Trouble in the Tarot (2 page)

And last but never least, my extended family: The Townsends, the Harmons, and the Russos (especially my niece Meghan and my sister Debbie, who just “get” me and always know exactly what to say). I have the best, most supportive family ever. You all rock. And a special thanks to my mom, Marion Harmon, who is a rock star herself. The woman is literally my biggest cheerleader, and I seriously couldn’t do any of this without her. Love you, Mom. Thanks, everyone. Another one bites the dust.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

1

“The cards predict a very long week ahead of us, Morty,” I said as I laid out my fortune-telling supplies on a table inside the gazebo in Mini Central Park.

My big, white, beautiful, arrogant cat scowled and gave me a look—as much as a feline can give a look—that said,
Duh! Ya think?

“
How
did I let her talk me into this?” I asked.

Cat or no cat, his scowl deepened, and I swore I could see the brow he didn’t have arch sky-high.

“Fine. Not me,
us
,” I added, making a set of air quotes. “And don’t give me that look, mister. You can’t say no to her any more than I can.”

I shook my head at the ridiculous traditional, turban-style fortune-teller hat she’d tied to his head because I’d refused to wear one. I was a real psychic and simply
used fortune-telling tools to help interpret my visions. I didn’t care to add to the stigma already attached to my profession.

As usual, Granny was clueless and made it clear she thought I was being silly. She thought Morty looked adorable and that his attire added to our authenticity. I didn’t have the energy to argue, so I’d let it go. At least it was an improvement over the god-awful bow ties she usually dressed him up in.

Morty rolled his jet black eyes, leapt onto the railing, and stretched out in the early morning sunshine. I could see he would be absolutely no help whatsoever.

Just peachy.

The small town of Divinity, located in upstate New York, kicked off the summer every year with its Summer Solstice Carnival. This year June twenty-first fell on a Friday, so the carnival would start today, continue all week with an auction to boot, and end on Sunday, June thirtieth, with the widely popular bakeoff.

My grandmother Gertrude was a member of Trixie’s Sewing Circle, and they were in charge of the carnival this year. Somehow, I’d let Granny Gert talk me into reading tarot cards under the gazebo.
All for a good cause, mind you
, she’d said, pointing out that the money the carnival raised would help the local animal shelter. The carnival committee chose a different charity every year to help support through the carnival proceeds, and this one just happened to be near and dear to my heart.

As cunning as my cat, Granny had pounced.
You find such joy in Morty. Why not help others find an animal to love? If we don’t raise enough money to get Animal Angels going, they might have to shut down before they even get started. Just think of what might happen to those critters if they don’t get adopted,
she’d said, knowing the word
euthanize
wasn’t in my vocabulary. So here I was…

Nine A.M. on a Friday morning, setting up shop in the park.

I was
not
an early riser or a coffee drinker. Hot cocoa or tea for me. Only, neither one was doing the trick this morning. I yawned and tugged my belted blouse down over my flowy skirt, then proceeded to pull the rest of my supplies out of the fringed knapsack I carried.

In my line of work, I used all fortune-telling tools to help me interpret my visions. But wanting to keep the carnival readings as simple as possible, I’d chosen to read tarot cards this week.

I glanced around the park. Divinity was an old-fashioned town with antique streetlamps and big, old Victorian houses. Mini Central Park was just as quaint with streetlamps, park benches, a gazebo, and even a swan pond.

The other venders were setting up their tents filled with food, crafts, and games, and the carnival workers were giving a final inspection to the rides. The swans in the pond were putting up their usual fuss at having their harmonious habitat invaded, but at least their babies had grown a lot in the last two months.

The sewing circle had been kind enough to assign the gazebo to me. It was right in the middle of the park,
and it was big. I’d placed a rope across the entrance so only one person could enter at a time, affording us a bit of privacy for the readings, and I’d even hung my shingle from the roof.

SUNNY’S SANCTUARY.

Or, at least, I tried to hang my shingle. After it fell down five times, a tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman named Harry stopped and fixed it, giving me hope that this week might turn out okay after all. He seemed to be a really nice guy.

“Are you sure I can’t pay you or give you a free reading in thanks?” I said.

He hesitated as though he was considering it, but then he looked around a little anxiously as more people arrived to set up. “I don’t care much for crowds,” he responded, clearing his throat. “Besides, I’ve got a date with this fishing pole.” He smiled as he saluted me with his pole and then hurried away.

He’d said he was staying at Divine Inspiration—the charming inn where my parents always stayed, situated on the outskirts of town on Inspiration Lake. Oh, well, hopefully I’d see him again before he left and the rest of the carnival goers would be just as nice.

