“No, really. I’ve got this. You need to save your money for…something, I’m sure.” She didn’t bother to smile or make it seem like they had anything more to say. “In fact, I’m going to have another glass of poison and a cream-heavy dessert. Feel free to make your way back to your bedroom in your parents’ house.”
Binky stood, looking shaken. “You know, I didn’t think there was any truth to the thing about generations being too different to make it work. But you’re obviously older and jaded, and that’s just a sad vibe in this day and age.” She put her jacket on. “Thank you for dinner.”
Marina gave her a mock salute and sighed into her wine glass as Binky the Boring left, her head held high. She was right though. The age gap thing may not have made a difference before, but the world itself was different now, and she just couldn’t get on board with the touchy-feely, no ambition, no drive, no confrontation way of the people coming out now. There was no edge, no grit.
She ordered the tres leches cake and a glass of moscato, then continued to peruse her phone. Her Tinder app had a red circle indicating notices, and she figured she might as well poke fun at other would-be pursuers. Maybe she’d find a match willing to have sex without conversation. Talking just made it clear that compatibility between the sheets was far easier to find than compatibility outside the bedroom.
For now, all she wanted was a woman with stamina who knew better than to try to stay the night. Was that so much to ask?
CHAPTER 2
“Whore!”
River Rigel sat up, her heart pounding, as the ancient woman with the wild white hair and eyes black as voids faded away. “Damn it, Marjorie.” She ran her hands over her face. “I wish you’d quit doing that.”
Shamus, her Maine Coon, gave a loud protest and burrowed deeper under the comforter. He’d grown used to Marjorie’s presence but often told her off when she managed to disturb him.
Awake now, she shoved aside the comforter and shuffled to the bathroom. Dawn was just breaking, sending filmy light through the old stained-glass windows of her little house. In the mirror, she saw that her short dark hair was sticking up at odd angles, and her eyes looked more gray than blue, surrounded as they were by bloodshot whites. Beneath her eyes were dark smudges, like she’d forgotten to wash off eye makeup. Not that she ever wore any, but she’d woken up next to enough women who did to know the look. Sighing, she turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face. Haunted nights didn’t make for good sleep, and a lack of sleep meant she looked more likesomeone from the Addams family than someone you’d want a relationship with.
Ablutions done, she shuffled to the kitchen and flipped on the coffee pot. In the reflection of the microwave door, she saw Marjorie hovering near the window as she often did as the sun rose. Of course, when River turned around to get the milk, there was no one there.
She took her coffee to the window seat and looked out over her large front yard. Her bungalow was one of the few set back from the street, and she loved that extra bit of privacy. The glass orb hanging in front of the kitchen window bobbed gently, sending little rainbow dots of light across the walls and ceiling. Starting her day this way was exactly right. Bitter, dark coffee and dancing color. Marjorie was close enough to make River’s skin goosebump, despite their truce once Marjorie realized that River could see and hear her. River still didn’t know what kept Marjorie’s spirit in the old, converted church. She’d asked but never received any reply.
“Okay. Let’s get the day started.” She whistled tunelessly as she showered and dressed, then made herself a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and honey. While she waited for it to go from scalding to edible, she pulled out her well-loved, fading tarot deck. Since she didn’t have any specific questions today, she just shuffled, cut the deck in three, and pulled out a card.
The Wheel of Fortune. That was one she hadn’t had in a while. What turning points or changes would she possibly face? Her daily routine was one she cherished, and she liked that there were rarely things that she couldn’t make sense of or that upset her equilibrium. With a shrug, knowing full well that it would make itself clear by the time the day was over, she set the deck aside, leaving the card separate so she could analyze it further when she got home.
She grabbed her keys and headed out into the late summer heat, which was already rising along with the sun. The three-block walk to her shop, Echoes and Insights, was always one she enjoyed. Well, almost always. When snow was pummeling down like snowballs being thrown by angry angels, it was less than ideal.
On the corner, she popped into A Cup of Joe.
“Morning, seer of all things grim and grotesque,” Billy sang out as he started her morning latte.
“Morning, purveyor of all things caffeinated and corny.” River sat at the counter and gave a quick smile to a few of the other regulars.
He snapped a dishtowel in the air, making it crack. “You look like you spent the night in a fist fight with the wind. Are you okay?” He set the latte down in front of her and then bagged an apple fritter to go with it.
She didn’t bother to tell him she’d been kept awake by the cries of a newly departed soul from down the street, then been woken by her ghostly, highly judgmental roommate. “Lots of work right now. And I’ve been getting things ready for the autumn festivals.”
“Don’t remind me. I’ve hired three kids from the college to help me out, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to explain what a coffee bean is, before I can even start showing them how to make one into a drink.”
“You’re so ageist.” She smiled and took a sip of the latte, which was heavenly. “See you later.”
He’d already turned to another customer as she pushed open the door and headed back into the sunlight. As she unlocked her shop, she looked critically in the front window. August was nearly over, and it was time to get the fall merch out, along with the decorations. The window was smudged and needed a good clean too. She could barely make out the figurine of the witch ina bikini sunbathing beside her cat, also in a bikini, that read Lake Michigan: Home of the Best Beach Witches.
She wasn’t entirely sure it made sense, but it sold well, and that’s what mattered. As she entered and flipped on the lights, she inhaled the smell of sandalwood and sage, the hallmarks of any good metaphysical shop, as far as she was concerned. She flipped on the spotlights in the special cases of magically bonded wands and the one with the Zippo lighters with different witchy designs. She lit today’s incense, a strawberry cone, and then went into the back room and put on a pot of coffee infused with CBD. It helped keep her relaxed when her clients got feisty. She chugged the last of the latte she’d picked up from Billy and grimaced. This was probably a vice she needed to get a handle on.
The bell on the door rang, and she checked her watch. On time, as usual. She pasted on a smile. “Mrs. Crabtree. Nice to see you. How are you today?”
With a face that matched her name nicely, Mrs. Crabtree glowered at her, as always. “Don’t you use that tone with me, River Rigel. I used to change your diapers, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am. You remind me of that often.” River motioned to the small, two-seater table in the corner. “The usual?”
“No. Not the usual. The usual is me telling you I want to hear from Charles, and you telling me he doesn’t want to talk to me. Today, I want you to do better.” She sat primly at the table, cane across her lap like she might use it as a sword at some point.
River sat down and tapped the huge piece of pink quartz in the middle of the table. “I’ve never said he doesn’t want to talk to you. I’ve said he isn’t here. I’m not a magician, Mrs. Crabtree. I can’t just pull him out of the afterlife so you can tell him off for dying.”
She harumphed and tapped the table hard. “Other psychics can do it. Why can’t you?”
