringe of bangs, she waited until Adriel downed the pills, then gestured toward the walls. “It’s a good thing you showed up; we need a tie-breaker. We can’t decide between that sage green with yellow and gray accents, or the cream with russet and blue.”
“That one.” Adriel pointed to the more neutral selection. “It works with all the colors and patterns in the room.”
“See, that’s what I said.” Julie pulled the brush from the pot of green and drew a circle around that combination. “Okay, that’s one room down.” She bobbed her head toward the newcomer, “With her here, we might actually get through this and be ready for the painters.”
“When are they coming?” Adriel was curious.
“Tomorrow.” It was a chorus of voices.
“Ah, I see. Nothing like leaving things until the last minute.”
“Snarky,” Amethyst’s husky voice held a laugh. “I approve.”
Now that she was here, where a sense of peace flowed over her, the compulsion Adriel had been feeling faded away. Spending time with these women—women who knew her deepest secret and spared her the searching looks because they accepted her—healed something Adriel hadn’t known was broken. Their compassion for her came from the wisdom gained during their own struggles with self-acceptance. While Adriel, in her capacity as guardian angel, had been assigned to watch over Amethyst during the past year, she’d had a ring-side seat when each woman had been put to the test.
Pulling her attention back to the present, Adriel chimed in on the raging debate over an appropriate color for Kat’s reading room. Nestled into the sunny spot created by a set of bay windows, a polished table and two chairs took up the most of the room. Seven sample colors marched across the table’s top. No wonder Kat couldn’t choose.
“The deep blue simply screams psychic,” Adriel’s tongue might have been firmly planted in her cheek, but the thread of truth in the words sent Gustavia into a fit of giggles.
“Yellow it is, then.” Kat decided firmly. “I prefer to avoid cliches when it comes to my line of work.”
“There are two shades of yellow. Which one?”
“That one.” Four voices chimed at once. Another tie.
“Then I get to decide, right?” Adriel established the parameters. Kat circled a hand to indicate she should get on with it. “Well, I choose this,” she passed over both pots of yellow and held up a medium gray with just enough hints of warmth to contrast nicely with the white trim and still work well with the tones in the kitchen.
“I love it, and I’m putting you in charge. Here’s the box, and here’s your crown.” Kat plopped a white paper painter’s cap over Adriel’s titian hair. Amethyst pulled a ten out of her pocket; handed it over to Kat with a sigh. “Might as well give this to you now. There’s no way it’s going past midnight with her in charge.” She cocked a thumb at Adriel.
An hour and a half later, Kat was the owner of a box of marked samples, a second box of rejects, and a completed chart listing all the color combinations.
“This calls for a celebration. It’s not even dark out yet ,and we’re done. I was sure we were still going to be arguing when the painters showed up in the morning,” Kat said.
“Then why did you bet me we’d be done before midnight?” Amethyst sent Kat a mock glare. No matter how many bets they made, Kat always won. They made so many that, paradoxically, Gustavia and Julie had bet on whether or not Kat and Ammie would bet.
“Red or white?” Amethyst’s question sailed right over Adriel’s head. She frowned her ignorance.
“What kind of wine do you like? Red or white?”
“Oh. I don’t have a favorite.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was close enough to trigger a second blurt, “I’ve never had wine before.” The words hit Adriel’s ears at the same time as the others heard them. It was becoming clear to her that lying, in any form, was not on her list of abilities.
“Give her the red,” Julie said.
Nose wrinkling at what she perceived as a rotten fruit smell, Adriel took a cautious sip of the ruby liquid. It tasted better than it smelled. She drank a little more and felt the burn of alcohol in the back of her throat. With half a glass gone, she felt a case of the giggles coming on. How undignified. She bit down on the urge to laugh, and something between a snort and a twitter emerged—which might have been fine except the current topic of conversation didn’t involve anything humorous.
All eyes turned toward her. “I think Adriel is drunk,” Kat’s glance took in the glass in her hand. “On half a glass of wine.”
“Must be an angel thing,” Adriel’s own comment set her off on another round of giggling. “Or something to do with spirits.” Her play on words missed the mark. “You know…alcohol is sometimes called spirits, and
