Any Way You Want It. Kathy Love

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СКАЧАТЬ swallowed and reached for a napkin. “It was unusual, but I didn’t think it was weird.” She brushed away the dusting, glad the peasant blouse she wore was mostly white.

      Jo shrugged. “Whatever. You can do better.”

      Maggie didn’t argue—but she didn’t agree either. Truthfully, she hadn’t talked to the man long enough to know what he was like, really. She did know that he seemed to run in varying degrees of hot and cold, but she wasn’t sure that was justification to hate him. After all, he hadn’t done anything particularly wrong.

      Oh, she’d definitely felt mortified at his abrupt aloofness and departure. But really it wasn’t that strange.

      She wasn’t a man-magnet, and he’d likely realized that very quickly once they’d gotten outside. She’d made conversation as if English was her second language. Her body had gone into overdrive every time he’d looked at her, as if she was some inexperienced schoolgirl.

      “I cannot believe he made you wait around like that, then just took off after a couple minutes’ talk,” Jo continued, tearing off another bite of beignet with more force than the poor pastry deserved.

      Maggie glanced at Erika, who smiled in silent agreement with Maggie’s look. They both knew Jo was no longer discussing the musician. Jo had crawled out of bed after only a few hours’ sleep to meet one of the sailors for breakfast at a place called Petunia’s, but the guy had never shown. Jo was not pleased.

      Apparently her irritation applied to all men at the moment.

      Maggie took another bite of her beignet, chewing thoughtfully. She had to admit she wasn’t upset with Ren. After all, she didn’t even know him. But she was upset with herself—for several reasons. Primarily because she’d actually thought he might be interested, and for wanting him to be interested.

      Thank goodness she hadn’t flirted back. If she was mortified now, imagine how she’d feel if she’d attempted flirting and then he’d fled.

      Of course, maybe if she had, he might have become interested. She was hopeless, eternally doomed to be devoid of feminine wiles.

      “I was thinking we should get our fortunes told today,” Erika suggested, obviously trying to change the atmosphere around the table. “I saw a place over on Chartres that looks great. All new-agey and cool.”

      Jo shook her head, pushing her remaining beignets away from her. Hopeful pigeons landed on the backs of chairs at a nearby table, gauging their chances of swooping in to steal a beignet…the drawback of an open-air café. Maggie pulled her plate closer.

      “All they are going to tell me is that I wasted my whole morning waiting for some guy to not show up. And I’m cranky from lack of sleep.” Jo took a sip of her café au lait.

      Erika laughed. “Actually, that’s past and present. Fortune-tellers tell your future.”

      “Well, my future involves a nap,” Jo said, pushing away from the table. The pigeons fluttered loudly into flight at the sudden movement. “I have to get some sleep or I’m going to be grumpy all night, too.”

      Maggie nodded sympathetically. She could use a nap, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. As tired as she was, the weird energy she’d felt since arriving still filled her. Last night, she’d gotten, maybe, three hours of sleep, then had finally given up.

      She couldn’t relax. She thought about Peter. She thought about Ren. She thought about that music. Now she wasn’t sure if he’d been playing the song currently locked away in the safe in her office. But the melody of what he had been playing kept haunting her.

      Several times during the night, she’d been sure her initial thoughts were right—but then, not. The strange energy of the city seemed to cloud everything. So far, everything had felt surreal, like living smack in the middle of a lucid dream. Of course, that could be the lack of sleep too.

      “So what about you?” Erika asked Maggie. “Will you go with me? I want my tea leaves read.”

      Maggie nodded. “Sure.” She brushed more sugar from her shirtfront. She might as well go find out what her future held; it had to be better than her recent past.

      “So you want your tea leaves read?”

      Maggie turned slightly in the rickety ladder-back chair as an older woman pushed aside the curtain that covered the doorway.

      Maggie’s first impression was witch. Long, coarse gray hair, streaked in places, vaguely hinted at what had once been its original color. She was easily in her sixties, maybe in her seventies.

      She navigated through the space, which wasn’t much more than a booth, really, dodging two small tables scattered with mystical bric-a-brac, and took a seat across from Maggie.

      She waited, a look of patient anticipation on her face. Then Maggie realized she had asked her a question.

      “Yes. Tea leaves. Thank you.” Maggie considered herself polite, but she suddenly felt the need to be extra polite to this woman. After all, she was going to tell her the secrets of her future.

      The older woman nodded and began preparing for the reading, placing down a paper towel, arranging a yellowed tea cup on a saucer on top of that.

      “My name is Hattie,” she said as she worked. “I’ve had my ability to see the future since I was a child.”

      Maggie nodded, not sure what she was supposed to say to that.

      Hattie paused from pouring tea into the cup. “And I am very good, very in tune with the ether—but I think it would just be easier if you told me your name.”

      A laugh escaped Maggie. “I’m sorry. I’m Maggie.”

      “Hello, Maggie.” Hattie didn’t offer her hand, but did offer a smile that revealed slightly yellowed teeth, and a warmth in her blue eyes. The witch impression was immediately transformed into a grandmotherly one.

      Maggie found herself relaxing her posture, just a bit.

      “So are you visiting us from someplace else?”

      Maggie realized that was always one of the first questions people asked here. First sign of a tourist town, she guessed.

      “Yes. From D.C.”

      Hattie nodded. “I went there years ago. Weird aura there. Must be all the politicians.”

      Maggie smiled, and realized she actually agreed. She couldn’t deny that while New Orleans had a strong energy, it was a nice feeling. An almost giddy feeling. Whereas D.C. felt oddly cold and…well, like Hattie said, weird. And she supposed the abundance of politicians was as good an explanation as any.

      Maggie paused. When had she ever considered such things? She’d never thought about the energy of a place. She wasn’t so cosmic—yet after two days of being in this city, she was starting to think there could be a certain mystic quality to a place.

      Still, she didn’t really believe a person could tell her future. First of all, why would this woman get a vision of her life from the other side? Maggie wasn’t interesting enough to merit spirits or energies or whatever taking the time to send visions to Hattie. At best, Hattie СКАЧАТЬ