Fatal Charm (3 page)

“Josh and I are better than ever,” I insisted as I emptied socks, undies, and bras from my suitcase to the appropriate drawers. I wasn’t a complete neat freak, but I did like things orderly.

Penny-Love arched her brow. “Even though he stood you up repeatedly when you were living with your parents?”

“Long-distance relationships are hard. But I’m back so we’ll go out more often.”

“Pen, stop digging for dirt,” Jill said with a wag of her finger. “Can’t you tell Josh and Sabine are über-perfect together? What’s up with you anyway? Jealous?”

“As if!”’ Penny-Love sniffed, pushing a red curl away from her eyes as she sat cross-legged on my carpet. “I have Jacques, the most incredible guy ever, rugged and strong, yet sensitive, too. He’s my sweet artist and painting is only the beginning of his many talents. Let me tell you … ”

Pushing aside my suitcase, I plopped on the carpet beside my best friend and leaned in to hear her very sexy retelling of her latest date with Jacques (whose real name was plain old Jack). She grinned proudly when she got to the part about Jacques asking to paint her nude. She was thinking of saying yes, but only if he brushed out all her freckles. Of course with P-L, I never knew how much was truth and how much was exaggeration. But who cared? The focus was off my romantic confusion and it was great to be back with my friends. They might not know the secret me—the psychic freak with a direct line to dead people—but when I was with them I felt normal. And being “normal” was like taking a relaxing vacation from weird.

Unfortunately this vacation was about to end.

Soon I’d go on the weirdest trip of my life.

And witness a murder.

My girlfriends hurried off for a cheerleading meeting at Jill’s, which I was invited to but declined because:

A) I was only a mascot friend and not part of the squad.

B) I had to finish unpacking.

C) Total exhaustion.

When my mother told me she was heading back to San Jose, I offered to walk her to her car. Lilybelle trailed after us, pouncing down the porch steps and swatting at one of the chickens before returning to rub around my ankles.

Mom was quiet as we walked and I braced myself for an awkward scene. You just never knew when she would slip into Dictator Mode. But instead of the expected lecture warning me to avoid psychic “nonsense,” Mom wrapped me in a hug and said she’d miss me. I didn’t completely believe she meant this, but it was nice to hear. She even slipped me a few twenties, which I saw no reason to refuse and promptly tucked in my pocket.

Then it was just Nona and me.

My grandmother invited me to sit with her in the kitchen, so I pulled up one of the four mismatched chairs. Nona’s kitchen was one-fourth the size of my mother’s gleaming chrome and granite kitchen, with homey pine cabinets, floral-designed linoleum, and a cozy dining nook with a mural of wild roses blossoming up one wall. The round wood table still had a pink stain from when I was six and accidentally spilled Nona’s Desert Rose nail polish. My mother would have immediately thrown out a damaged table.

“Tea?” Nona asked with a lift of the kettle.

“Yes, please,” I said, smiling. “Jasmine flower.”

“Excellent choice.”

I leaned forward slightly to watch the bubbling water spill into a reddish brew from a tea kettle shaped like a Victorian house. The porcelain kettle had been an anniversary gift from her second (or third?) husband, and was designed with a circlet of painted tarot cards. As I looked at the symbols, one seemed to throb and flash a secret message. The Hanged Man symbol that warned that things were not as they appeared to be.

I didn’t want to think about warnings.

The floral tea was sweet—and being with my grandmother was even sweeter. She didn’t have to say anything and neither did I. We shared something beyond understanding. Nona teased that our connection went back to long ago past lives when we’d been sisters and even spouses. Did I believe this? I wasn’t sure, but whether I believed or not didn’t really matter.

For a while, we sipped tea in comfortable silence.

Beneath the table, Lilybelle rubbed against my legs, her fluffy tail tickling me. I reached down to scratch behind her ears, which made her purr loudly. I’d missed my kitty and the other farm animals. My mother’s decorating scheme didn’t include messy pets, only a large aquarium with rare species of fish. But you couldn’t cuddle a fish. And Lilybelle’s purr rumbled like a kitty love song.

I smiled across a wisp of kettle steam at my grandmother, feeling truly at peace and grateful. Even more reassuring, Nona glowed with remarkable health, showing no signs of memory loss. I hoped her illness was in remission, and she wouldn’t lose her way again while driving to the grocery store or misplace her keys in the refrigerator. Penny-Love had reassured me that my grandmother was handling business duties better than ever, but I hadn’t quite believed it until now. Mega relief. Even Mom had noticed the improvement in Nona, although she still warned me to keep an eye on my grandmother.

“It’s great to be back. Thanks,” I told my grandmother, my spoon making a clinking sound as I stirred my tea.

“I’m the one who should offer thanks.” She reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “It’s been quiet and lonely without you. I’ve even missed finding your makeup all over the bathroom counter.”

“I put my stuff away … well usually,” I added. “Anyway, you couldn’t have been that lonely with Penny-Love around.”

“Penny? Oh yes … ”

“She’s been having a blast working for you. It’s all she ever talks about in her emails, aside from Jacques. She’s in love with the concept of love and signs everything Penny-Love, Professional Love Assistant,” I added, chuckling over the title Pen had given herself.

“Love Assistant?” Nona repeated, sounding puzzled.

“Corny, I know, but it makes Pen happy. I’m just glad she’s been around to help you. I felt bad enough leaving, but knowing Penny-Love and Dominic were here made it easier. Although I guess Dominic hasn’t been around.” I should have stopped there and reminded myself I had a boyfriend. But I was hungry for any news of Dominic and couldn’t resist asking, “Have you heard from him?”

