There was never any question but that Georgia would totally ignore Matt’s demand that she pack up and leave.
She ignored him early the next morning, when she awoke to her second day at Pumpkin Hill, determined to finish cleaning up the mess in the garden, and she ignored him as she sat that night in his favorite chair and read his aunt’s books on fortune-telling.
She ignored him again on Tuesday when she sat on the back step, Aunt Hope’s book on fortune-telling in one hand and her teacup in the other, trying to decipher the little blobs of tea leaves left behind in the bottom of her cup. And she ignored him later that day when she pushed aside the furniture in the living room in the hopes of carving out a space big enough for dancing and was disappointed that there was only sufficient room for some very limited exercise.
She was still ignoring him on Wednesday when, determined to find a place large enough in which she could really dance, she dragged first the broom, then the vacuum cleaner up to the second floor of the barn to clear away the cobwebs and the many years of ancient dust from the floor. It had taken her all morning, but by one o’clock in the afternoon, the old hardwood floor had been thoroughly cleaned as it had never been cleaned before. She had even brought up a wet mop, making countless trips back to the first floor for clean water. When she had finished and the floor had dried, she walked the length and width of it, searching for splinters and other such hazards. Mentally noting those spots best avoided, she lugged the bucket back down the steps for the last time, and went off in search of her portable tape player and her box of music tapes.
Later, dressed in pale pink tights and leotard, dark green leg warmers, and pink leather ballet shoes, her equipment tucked into Mrs. Colson’s picnic basket for easy toting and her pointe shoes slung over one shoulder, she had marched defiantly across the farmyard to the barn.
Just let him try to run me off.
In her head the music she had selected was already playing as she all but ran up the steps to the second floor. She went to the outlet she’d located earlier and plugged in the tape deck, but did not turn it on. There was one more thing to be tended to.
She stood in the middle of the floor, contemplating the fact that there was no barre. Well, then, she’d use a chair. Off she went to the house where she grabbed one from the kitchen and carried it over her head up to the second floor of the barn. After setting the chair on the floor near the window, where the light was best, she turned on the tape, straightened her shoulders, and, holding on to the back of the chair, began her warm-up exercises at the makeshift barre. Starting with plies—leg bends—to stretch all of the leg muscles, she ran through what had been for years her normal routine. First demi-pliés—the knees bent halfway; then grand plies—the knees completely bent; through each of the five classic ballet positions, first on one side, then turning the other side to her “barre” to repeat all of the exercises. Then on to the second set of exercises, those intended to limber the hip joints, improve turn-out, and stretch the calf muscles. Finally, on to the last of the barre exercises, ending with a grand écart—a split so complete that the entire length of both legs touched the floor.
Pausing only long enough to change the tape, Georgia brushed the beads of perspiration from her brow and moved to the center of the room, where she began the progression of floor exercises—from port de bras en fondu through saut de chats and pirouettes—pausing only long enough to change the tape. When the floor exercises were completed, she sat on the chair and peeled off the flat pink leather shoes and replaced them with worn satin pointe shoes, which she tied around her ankles with satin ribbons that had begun to fray.
Returning to the chair, she worked without music, then turned back to the room to complete her round of exercises, the stiffness of the toes of the shoes welcomed against the calluses she had long ago formed. She worked her way across the floor in a series of movements intended to move a dancer across a stage. When she had gone as far as the outside wall, she turned around and went back across the floor again, repeating the movements over and over. When her calf muscles had begun to plead no more, she grinned and granted herself a ten minute break. She lifted the lid of the picnic basket and brought out a bottle of water, from which she drank slowly.
It felt so good to work. Even if no one ever saw her dance again, it felt so good to go through the steps, to work her body the way it had been trained to work. She straddled the chair and sipped at the water, her muscles, unused as of late, springing back to life to complain loudly. She would ache tomorrow, she knew, but she shrugged it off. It was her own fault for not having kept up with her exercises. Well, she would get back into shape and she would stay in shape.
