considered again and decided to go with work. Work was always safe. And maybe Hattie would tell her some exciting story. Like she’d discover something truly amazing. A composer long lost and recognized only by her.
“Okay,” Maggie said. She carefully picked up the cup, and tipped it over so the teacup was facedown on the saucer. She flipped it back over, and watched as Hattie lifted the cup and peered inside.
Hattie’s eyes lost some of their warmth as she focused, totally engrossed by what she saw in the cup. Her lips tugged down at the corners.
“You work a lot.”
Maggie’s own eyes widened. Okay, it was a little spooky that she went right to the topic of work. But then work was central to many people’s lives. Plus she had no wedding ring—and what did woman her age who weren’t married do?
Work.
“You actually hide in your work. Use it to avoid things like past failures, lack of love life.”
Maggie remained still. Okay, see, that was the line of thought she’d just followed herself. Safe deductions.
Hattie turned the cup slightly. “And I see that you were engaged. But that didn’t work out.”
Again, given her age, Maggie supposed that was a safe guess too.
She turned the cup again, as if she was reading the information like a book. “He was a liar. But his lies weren’t the worst of it, were they? It was how he lied to you—and also how he revealed his lies. Very painful.”
Maggie didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Hattie nodded as if she was silently agreeing with Maggie’s thoughts. She looked up from the cup. “You were lucky to escape him. Not a nice person. You are too sweet to have to deal with someone like him. Best to just let him go.”
Hattie shook her head as if she couldn’t quite believe how awful what she was seeing in the leaves had been. Maggie hadn’t believed it either, and she had a hard time imagining a scattering of wet tea leaves could do the whole fiasco justice.
For her, it had made her realize that you couldn’t know a person. Not totally.
“But that is definitely the past and you need to move on. You can’t let it make you bitter, or take the blame. You didn’t do anything to deserve what happened,” Hattie said, looking up to give her a stern look. “You didn’t deserve it. What happened was due to the type of person he was, not the type of person you are.”
Somehow Hattie’s emphatic words helped. The tightness Maggie didn’t even realize she had in her chest lessened. It was good to hear, even from a perfect stranger.
Hattie peered back into the cup, then made an approving noise. “I see music. Lots of music. You work with music, don’t you?”
Before Maggie could answer, Hattie added, “You don’t play music. You study it.”
Maggie nodded, even though Hattie didn’t look up to see if she confirmed or denied the statement. Instead, the fortune-teller turned the cup, and made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat.
“Hmm, I see a man. A new man.” Hattie glanced up at her. “Not the liar.”
Maggie’s breath caught for a second. Ren? Then she disregarded the idea. Of course she saw a man—didn’t all fortune-tellers see love in the cards? Or in the leaves, as the case may be.
“There is a man. And more music.”
Maggie froze, forgetting to breathe.
“He is surrounded by music too. He’s very artistic and creative. Just like you. But just like you, he doesn’t play…he did, but he doesn’t now.”
Disappointment washed over Maggie. It couldn’t be Ren. Like the reading was real anyway. And why should she care one way or the other if it was Ren or not? Sheesh.
“Do you know this man?” Hattie asked suddenly. “Because I feel like you have already met him.”
Maggie automatically shook her head.
“Well, he’s definitely in here,” Hattie said, peering into the cup, like the man was standing at the bottom, waving up at her. “Are you sure you haven’t met anyone in, say, the last week or so? I get the feeling this relationship is very new.”
Maggie nearly laughed. If it was Ren, the relationship was so new, it might as well have never happened.
“No,” Maggie said. “No one.”
“More music,” Hattie shook her head, clearly amazed. “The music is very, very important. That much is clear. And I keep seeing one note in particular. B-flat.”
The hair on Maggie’s arms stood on end, a chill running through her.
That was the key of the sonata she’d thought she’d heard Ren play. But then, that was the key of thousands of songs. But it wasn’t any key or any song. It was that song—and the exact right key.
Hattie shook her head again. “Well, if you haven’t met this man, you will. And the attraction I see here is so strong. Very strong. But I also see that you will be inclined to run away from it. You are scared of it. It isn’t clear, but I get the feeling you should be a little scared. This is very intense. Your feelings are so powerful.”
Maggie found herself nodding. Part of her wanted to ask more. But she couldn’t quite allow herself to believe what Hattie was saying.
“This man is like no other you have met. He’s wounded in some way. And he’s been alone a long time. That is a lot to handle.”
Hattie looked up from the cup, meeting Maggie’s eyes directly. “Just remember that you can’t cut yourself off from life and love because one person hurt you. You need to take risks. You need to live.”
Maggie nodded again.
“And it’s very clear that music is so important to all this. And not just your work. Your whole world seems surrounded by music.”
Then Hattie held the teacup out to her, tilting it so she could see the smattering of fine black leaves clinging to the sides. Maggie looked in, unsure what she was supposed to be looking at. She certainly didn’t see any of the things Hattie had mentioned. Not even the musical notes.
With a pen, Hattie used the tip to point at a pattern just below the lip of the cup. “Do you see that?”
Maggie nodded, studying where she pointed.
“This is of great consequence too. The way it’s separated from all the other patterns means it’s very important. But I don’t understand exactly what it means.”
Maggie peered at it, trying to decipher what the shape could be. And just as dawning realization hit her, Hattie said her very thought out loud.
“It looks like a face with long hair. And an eye.”
Immediately Ren’s face was vividly clear in Maggie’s head. Long hair and his eye with the white lashes.
“So, what did your psychic tell you?” Erika asked as soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Despite the bright sunlight and the ever-present humidity, a chill clung to Maggie’s skin. That had all been too strange. And a little too accurate. A small face with long hair flashed in her mind. The arrangement of leaves could have looked like a dozen different things. But it hadn’t. She and Hattie had seen the very same thing.
“Maggie? Are you okay?”
Maggie nodded, even as another chill prickled her skin. She couldn’t talk about it. Not yet.
Instead she asked Erika what her reading said. She was relieved when Erika excitedly told her. She was going to have a great year. Her career, as an artist, a sculptor, was going to finally take off. She’d actually have several very successful shows. She’d also