“Heard what?”

“How Dominic is doing.” I kept my face blank, hiding the jump in my heart at Dominic’s name. “Not that I care or anything. I’m just curious. Has he called?”

“The phone hasn’t rung … at least I don’t think … What did you ask?”

A mask slipped from her face to reveal terrifying truths. She had no idea what I was talking about. Nona had checked out and I was looking at a stranger, not my grandmother. Her eyes were ringed in dark circles and her fingers trembled as she held too tight to her tea cup. Wisps of her silver-blond hair dangled from her scarf as if she’d hastily bound it up without brushing. Her fingernails, which were usually manicured in glossy polish, were chipped and as pale as bone.

“Are you okay?” I asked many questions with these three words. Why aren’t you taking better care of yourself? How is your memory? Have you lost important papers, missed appointments, neglected the animals? Can you remember what you did yesterday? Do you remember me?

“Of course I’m okay.” My grandmother jutted out her chin defiantly. “Pour me more tea, will you?”

“But your cup is nearly full.”

“It’s cooled off and I can’t abide cold tea.” She held out her porcelain cup. “Be a dear and refill this for me.”

“Sure, Nona.” Calm words to hide turbulent fears. Something was definitely off here. But I took the cup and walked over to the sink.

With a flick of my hand, I dumped the tea and watched lavender-brown liquid swirl down the sink. A slight shuffling sound behind me made me look over my shoulder just in time to see Nona reaching into her butterfly skirt pocket. She withdrew a thick bundle of notes. She peered through reading glasses, flipping through the papers with focused concentration and murmuring under her breath.

As if she sensed me watching, she looked up—but I immediately glanced away. Still I could see her peripherally as she shoved the notes back into her pocket. I poured the tea, then strode back to the table and set the hot cup before her.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, sounding almost cheerful.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“That’s the way I like it. And you’re right about Penny-Love being a valuable ‘Love Assistant.’ She’s a great help running Soul-Mate Matches. Although she doesn’t know the matches aren’t only made with computers—that my guides give me information from the other side. As for Dominic, I couldn’t ask for a better handyman and apprentice. His ability to connect with animals is amazing.”

She was repeating facts like an overachieving student trying to impress a teacher. My fears worsened, but I tried to act calm. “So where is Dominic?”

“Who can keep up with young people?” She waved away my question like an insignificant wisp of lint. “Why don’t you go outside and look for him? He’s around here somewhere.”

No, he wasn’t. Alarm bells rang and my gut twisted with worry. Dominic was in Nevada searching for the last charm needed to find the remedy for Nona’s illness. He hadn’t been here for several days.

“Nona, please tell me what’s going on. Don’t pretend with me.”

“Pretend what?” she asked innocently.

“That everything is all right.”

“I’m not pretending anything. What an absurd notion. And why are you looking at me like that?”

I held out my hand. “Show me those papers you have hidden.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, not meeting my gaze.

Instead of arguing, I lunged forward and reached into her butterfly pocket. Before she realized what was happening, I’d grabbed the clump of papers.

“Give those back!”

“No!” I jumped back.

“Those are my personal and private papers. You have no right to take them!”

“Stop it, Nona,” I said, skimming the papers through tears.

Nona’s notes. Important and minor details of her life scribbled down to help her remember: names of friends, clients, relatives, and even the farm animals. There were details about her business, meditation chants, and diagrams of the house and out-buildings. She listed bill payment dates, bank accounts, phone numbers, and an hour-by-hour schedule. She had fooled everyone.

“Nona, tell me the truth,” I said sadly.

“Give me those notes!” she demanded.

When she reached out, I simply handed her the papers. But I’d already seen enough and was too miserable to argue. It was like watching all the beautiful colors fade from a glorious painting. Soon only a blank canvas would remain, and there was nothing I could do, except pray Dominic succeeded on his mission.

“So now you know,” Nona said with defeat.

“Oh, Nona.” I wiped dampness from my cheek. “How can I help?”

“Hold yourself together, Sabine. For the moment I have my wits, and I refuse to wallow in self-pity.”

“You’d never wallow. You’re the strongest woman I know. Keeping these notes was brilliant—you even fooled Mom.”

“She was easy because she’s afraid of change and saw what she wanted to see, as most people do. But I couldn’t fool you. To be honest, I’m relieved. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself together much longer.”

“You’ll beat this illness. Dominic will get the last charm, then we’ll find the cure. I know it,” I said, although in truth I knew nothing. My sixth sense tuned in great on other people’s problems, but short-circuited my internal radar when problems were too close.

“My short-term memory is dreadful. I’m losing large chunks of each day. I’ll suddenly find myself somewhere I don’t remember going surrounded by strangers. My notes save me embarrassment, but soon I might forget they exist.”

“I’ll help you remember.”

“But you can’t watch me 24-7 and waiting for Dominic seems increasingly futile. So it’s time to try something else,” she said, pursing her lips with firm resolve.

“There is no other cure. You told me the story about our ancestor Agnes creating the remedy, then dying before she could tell anyone where it was hidden. Finding something that’s been lost for over one hundred and fifty years won’t be easy, but we’ll do it. Too bad we can’t just call Agnes on the phone and ask her where she hid it.”

“Why not?”

“Um … she’s been dead for over a century.”

“A little detail like that can’t stop us.” Nona’s face lit up. “I don’t know why we didn’t try this sooner.”

“Try what?” I asked uneasily.

“Contacting Agnes personally. We’ll hold a séance.”