Your Perfect Year(29)

“Would you like a glass of water?” She reached for the carafe. “It’s been activated with healing stones.”

Jonathan noticed for the first time that some purple stones lay on the bottom of the crystal pitcher. “No, thanks.” Who could say what was floating around in that water? A cloud of bacteria, at best.

“Very well.” She poured herself a glass of water and drank two big gulps before setting it down with a sigh of satisfaction. “Oh, that feels good!”

“Hmm.” Jonathan wasn’t sure what to say. The easy situation had all at once become suffocating, and he hoped the client wouldn’t take too much longer to arrive. It really wasn’t acceptable to arrive so late. When there was a fixed appointment—a professional one in Frau Schulz’s case, after all—Jonathan was firmly of the opinion that being fashionably late simply wasn’t an option.

The psychic didn’t seem concerned in the slightest; she sat completely relaxed, drinking her healing water and looking at Jonathan with an open, friendly expression.

Neither of them said a word; only the ticking of the clock filled the room.

Shortly before half past seven, Jonathan decided to try the water. He passed Sarasvati his glass, saying casually, “I might as well have a drink.” Smiling, she poured him a glass. He raised it to his lips and was surprised by how nice and fresh the water tasted. Whether or not it was “activated,” he couldn’t say—but it was no worse than the Evian he liked to drink.

A quarter to eight. Jonathan toyed with his empty glass. “It looks like your client isn’t coming,” he observed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sarasvati replied.

“But you’ve put aside three hours!” How could she be so calm and casual about it? He would be fuming if someone wasted his time like that.

“They’ve paid up front.”

“You take advance payments?”

“PayPal.”

“How does that work?”

“It’s very practical. The client simply uses their email address to send it to mine.”

“Money by email? Don’t you think it’s a bit insecure?”

“No.” She laughed. “Your account’s managed using your email address, that’s all.”

“So that means you must know your client’s name,” Jonathan said.

“Not in this case,” she replied, to his disappointment. “The email address used for the payment doesn’t give a hint of a name. The meeting was booked as a gift via my website. There’s a calendar where you can check for free time slots and reserve one.”

“You have a website?”

“Of course. I have to move with the times.”

“Yes, of course.” He smiled. “You seem to be a very modern clairvoyant,” he said appreciatively.

“Life adviser.”

“Indeed.”

They both fell silent again as the hands of the clock crept forward agonizingly slowly.

“Well,” Sarasvati said as a deep bell rang out eight times. “You seem to be right that no one’s coming. So it looks like I can’t help you. And since you don’t want to leave the diary with me—”

“Isn’t there any way you can find out who made the appointment?” He could hear the despair in his own voice and felt embarrassed at his lack of composure. He couldn’t explain the strength of his feelings.

Sarasvati frowned and looked at him searchingly. “Why is it so important to you?” she asked. “The owner has nothing to do with you.”

“True, but . . .” But what? The diary could be my mother’s? The whole thing just feels important? Not a lot happens in my life, and this is the first time in ages that . . . “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I’d better hand the Filofax in to the police and forget about it.”

“You think that’s for the best?” She stared at him so intently with her almond eyes that Jonathan felt warmth coursing through him.

“Well, if the owner hasn’t turned up here and you don’t know who he or she is . . .” He had a flash of inspiration. “You could send an email to the address they paid with! That way you could tell them I’ve found a diary and they can come see me to pick it up. I can give you my phone number.”

“I could,” Sarasvati agreed. “But why should I?”

“Um.” He was momentarily speechless. “Out of the kindness of your heart?”

“I do have a kind heart, yes.” She smiled broadly. “And because I do, I’m offering again to read the cards for you. The consultation’s been paid for, after all.”

“No, no,” he said. “It really isn’t my thing.”

She wouldn’t let it drop. “If you just allow yourself to think for one second that nothing in life happens by chance, and then wonder why you’re sitting here with me—aren’t you dying to know what the outcome could be?”

“Uh . . .” He hesitated. “No?” His determined statement came out as a question.

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t understand why you’re so determined to look into my future!”

“Your possibilities,” Sarasvati corrected.