Every day, she promised herself. I will do this every day.
As if to test her resolve, she pulled the chair to one side of the room and set the bottle on it. Turning to the basket, she rummaged for the tape she wanted, then slipped it into the player and turned up the volume.
If she was going to dance, she would dance only to her favorite music. She would dance all of those roles she would never get to dance on stage, and it would not matter that no one but she would know that she had mastered every step. She would dance to please herself, for the sheer joy of it, and there would be no one to say that she was not good enough; no one to judge her. She could be Giselle, she could be Columbine, she could be Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty. She knew all of the classic ballets by heart, though she had never had an opportunity to dance the leads. Now she would.
Today, however, called for impromptu dance. She would dance from her heart. The tape she had selected was a mixed collection of Chopin’s works that she had recorded herself from several longer tapes. Georgia had always felt the composer’s piano pieces—much of it written during his affair with a popular romance novelist of the day, George Sand—reflected both the romance and the heartbreak of his life, the perfect thing for impromptu dance. The lively strains of the Mazurka in B Major was a good warm-up number, and she followed it with the Waltz in C Sharp Minor, swirling and leaping and gliding across the old pine floor of the barn. She had just finished a labored routine to her favorite Ballade in G Minor, when unexpected applause from the top of the steps startled her.
“Wonderful! Oh, Georgia, that was so wonderful!” Laura cried. “I knew you were a professional dancer, but I had no idea of how ... well, incredibly talented a dancer you are!”
“Aunt Georgia, you are a real ballerina!” An awestruck Ally pointed to Georgia’s feet, which were still poised on their toes. “Can you teach me to do that?” Ally spun around awkwardly, demonstrating a jump. “I want to dance like that, too!”
“I had no idea I had an audience.” Georgia blushed, disturbed to find that she had not been alone after all.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to intrude or to spy on you. We just followed the music....” Laura realized, too late, that for Georgia, the afternoon’s dance had been something more than mere exercise.
“It’s okay. I was just finishing up.”
“Oh, I wish I had known you were going to dance,” Ally pouted. “I could have danced, too.”
“Next time, bring your ballet slippers, and we will dance together,” Georgia told her.
“Can I come tomorrow?”
“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” Georgia laughed.
Ally’s face fell.
“Then how ’bout Saturday?” She brightened again. “I don’t have school on Saturday.”
“I think you should ask your mom if she’d be willing to drive you out here again on Saturday.” Georgia suggested.
“I don’t mind the drive at all, but, Georgia, are you sure you want to?” Laura asked.
“I’d be delighted to teach her. It will be fun for both of us.”
“Can I bring Samantha, too?” Ally asked.
“Who is Samantha?” Georgia sat on the floor and began to untie her shoes.
“She’s my friend. She used to take dancing lessons with me until our teacher stopped.”
“Sure.” Georgia shrugged. “The more the merrier.”
“Yippee! This will be fun! Wait till I tell everyone that I get to take dance lessons again!” Ally jumped up and down.
Georgia laughed. “Well, keep in mind that this is a pretty makeshift arrangement here, kiddo.”
“That’s okay. It will be fun anyway.” The issue of her dancing lesson having been resolved, Ally proceeded on to the next item of business. “Can I go down to the pond now and watch the ducks?”
“Sure. We’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Ally raced down the steps and slammed the barn door behind her.
“Here, I’ll get that for you.” Laura grabbed the chair and lifted it with one hand. “What else do you need help with?”
“Nothing, really.” Georgia returned the tape player and her pointe shoes to the picnic basket. “If we can just take a minute to stop at the house, I’ll put sneakers on.” She pointed down to the thin leather ballet slippers on her feet. “These weren’t made for traipsing through fields.”
Laura paused at the top of the steps and looked back at the wide expanse of room behind her. “What a great place to dance. Too bad the lighting isn’t a little better.”
