Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(29)

A sign of how immersed I was in my news was that I actually laughed at Michael. “Drinks on me. But, first…I need to tell Mom.”

“She’s going to flip out,” Melanie gasped.

“I know.”

“Let’s go to her shop now! She’ll never expect it!”

“Damn, I wish I could see her reaction,” Amy said. “Stupid gallery!”

“Let’s do it,” I said.

Melanie hugged me again. “I have the car.”

“You’re just going to leave?” Michael asked.

She waffled for a minute as if she had to think about how to respond to him. “I’ll call you later.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Michael, it’s for Nat.”

He looked like he was going to breathe fire.

“We’re leaving. Come on, Mel,” I said, stepping between them and pulling her toward the gallery exit. “See you, Amy!”

As soon as we were out of the gallery, Melanie jammed her finger down on the open button on the clicker for her Honda Civic. She basically ripped open her door before dropping into the driver’s side.

I slipped in after her. “Michael is…something.”

“I don’t want to talk about him right now, Nat. I know you don’t like him.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Melanie shot me a look to tell me to shut up and then put the car in reverse. I promptly shut up. She knew how I felt about Michael. It wasn’t a secret. No need to keep discussing it.

She zipped across town to our mom’s New Age shop, Ascension Books & Gifts. I’d always thought that the books and gifts part was a little misleading. It was primarily full of crystals, incense, tarot cards, special teas, and other metaphysical tools of her trade. The books mostly consisted of instructions on how to read crystal balls, interpret cards, and clean chakras. I still hadn’t discovered what she considered gifts. It just looked like a magic shop on the inside.

My mom had a slew of regular patrons who kept the shop open. And tourists who wanted their palms read and fortunes told usually made up the rest of the customers. Right now, thankfully, it was empty.

“Welcome to Ascension,” my mother said as the bell jangled overhead.

“Hi, Mom,” Melanie said.

“Oh, my daughters have graced me with their presence and at the same time. What must be the occasion?”

I hugged her and then pulled back to admire her beautiful, celestial blouse. “I like this. Where did you get it?”

“You always had style,” my mother said with a laugh then gestured to Melanie. “You, on the other hand.”

“Hey, I’m the one with style!” Melanie said. “I’m the one studying fashion.”

“The seventies were so much more fetching,” my mother said. She winked at me as Melanie huffed. “Now, tell me why you’re here. Something momentous I feel. I read it last night. I see you’re here now to tell me. What is it?”

“I hit the New York Times.”

“Oh, baby,” my mother said, “congratulations! I drew The World in tarot last night, and here it is. You’ll begin your new journey after this.”

I laughed. It was no use interpreting my mother’s predictions. She always had them, and only half of them ever had any semblance of truth.

“Thank you, Mom. I wanted to tell you first.”

“Have you told your father?”

I frowned and shook my head. My father didn’t exactly support my decision to be an author. He’d been aloof about the whole thing since I got an English degree.

“No, of course not,” she said, easily reading me.

I shrugged. “I’ll tell him at dinner.”

“He’ll be happy for you, I think.” My mom waved her hands about. “Now, sit. Sit. Both of you. I just put tea on. We’ll read.”

Melanie and I shared a look that said we both knew there was no point in turning her down. So, we sat with her and waited for the tea.

“Why aren’t you happy about this?” my mother asked as soon as the tea was in front of us.

“What? I am happy,” I said.

She gave me a shrewd look. “We’ve all noticed. Haven’t we, Melanie?”

“True,” Melanie agreed.

“What is this, an ambush?”

“She’s not wrong, Nat. You’ve just been kind of skating by.”

“You’ve been at college. How would you know?”

“Just think that I’ve been at college, and I’ve still noticed.”

My mother nodded. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted and no joy. Is it because you haven’t been working on your new book?”

I frowned. Maybe my mother was more intuitive than I gave her credit for. Or…maybe her readings were right. Sometimes, I wondered.

“Well, I was writing when I was in New York, but I came home, and everything got all muddled again. I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Have you considered that maybe this isn’t your home?” my mother asked.

I laughed. “Of course it is.”

“No,” Melanie said. “It’s my home. You didn’t grow up here, and you were happier when you were traveling.”