Iva looked at Gideon. “Baxter James is our local brewmaster. Baxter’s Beatnik Brews—B-Cubed. You might have heard of them. He moonlights as a freelance journalist.”
“Makes a damned good IPA,” Hollis Nath said, looking up from his menu.
Any further conversation was pre-empted when their server came over to give the specials.
“Do take a look at Hollis’s hand for me, will you,” Iva said, leaning toward Fiona just after their round of drinks was delivered. Her eyes sparkled. “He doesn’t put any credence into any of this, and I want you to tell him something that will change his mind.”
“Now, Iva, really, I—”
“Please, dear, just indulge me, won’t you?” Iva patted his hand and gazed up at him with such an endearing expression that Fiona could see the elderly man melt into a puddle of wax right before her eyes.
They must have been married a long time.An uncomfortable feeling jetted through her mind. What would it be like to be attached to—responsibleto—another person for decades?
She risked a glance at Gideon, and found that instead of paying attention to the byplay between his grandfather and Iva, he was watching Fiona with an inscrutable expression. Their eyes clashed for a mere second, then he quirked a grin and raised his wine glass as though to say, “You asked for it.”
“It’s been around for centuries, you know,” Iva was saying earnestly to Gideon Senior. “Palm reading. And there is some scientific proof to its validity. The Hindus are credited with its inception—and it’s believed that the people we know of as the Rom originally came from India.” When she caught Fiona looking at her in surprise, Iva shrugged. “I’m a librarian,” she explained with a modest smile.
“And a killer player at any trivia game,” the elder Nath said with an affectionate smile.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Nath, I would like to take a look at your hands. I’ve been admiring them all evening,” Fiona said truthfully.
They were the kind of hands she loved, with long, well-shaped fingers, well-defined lines, and a solid, square palm—easy to read and interpret.
“And never fear, Mr. Nath—I don’t tell fortunes. One’s hands are merely an insight into the personality of a person, and, sometimes, their potentials—or lost potentials. Now, if you’re right-handed, I’ll need to see that hand.”
The blustery man was really a soft old teddy bear, as Fiona was beginning to learn, and, with an awkward glance at his grandson, he set his glass down then extended his hand toward her. His palm rested in the center of the round table, and Iva hastily moved a vase of orange and yellow mums out of the way.
“You have a generous nature, but an ambitious strain as well,” Fiona told the elder Nath, smoothing her thumb along his palm. She was surprised when she saw the marriage lines on the side of his little finger and looked up at him suddenly. “How long have you two been married?”
He stiffened, then glanced at Iva. “We aren’t married.Yet.” He moved his free hand to pat Iva’s. “She’s the love of my life—but I didn’t find her until I was seventy.”
Fiona relaxed a little. “And this would be your—uh—I mean, how many marriages?”
“I thought you were supposed to be able to tell that from looking at his hand,” Gideon snarked.
“I’d be his fourth wife,” Iva replied, giving him an arch look. “Ifwe get married.”
Fiona smiled with relief—there were only four marriage lines. “And you’d be his last,” she said, then looked at the older man. “And only one child? A son?”
He nodded, although some of the light went out of his face. “Yes, that’s right.” Then he smiled at Iva. “I doubt we’ll be having any of our own, hmm, dear?”
“No, but some grandchildren would be nice,” she said brightly.
Fiona looked at his thumb—how it angled away from the rest of the hand, its length, and the way the top curved back from the nail. Many palmists felt that the thumb was the best indicator of personality overall, and she liked what she saw. “You’re ambitious and organized, not willing to take too many risks. You’re not easily influenced.”
She was murmuring to herself more than anything now. She moved her attention to his long middle finger, the Saturn finger, and continued. “This indicates that you’re serious and down to earth—but not overly inclined to pessimism. It’s slightly inclined toward your forefinger, the Jupiter, indicating your assertive personality toward business…but,” she looked up at him, “you’re much more tentative about your emotional life.”
She could tell by his expression—and Iva’s—that she was accurate in her suppositions. But, feeling the heavy, sarcastic weight of Gideon’s gaze on hers, Fiona decided not to continue her thoughts aloud. She released Gideon Senior’s hand.
“Well,” she said lightly, “that was just a quick look. Hope I didn’t spook anyone.” She gave a pointed look toward Gideon, who was all but glaring at her. Yet, heat simmered beneath his look and caused her stomach to flip slowly over and around like a lava lamp.
“Why don’t you take a look at Gideon’s hand?” Iva suggested.
Gideon snorted, but Fiona, feeling the devilish imp prodding her once again, turned to look at him. “I’d be happy to see what secrets he’s hiding.”
Seven
“Absolutely not.”Gideon tightened his fingers around his drink as though she was trying to pry them open. How on earth had he gotten into this mess?