“The lighting’s not too bad close to the window,” Georgia noted. “A few skylights would make it better; a few fluorescents would make it better yet.” She grinned and added, “Of course, a smoother floor would be nice—I’m going to be digging splinters out of my toes for the rest of the week, despite my efforts to avoid the rough spots. But that’s a small price to pay to have such a wonderful place to dance in.”
They walked down the steps, side by side. When they reached the door, Laura pushed it open and allowed Georgia to pass through.
“Do you have everything?” Laura paused and asked.
“Yes,” Georgia replied.
“Then I’ll lock up now, so that I don’t forget later.” Laura set the chair on the ground and padlocked the door.
“So, how was your day?” Laura asked as they walked toward the farmhouse.
“Ah, I get it.” A smile spread across Georgia’s face. “Thank you, Laura, but it wasn’t necessary.”
“What wasn’t necessary?”
“You didn’t have to drive all the way out here to check up on me. I can handle your brother.”
Laura had all intentions of pretending that she hadn’t realized that it was Wednesday—the same Wednesday that Matt had demanded Georgia be gone by—but knowing that Georgia was already on to her, she dropped the pretense. “I was hoping you wouldn’t hear from Matt.”
“And I haven’t,” Georgia assured her.
“I’m sorry that he’s being so unreasonable ... embarrassed that he’s been so rude to you—” Laura’s cheeks flushed red. “I think at the heart of it is that he just feels really threatened right now, by Delia, by you ...”
“I can understand him feeling threatened by Delia, because I’m sure he feels protective of his mother. Your mother. But by me? I’m hardly a threat to anyone.”
“I think he’s afraid of all of you. Zoey, Nick ...”
“You mean your new siblings, collectively.” Georgia nodded slowly. “A whole new family that doesn’t include him.”
“Matt and I were always close—”
“And now he’s afraid he’ll lose you; that you have other sisters, another brother. But he has only you. I can understand why he’d feel jealous.”
“I don’t really think it’s jealousy.” Laura shook her head. “In spite of his actions, Matt doesn’t have much of a mean or jealous streak. I think he’s just so scared that what little family he has left will be taken from him. He came to us from a really bad place when he was just a little boy, Georgia. I think he’s just trying to keep you away so that he doesn’t have to deal with it. Regardless of whatever else he says ...”
“What else does he say?”
“He thinks that—well, that maybe, after a time—you and Delia and everyone will just go on back to your lives before ...” she hesitated.
“Before Mother found you?”
Laura nodded.
“That’s so incredibly stupid. That anyone would think—” She shook her head in disbelief. “Laura, you don’t believe—”
“Not for a second. Matt just thinks I should take more time to get to know everyone.”
“I’m so sorry for him. Sorry that he feels so threatened. It must be a very uncomfortable place to be in, where he is right now. Maybe in time he’ll see that we’re not trying to take you and Ally from him. I understand why he doesn’t want me here, and if it would make things easier for you, I’ll leave. Do you want me to leave, Laura?”
“Absolutely not.” Laura shook her head. “Matt will come around in time. He’s going to have to.”
“Well, then, that pretty much settles it.” Georgia took Laura’s arm as they approached the back porch. “And I’m glad. I don’t want to leave, Laura; I like it here. I liked it here the very first time I pulled up and parked my Jeep right over there by the barn. I like it more every day. There’s something about Pumpkin Hill that is just peaceful and ... I think comforting is the word I’m looking for. I feel comforted here. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“That’s Pumpkin Hill.” Laura nodded vigorously. “I’ve always felt that way about coming here. So does Matt. It’s where we’ve always come to lick our wounds and think things through. It’s always been here when we’ve needed it, and—hey,” Laura stopped at the kitchen table and picked up the book Georgia had left there. “Aunt Hope’s book on reading tea leaves! Don’t tell me you’ve been digging into this.”
Georgia laughed. “I thought I’d try to learn a new skill while I was here.”
