40
Jack didn’t want me buying this and I guaranteed we’d sell it,” Celeste said, hands on her hips. “If we don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it. So if a customer asks for suggestions, this is your go-to.”
Gemma helped Celeste move the carved Louis XV mirror onto the sales floor. For the first time all season, the humidity forced Celeste to close the front door and turn on the air conditioner. When she turned around, she did a double take, looking at Gemma’s necklace. “That’s lovely,” she said.
Gemma touched the copper butterfly hanging from her necklace. The New York Times photographers had shown up that morning for their scheduled shoot, and she’d made sure to wear her latest piece.
“Thanks,” Gemma said. “I found it at the first estate sale you took me to.”
“Very creative.”
“I was thinking . . . maybe I could sell them in the store?”
“Sell what in the store?”
“My jewelry. Maybe a small table display near the counter?”
“But it’s an antiques store.”
“Yes . . . I know. But every charm is repurposed from an antique or a collectible. The only things that are new are the necklace and bracelet chains I’ve designed for them to clip onto.” She held out her wrist.
“I’ve made a point of not selling jewelry,” Celeste said, crossing her arms. “It’s nothing personal. Your pieces are beautiful. It’s just not the business I want to be in.”
The front door opened, letting in a gust of damp air and Elodie.
“Can I interest you in a Louis XV mirror?” Celeste said cheekily.
“No. The only thing I’m interested in is your signatures on this contract.” She slammed a document down on the counter.
Celeste shook her head. “Do you have to nag me about this every day?”
“That’s the plan. There’s one way to put an end to it: just sign.”
“I’m going to get my cards read later today. Let me check and see what the climate is for major decisions. I told you I wanted to wait until Mercury—”
“And I’m telling you, this can’t wait another day. Whitmore’s wants to announce the auction. And if we can’t move forward because you two are holding it up, I’m sure they’d be happy to announce that to the press instead. So, if you want that kind of attention, Celeste—by all means keep holding me up. And, Gemma, I’m sure it will be great for your jewelry career to be the one denying the world a chance to bid on some of the world’s most important pieces.”
Elodie turned on her heels and stormed out, the contract still on the counter.
“Please, don’t sign that,” Gemma said. “She’s up to something.”
“Oh, Gemma,” Celeste said with a sigh. “You need to let go of that diamond. It’s toxic.”
Gemma shook her head, emotion welling in her chest. “Not to me it’s not.”
Celeste’s expression softened. She moved closer and put an arm around her niece’s shoulders. “I think we need to pay a visit to Maud.”
Celeste closed the shop with a handwritten note taped to the door: “We’re off scouting more treasures for you. Be back soon!”
“Can you really leave?” Gemma said, following her to the street.
“In the beginning, when it was just Jack and me, we had to close down to go to estate sales or do errands.”
Gemma had noticed that it wasn’t uncommon in town to, say, stop by a bakery in the middle of the afternoon only to find a handwritten note from the proprietor reading, “Closed for a mental health day.”
“And this is important,” Celeste said. “You need to learn to let go of things that are clogging your aura.”
“Okay. But for the record: I don’t believe in this sort of thing.”
Maud met them in the garden behind her house.
“Welcome, ladies. Who’s going first?”
“She is,” Celeste and Gemma said at the same time.
“Don’t be shy,” Maud said to Gemma. “I promise I don’t bite. Have you had your cards read before?”
“No,” Gemma said, glancing at Celeste.
“Come,” Maud said, leading them to a small table and a set of wooden chaise lounges with purple cushions. “Tarot cards have been used since the Middle Ages as a tool for divination and self-discovery. Now, the clearer your intentions, the more accurate my reading will be. So I ask that you hold a question in your mind.”
“I don’t really have a question,” she said nervously, again glancing at Celeste.
“Not to be too leading here,” Celeste said, “but I know Gemma is interested in the comings and goings of a certain object, and perhaps needs to know if she can let this object go.”
Maud focused her sharp eyes on Gemma. “Is this accurate?”
“I guess?” In reality, there was nothing this woman could say that would make her feel better about the disappearance of her mother’s engagement ring. And yet, she felt anticipation as Maud slid the deck of cards across the table and instructed her to cut it three times. Gemma hadn’t held a deck of cards since she was a teenager and played gin with her grandfather.
“Now, think about the object in question.”
Gemma envisioned the diamond ring. She focused at first on the gem itself, the remarkable shade of petal pink that appeared lit from within. The name Electric Rose truly captured it. She remembered how it had looked on her mother’s slender hand, the stone covering half her knuckle. And finally, she let herself remember trying it on, the way it made her feel pretty, and special, and most of all, close to the mother she adored.
“Now, halve the deck, and draw three cards one at a time, placing each facedown.”
Gemma followed the instructions. Her hand felt shaky as she pulled the first card. When the three were set out before her, Maud turned them over one at a time. She contemplated them for a few moments before looking up at Gemma. “Well, I don’t see anything here about an object. Your first card here, the Sun, suggests good fortune. Your next card, the World, indicates a major change and the finding of a truth. Your final card is the Lovers. What I see clearly in this is that you have either found your true love or are about to very soon.”
“What?” That was the last thing she expected to hear.
“Oh! That young man who visited you in the shop,” Celeste said.
No way. She didn’t believe in any of this. But she couldn’t help but note that while Celeste tried to change the subject, Maud did not advise her to forget about the diamond.
And she wouldn’t.