Normally, I did my readings from the comfort of Vicky, my distinguished, if slightly haunted, ancient Victorian house. But for the sake of the carnival, this gazebo would have to do.

The round wooden gazebo had a built-in table right in the center. I spread a lavender silk scarf over the top to protect the cards’ energy from undesirable vibrations.
Next, I placed elemental symbols around the table. I used a stone to represent the earth, a seashell to represent water, a candle to represent fire, and incense to represent the air. Finally, I turned on a soft-sounds-of-nature CD to try to drown out the noise from the carnival and help create a tranquil space.

“Have you seen Granny?” Trixie Irving, a thin, short seamstress with black-and-gray-streaked hair secured in a tight bun, approached me looking a bit frazzled. “I need help with the Sewing Sisters’ booth, and she’s nowhere in sight.”

“Sorry, Trixie, I have no clue. I was just wondering the same thing.”

“Well, okay then. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out myself. I swear, nothing is going right this morning. It’s like a bunch of gremlins are on the loose. Anything that can go wrong
is
going wrong. If I didn’t know better, I would think something was afoot.” She bustled off, shaking her head and wringing her hands as she talked to herself.

Quincy Turner, the person in charge of the Parks and Rec Program, caught my eye. He kicked the Animal Angels sign over as he walked by their booth. The owner, Ozzie Zuckerman, saw him and came running out, waving his fist in the air. The two argued rather heatedly, and then Quincy huffed off.

I frowned, hoping nothing really was “afoot.” Granny and the rest of the sisters had worked way too hard to make this carnival happen for someone to be sabotaging things. I waved off the notion, thinking I was just
looking for mischief given the recent chaos I’d been through. But all of that was behind me now. It was time I started looking for peace and tranquility.

Pulling out my favorite deck of tarot cards, I used fanning powder to keep the cards from sticking together. It was time consuming to individually cover each card with powder and then wipe them off, but it was well worth the effort. The powder made the cards feel wonderful in your hands. When I was finished, I rubbed essential oil on my hands to help invoke the senses of the person I was doing the reading for, and I set out a bowl of chocolates to share.

Now I just needed my first querent to arrive.

“Yoo-hoo. Are you open yet, darling?” a voice said from behind me only moments later.

I spun around in surprise, relieved to finally have my first bona fide customer. She had to be around Granny Gert’s age, but that was where the similarity stopped.

Granny had snow white hair that had been bleached at the age of sixteen from scarlet fever, false teeth, snappy brown eyes, and homemade aprons made from flour sacks. Having lived through the Depression, my granny was a firm believer in waste not, want not and reused everything, even though she had more money than she knew what to do with.

This woman had neatly styled strawberry blond hair, faded blue eyes, and all her own teeth by the look of it, not to mention expensive clothing. She was sharply dressed in tan slacks, a light blue blouse, with a cream-colored cardigan sweater draped loosely over her boney
shoulders. Even though the forecast predicted eighty degrees today, mornings were still chilly in New York during the month of June.

She kind of reminded me of what my mother might look like at that age, only this woman seemed a lot more pleasant already. I loved my mother, but she didn’t make life easy.

I pasted a smile on my face and unhooked the rope, wondering who this woman was. I hadn’t seen her around town before. “I’m absolutely open. Step right up, Miss…?”

“Atwater.” She nodded once, all proud-like. “Fiona Atwater in the flesh.”

“Well, I hope so.” I winked, liking her already. “We wouldn’t want to scare anyone away by you standing here without your flesh, now would we?”

She hooted with laughter and waved her hand at me. “Oh, go on with you. You’re Sunny, I take it?” She pointed to my sign.

“Sunshine Meadows in the flesh, but yes, please call me Sunny.”

“Wonderful! The name suits you. With your spiky blond hair and pale green eyes, you look like a big ball of sunshine, no makeup necessary. Aren’t you a lucky one?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I laughed. “Come on in and have a seat, Fiona, and we’ll get started.” My smile remained, and for the second time that morning, I felt like things were looking up.

She followed me and sat on the other side of the table. “Oh, what a lovely cat.” She reached out to pet Morty,
but he hissed at her, and she snatched her hand back. Then he leapt off the railing to prance over to the other side, refusing to look at either of us.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, then gave Morty a stern look that scolded,
Naughty boy.
Though I had to admit, my curiosity was piqued. Morty was finicky and didn’t warm up to many people easily, but I couldn’t imagine what he found so distasteful about Fiona.

“No worries.” She waved her hand. “I’m more of a dog lover. Maybe he can sense that.”

“I haven’t seen you around before. What brings you to Divinity?” I asked, trying to get to know her better and help her relax. I handed her a piece of chocolate.