Your Perfect Year(54)

Jonathan laid a hand on his shoulder from behind and held him back.

“A guys’ night sounds kind of good.”

Leopold turned back to him. “Really?”

“But you’ll have to cook. I can only do fried eggs and bacon.”

“Why do you have this contraption with six gas burners, then?” his guest asked, nodding toward the huge freestanding island in the middle of the room. “And why eight stainless-steel pots and four frying pans?” He indicated the array of professional equipment hanging from a rack above their head.

Jonathan shrugged. “No idea,” he confessed. “But it looks good, doesn’t it? And you don’t cook a fried egg in your hand!”

“It’s such a shame!”

“That you can’t cook a fried egg in your hand?”

“No.” Leopold laughed. “That a lovely kitchen like this is wasted on a man who doesn’t know its true value.”

Jonathan N. Grief spread his arms in an expansive gesture. “As I’ve said, make yourself at home! Mi casa es su casa.”

“You speak Italian?”

“It’s Spanish, actually.” Jonathan thought as he said it that no, he couldn’t speak Italian.

Also a shame.





26

Hannah

Fourteen days before:

Wednesday, December 20, 1:01 a.m.

“The guy was a real creep.”

Hannah listened with interest as Lisa told her about her experiences in the world of clairvoyants. She could hardly believe that her friend had been having her cards read every few weeks for years—and had never mentioned a thing about it.

Hannah felt a tiny spark of disappointment and hurt, since she had thought the two of them were close enough for Lisa to have shared it. She tried to push aside her feelings about this “betrayal,” which in fact wasn’t one, and simply listen to her friend’s account. Didn’t everyone—even Lisa—have a right to their secrets?

“I should have known,” her friend said, continuing her account of her visit to the self-styled “psychic” who had tried to tell her the unwanted date of her death. “I mean, what else could I have expected from someone who calls himself Mr. Magic?”

“Mr. Magic?” Hannah almost choked. “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m not,” Lisa said. “But he was.”

“How did you end up going to see him?”

She shrugged. “Found him on the internet. Despite the crazy name, his website looked good. I just wanted to try it.”

“Well, anyway, what did you say when he threatened to tell you the date you’d die?”

“What do you think? I got up and walked out!”

“That’s what I’d have done too.”

“You just claimed the exact opposite—that you’d want to know.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “And I would. But not from a tarot reader. Anyway, I don’t believe it is possible to predict the day you’re going to die.”

“I don’t really believe it either,” Lisa said. “But trust me, the moment someone says they can see when you’re going to die, you get a real scare.”

“If that someone goes by the name of Mr. Magic, I’d be more likely to have a laughing fit.”

“You weren’t there.” Lisa pouted.

“That’s true. I’d never have gone to someone with a name like that in the first place.”

“That’s easy to say after the fact. Anyway, there are others out there besides Mr. Magic.”

“I should hope so.”

“Seriously, now.” Her friend was getting irritated. “Some of my consultations have been a great help.”

“With what?” Hannah couldn’t keep the skepticism from her face.

“With making decisions, for example.”

“Name me one!”

Lisa thought for a moment. “For example, when we were considering whether to go it alone and set up the Little Rascals business—”

“You’re saying that when we were deciding whether or not to take this crucial step, you sought advice from some psychic guy?”

“From a life adviser.” Her friend’s lips were pursed in offense. “Anyway, it was a woman.”

“Oh, that makes it completely different.”

Lisa sighed. “Forget it! I don’t see the point in saying more.”

“No, please go on. It’s really exciting.”

“Nah,” Lisa said. “I’m not interested anymore.”

“Please,” she pleaded.

“No.”

“Please, please, please! It’ll be a nice distraction from these horrible worries about Simon.”

“Now you’re resorting to emotional blackmail. That’s unfair. How can I refuse?” She crossed her arms and regarded her friend reproachfully.

“Oh, go on!” Hannah continued to beg. “I won’t interrupt again.”

“You won’t be able to resist.”

Hannah turned an imaginary key over her mouth and threw it in a vast arc. “Hmph.”

“Very well,” Lisa said generously. “Of course, I didn’t base my decision entirely on what the cards said. The consultation merely strengthened my conviction that we were doing the right thing, because all the indications pointed to success.”