I carried my dessert to a table by the bay window, glad for a chance to sit down. There was a sign in the window, its letters faded but readable: Fortunes Told Here. Well, I didn’t need a psychic to tell me I was headed for two tough weeks.
Why did Matt dislike me so much? I wondered. I had never had trouble making friends. It was as if he’d made up his mind about me before we’d met.
I took a forkful of cheesecake, then another. Stop trying to figure Matt out, I told myself. He’s a jerk.
“Everything okay?”
The round-faced man had come from behind the counter to wipe down tables. “If you don’t like your selection, help yourself to something else.”
I realized I must have been frowning.
“Whatever you want. On the house,” he added.
“Oh, no!” I said quickly. “It’s the best cheesecake I’ve ever had.”
He smiled. “And you know, it doesn’t have a single calorie-as long as you just look at it.” He laughed at his own joke and I laughed with him. “You’re not one of my regulars,” he observed. “Just visiting for the day?”
“For a couple weeks,” I replied. “I’m staying with my grandmother.”
“And who might that be?”
“Helen Barnes.”
He stopped wiping a table and gazed at me with surprise. I readied myself for another strange Scarborough story, but as it turned out, I was the cause for amazement.
“I didn’t know she had a granddaughter.”
“And two grandsons,” I said. “I mean in addition to Matt. I have two younger brothers.”
He straightened up. “Really! So you all must be Carolyn’s children.”
“Carolyn and Kent Tilby.” I worked hard to keep my voice from sounding brittle. It wasn’t this man’s fault that Grandmother never mentioned us.
“The Tilbys. They had a farm up Oyster Creek. But they passed away.”
I nodded.
“Carolyn and Kent hooked up in college. I remember now.
I just didn’t know they had kids. Well, welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you. Tell your folks Jamie says hi. Riley’s the last name, though nobody calls me anything but Jamie.”
He held out a damp hand and I shook it. “Back when they knew me, my father ran this place, and I had dreams bigger than puff pastry. But it turned out baking is what I do well,” he added.
“Really well,” I agreed, sliding another bite of cheesecake into my mouth. “Who does the fortune-telling?”
“My mother.” He glanced toward the window. “I should get rid of that sign. She’s getting too old. Of course she’s always happy to do a reading for a local. How about it? I’m sure Mama would be interested to meet you,” he added before I could refuse. “She’s known the Scarboroughs all her life. When she was a teenager, she worked for them, even lived at the house for a while.”
“She did?” His mother would probably know if there was anything to Alice’s story. “I’d love to have my fortune told.”
“I’ll call upstairs and ask if she’s free. We live right above here,” he added, pointing to the stairway that ran up the side wall of the cafe. “Makes it an easy commute to work.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
After finishing the cheesecake, I walked over to the bakery case to buy some pastries for Ginny and muffins for myself. I had just made my final selection when I heard Jamie’s voice behind me: “Here she is, Mama.”
I turned around. Mrs. Riley was a small woman with dark brown hair, my grandmother’s age or older.
“Mama, this is Megan Tuby.”
“Hi, Mrs. Riley.”
She looked at me but didn’t speak.
“This is Mrs. Barnes’s granddaughter,” Jamie added a moment later. “Carolyn and Kent’s girl,” he said, as if trying to nudge a response from her.
But she just stared at me. The hair dye she used made her face look pale. The lines around her mouth were deep.
“Hi,” I said again, a little louder this time, in case she had trouble hearing. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I held out my hand. She didn’t take it.
“Mama?” Jamie seemed as puzzled as I. “This is the young lady who wants her fortune told.”
She turned on him, her eyes blazing. “You were a fool to say I’d do it. I will not look into the cards for her.” Then she stalked across the room and up the steps, moving quickly for an old woman.
Jamie’s face turned red with embarrassment, “l-l don’t know what to say,” he stammered. “I’m very sorry, Megan.
She’s not always agreeable, and hasn’t been that well lately, but I didn’t expect this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured him. “She’s probably just tired. I’ll come back another time.”
He nodded, but still seemed concerned, whether for her feelings or mine, I wasn’t sure.
“Really,” I said, “it’s no big deal.”
I paid for my purchases and left, feeling like that woman in mythology-the one who had snakes for hair-Medusa. One look at me, and some people turned to stone.
Grandmother gave me permission to eat with Ginny that evening. We locked up the shop about six-thirty and went out to dinner. During the meal, Ginny asked if I’d be interested in filling in for her sick employee starting Monday.
I jumped at the chance. I loved all the activity of High Street and was relieved that someone in Wisteria wanted me around.
By the time I got home that evening, Matt had left for a school dance. I joined Grandmother in the library, eager to tell her what and who I had seen in town. But she responded so negatively to the first few things I told her, I gave up well before I got to the strange Mrs. Riley.
I crawled into bed that night exhausted. Even so, I tossed and turned. The tall clock on the stair landing chimed every quarter hour, telling me the amount of rest I didn’t get. A cold front was passing through. It rattled shutters and windowpanes and sent wind diving down the house’s chimneys. My bedroom door shook so hard it sounded as if someone was trying to get in. I got up and latched it firmly.
Finally I drifted into sleep.
It was some time later, when the rough weather had settled down to an eerie silence, that I again became aware of my surroundings. The voice awakened me.
“My name is Avril.”
My eyes flew open and I glanced around the room. The whisper lacked the warmth of a human voice. I wasn’t sure if it was inside my head or out. I lay as still as possible, listening, my skin prickling.
“My name is Avril.”
I sat up and pulled the quilt around me. My skin felt as if it were crawling off my bones. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
I gazed at the bedroom door, waiting for something to happen, the knob to turn, the whisperer to whisper again. My breath felt trapped inside my chest, my heart pounded in my ears.
You’ve got a choice, I told myself. You can cower here for the rest of the night, or you can prove that it was nothing but a voice in a dream, your imagination playing tricks.
I climbed out of bed, then tiptoed to the door. Taking a deep breath, I cracked it slowly, then yanked it wide open.
No one. Nothing. Just the tick tock tick of the big clock. I walked quietly into the hall. The clock’s white face showed a few minutes after one.
Matt’s door was closed, as was Grandmother’s-which didn’t mean they were actually in their rooms. With the house’s interconnecting chimneys and old heating system, it would be easy enough to whisper something downstairs so it could be heard upstairs. Was Matt having a little fun with me?
I walked quickly toward the hall window to check for his Jeep; he was home. Still, playing ghost seemed like too much trouble for him. Till now, his way of dealing with me was to ignore me and hope I went away.