Max shuffled several times with great deliberation, then hesitated before cutting the deck. With an almost defiant gesture, he quickly cut and leaned back in his seat.
Marta turned up the top ten cards, placing them in a pattern around the court card.
“What do you see?" he asked with a slight smile. "Anything different?"
“You're always too impatient. Don't rush me." Marta's face was anxious.
He leaned forward and scrutinized the cards. By now, he knew their characteristics as well as she did, but he couldn't interpret them.
“The Knight of Swords again—and the Chariot.”
“Hush, Max, the cards often repeat.”
Marta looked intently for several more minutes, then pointed to the first card and intoned, "The Five of Wands covers him. He is involved in competition and struggle.”
The film, Max thought. The card pictured five young men fighting. He'd be happy to have so few adversaries.
“The Four of Cups crosses him. He is weary and discontent. It is a time to rest in life's race.
“The Wheel of Fortune is beneath him. He has had much good fortune in his past. There have been times of plenty and times that were lean.”
1 know this. Max knew not to interrupt the reading. Get to the future, Marta.
“The Six of Cups is behind him, happy memories and possibly a friendship are moving out of his sphere, leaving a space for new ones.”
Or not, Max reflected pessimistically.
“The Nine of Pentacles crowns him. There will be wealth for him far ahead."
“Solitary wealth!" Max blurted out. "I know that card!"
“Shhhh." Marta reached over and stroked his hand. He slunk back against the chair cushions.
“The Queen of Wands is before him.”
Max's face brightened. It must be Evelyn. The Queen of Wands was a blonde. What other blondes were there? Or rather, other blondes who counted.
“The querent fears the Knight of Swords, the brown-haired youth who brings or takes away misfortune.
“The Two of Pentacles represents those around him. He is balancing many factors.”
A balancing act. His whole life was one long balancing act. The cards never lied, he thought.
“The Chariot carries his hopes. He would like to achieve greatness.”
Marta stopped speaking and looked at the last card, the outcome, with the director.
“The moon is strong tonight, Max. It was inevitable."
“And the other night, the same damn Moon card?" Marta reassembled the deck.
“I know what it means, remember. Perils, deception, and secret enemies.”
She sighed. "It depends on your question. The Moon can also illuminate your path and lead you away from danger."
“Do you want to know my question?" he asked. "I think I know, Max dear"
“I wonder if you do."
Four
It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.
The auditorium at Pritchard Junior High was packed and the highly partisan audience a bit more rowdy than was usual at Aleford public gatherings. At the moment, the stage was empty except for four gray metal folding chairs and a long table on which four glasses of water, a full pitcher, and a microphone had been placed.
Supporters of the three candidates waiting in the wings had had to choose between front-row seats and sitting en masse. The Alden Spaulding contingent opted for proximity and tried to snare as many as possible in the choice location close to the stage, elbowing their neighbors in a determined way. Penny Bartlett's fans went for unity and were occupying a block of rows under the balcony in the center of the room. The Heuneman forces had rallied undecidedly to the left-rear and front rows. Very few in attendance were uncommitted, and Faith wondered aloud to Tom why they had all bothered to come when everyone's minds were already made up.
“You shouldn't assume everyone is so firmly decided. I, for one, intend to listen with an open mind to all three candidates"—Tom paused and then just before his wife could jump on him, he continued—"then vote for Penny."
“You see, everyone is decided. We're only here because we're all afraid the opposition might outnumber us."
“Usually true, sweetheart, but I think in this election there are really quite a few people who have not made up their minds. If it was simply Penny against Alden, the choices would be clear, yet James is a dark horse. I don't know where he stands on a lot of things myself, and I've known him since I arrived in Aleford. Then, last but not least, let's not forget the entertainment value an event like this affords the town. Who could stay home, even to watch `Murphy Brown' when you have the opportunity to see your fellow citizens going at it hammer and tongs live?”
The candidates were taking their places. Peg Howard, the reference librarian at Aleford's Turner Memorial Library and president of the League, was calling the crowd to order. Whether it was because the audience was eager to hear the speakers or because of Peg's intrinsic association with silence, everyone immediately shut up.
“I'd like to welcome you all here tonight on behalf of the League of Women Voters and explain the format.
Each candidate will have seven minutes to introduce himself or herself, then I will ask several questions prepared by the League. After that, you will have an opportunity to ask questions from the floor, and finally each candidate will have five minutes for a closing statement. Please refrain from any applause or vocal demonstrations, as it merely wastes our time" Peg looked sternly at the rows directly in front of her. Faith had no doubt the librarian would move to eject any miscreant from the hall and take away his or her borrowing privileges for a week.
Alden Spaulding was making quite a show of cradling the cast on his left wrist with his right hand. Faith was sure the wrist wasn't broken and that he had somehow intimidated the doctor into putting a cast on in a bid for sympathy votes. Audrey's remarks had eliminated any possibility that Spaulding would sue the caterers, but with everything that had been happening lately, Faith was jumpy and would have preferred to see the wrist bare, or in an Ace bandage at most.
“Now, James Heuneman will begin as he drew the highest card.”
Peg passed the mike to James and he seemed a bit confused by its appearance for a moment. Admittedly, it was vintage, a twin of Edward R. Murrow's "London Calling" one. James managed to elicit a high-pitched squeal with his first word, then delivered a fairly bland speech about the importance of democracy in action and preserving the town for future generations. It took a total of three minutes. He handed the mike back to Peg with a smile of obvious relief.
“Thank you, Mr. Heuneman. Now Penelope Bartlett will present her remarks”
Penny took the mike easily, like the true club woman she was. Faith was surprised she wasn't wearing a hat and gloves, but she had put on one of her good flowered silk dresses and her handbag was sitting squarely between her feet, sensibly Cobbies-clad. She took the full seven minutes to touch on several subjects. A brief, and modest, description of her own qualifications—Wellesley '49, her volunteer work, years in Town Meeting—then proceeded to a description of the problems Aleford was facing with diminished resources and a population that was growing most rapidly in the over-sixty-five and school-age categories. "Two wonderfully entertaining groups," she declared, "but one like as not on a fixed income and the other with none. Which means we have to find ways to be fair to both. We'll need to reopen one of the schools we closed when enrollments were down, yet we can't let our older friends turn the heat too low or start eating one meal a day less as a result.”