And that’s what Robin had provided.
She did an “other” reading for Ron that night, laying the spread out on the dining room table after he had gone to bed. It had been a long while since she’d done a reading for him — since before she found out about the affair, in fact. It wasn’t out of lack of interest, but rather out of boredom: His cards were always the same. Until they revealed an impending affair, that was. But even that had fallen within the realm of her expectations. The King of Pentacles reversed was known for his casual infidelities. If it hadn’t been Julie, it would have been someone else. Or so she had thought.
The cards that she turned over on the dining room table that night said otherwise.
As she laid them out on the black silk square she used for the purpose, her heart grew cold. There was more of the same: the sharp business practices, the tightness with money, the impulse to control, along with the recent addition of the infidelity. But the picture the cards now painted was of a serious romance, not a casual fling. Julie was the love of his life; it was as clear as day. His current reservations — the reservations that Robin had helped bring to the forefront of his attention — were there, but they were minor compared to the strength of his love. He was going to marry her; there was going to be a wedding. Robin and the boys would be cast off. They were there, but they were sitting squarely in his past, relegated to the sideline of his life. There would even be another child — with her.
Why hadn’t she read Ron’s cards sooner? She of all people should have checked up on what was going on. How could she have miscalculated so badly?
But it wasn’t too late. The fate predicted by the cards wasn’t immutable, as she well knew. It was merely a seed that could grow into an event. But in order for a seed to grow, it needed proper conditions: water and sunshine and fertile soil.
All of which were going to be denied.
It was the sixth week, the week that Robin had thought would be the last of her campaign. Now it was merely a way station somewhere in the middle. She had the luxury of time: that, Ron’s cards had shown her. It would take him awhile to adjust to the idea of leaving his wife and perhaps his job, during which time she would have the opportunity to thwart the events that had been predicted in the cards. She was getting to be an old pro at deceit herself now, and her new scheme would be even more elegant than the last. It had to be — the stakes were greater.
The script for week six remained the same as originally planned; it was the next week that she would start turning up the heat. The cards were arranged in a predetermined order in the cubby. The card in the position for approaching influence was the Four of Cups, which showed a young man who is indifferent to the cup of love being offered him. The card in the position for the immediate future was the Six of Cups, which showed a man walking away from overturned cups, which signified rejected love. This was the card Julie had been so afraid of in her first reading about the affair. And the outcome card was the Three of Swords, which showed three swords piercing a giant red heart.
Julie burst into tears when Robin threw the outcome card.
“I think you already have a pretty good idea of the meaning of this spread,” Robin said, trying to sound sympathetic. “As you can see, the Lovers has moved into the recent-past position.” She pointed to the Five of Cups. “This card shows that your lover has become indifferent to you. He’s going to walk away, if he hasn’t already.”
“He canceled our date for this weekend,” Julie said. “He didn’t give an explanation.”
She looked up at Robin. “But why?” she wailed. “Everything was going so well. He even gave me a ring. Is it the wife? I don’t see how she could have found out. Besides, he was planning to tell her anyway. I don’t think it would matter now if she found out.”
“No, it’s not the wife,” Robin replied. She was feeling the sense of elation that comes from having mastered a difficult task; she was at the top of her form.
“What then?” Julie asked.
“It’s his job. The King of Pentacles is very materialistic. He’s realized that in leaving his wife to marry you, he would be jeopardizing the position that he’s worked so hard to achieve.” She pointed to the Three of Swords. “He doesn’t feel as if he has any alternative, even though he knows he’s going to break your heart.”
“But he knew he’d probably have to leave his job,” Julie protested. “We already talked about that. He’s ready to try something new. There are lots of opportunities out there for a man with his background.” She went on, “He even said he didn’t care about material things. It was in a letter: ‘All the material things are nothing... ’ ”
Robin arched a sceptical eyebrow.
“ ‘...compared with our love.’ ”
Robin cut her off. Zelda clearly didn’t have her husband’s skill with words. “It’s not just his job,” she continued. “It’s a whole lifestyle: the house, the country club, the Caribbean vacations — none of which he’d be able to afford if he has to divide his assets with his wife. Believe me, this is not a man who’s going to move with you to New England to run a B and B, no matter what he might have said in a love letter.”
Julie stared at her in shock and disbelief.
Looking up, Robin sliced a finger across her neck. “Three weeks and you’re history.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Then Julie spoke: “I thought it was going to be different this time.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her tone despondent. She started sobbing — deep, lurching sobs.
“Much as I hate to say it, there are no accidents,” Robin told her. It was a phrase she had used often — one whose meaning Julie knew very well.
Robin passed her the box of tissues.
Phase II went into effect the next week. Robin called it her Gaslight campaign, after the old movie with Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer. Its aim was nothing less than the destruction of the Tower, which had been the outcome card in Julie’s initial reading about the affair. The heartbreak remained. There was depression and loneliness. The central card was the Nine of Swords, which showed a woman sitting up in bed, crying. “It depicts the dark night of the soul,” she told Julie. And there was worse to come: Julie would have a car accident by the time the week was out. Nothing serious: a fender bender. But expensive to fix. Robin had no trouble arranging this in the parking lot at the strip mall out on the highway. Especially with her new SUV, which grossly outweighed Julie’s compact. She simply backed into the door while Julie was in the drugstore, crumpling it like a piece of cardboard. Nobody was around to notice; Robin had made certain of that.
The stolen pocketbook, which was to be the next week’s woe, took a little more finesse to pull off. Robin didn’t want to be arrested for purse snatching. But Julie turned out to be even more careless than Robin had thought, which might have been due to her state of mind. After removing her money, credit cards, and driver’s license in order to maximize the hassle factor, she tossed the purse into the nearest mailbox. The third week was the hate letters, crazy and illiterate, which Robin constructed out of letters and words that she clipped from newspapers and magazines, like the letters sent by the psychopathic creeps in suspense thrillers.