“Have you?”
“I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.” Georgia picked up the cup in which she’d had her morning tea and tilted it sideways. “The problem is acclimating your eyes to seeing little tiny shapes or pictures in the leaves around the sides and bottoms of the cup. You sort of have to train yourself to see something more than just a blob of tea leaves.”
“What do you suppose that is supposed to be?” Laura peered inside the cup and pointed to some leaves that were stuck near the rim opposite the handle.
“I think it sort of looks like a pipe.”
“Like a pipe you would smoke?” Laura turned the cup around to get a different perspective. “You know, I think you’re right. It does look like a pipe.”
“Which is a good thing.” Georgia grinned. “According to your aunt’s book, a pipe signifies the need to take a break; to step back and contemplate your position in life and to regroup.”
“Why, that’s incredible!” Laura exclaimed. “That’s exactly what you are doing!”
“I laughed out loud when I read that this morning. I know it’s just a coincidence—I mean, I guess you could interpret the pattern of the leaves in different ways, though the book tells you to go with your first impression. My first impression was of a pipe. We’ll have tea later and maybe I can take a look and see what’s in your future.”
“I’m not sure that I want to know.” Laura looked wary.
“Well, since I am so new at this, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to see anything at all, but I’ll try. It’s kind of fun—a sort of harmless game. I’ve been amusing myself for the past few nights, reading your aunt’s notes.”
“Aunt Hope had notes on reading tea leaves?”
“Several pages of them.” Georgia nodded. “She kept a record of what she must have considered noteworthy or significant readings. Oh, and she was apparently interested in reading about some type of magic that had to do with plants, too.”
“What do you mean, magic?” Laura frowned.
“I found a journal on one of the shelves in the living room. In it is a detailed list of which plants are believed by some to have whatever different magical properties.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Laura waved away the thought. “Why, my aunt was the most practical, no-nonsense, both feet on the floor woman you’d have ever met. The book must have belonged to someone else....”
“Sure. I’ll bet there were lots of women living around O’Hearn named Hope Evans Carter.” Georgia nodded.
“Her name is in the book?”
“And the writing is in the same hand as the notes she made on tea leaves.”
“How very odd.” Laura shook her head. “I just can’t see Aunt Hope believing in magic. She never gave us a clue....”
“Oh, I don’t know that she necessarily believed in magic. My overall impression from reading through the notes was that she was reading more out of curiosity, that it may have been something she mostly entertained herself with.”
“That would make more sense. I know she did experiment with growing unusual plants. Some she referred to as heirloom plants. Old varieties that you don’t see so much anymore. She kept the seeds in little envelopes in her desk. But I never heard her mention anything about any of them being capable of magic.”
“I think she merely amused herself with the possibilities.” Georgia grinned and pointed to the small bundle of dried plant material that was nailed to the wall. “That, for example, is dried aloe. Her book said it drives away evil and brings good luck.”
“How can you tell what that is? It’s dried beyond recognition.”
“Because in her journal, she talks about replacing the dill that had hung over the back door with aloe. I guess she decided aloe had stronger powers. Or maybe she used different plants for different seasons. And look, here—” Georgia opened the pantry closet and took out a small glass jar containing something that looked like dried grain. “Alfalfa.”
Laura looked at her blankly.
“You put it in the pantry to protect from poverty.”
“I suppose that was in the journal, too?”
“Page thirty-two.” Georgia nodded.
“Well, this all sounds more like old wives’ tales than magic potions.”
“Oh, she had all sorts of recipes for potions, and some very detailed descriptions of spells. Some of which she apparently had tried out just for fun, judging from her little comments about what worked and what didn’t.”
“For pity’s sake, Georgia, don’t let Ally hear about it. That’s all we need is for her to decide that her great-aunt was a witch.” Laura grimaced.
“It’s really an interesting book, Laura. Do you know, for example, that if you want to attract elves to your garden, you should grow rosemary?”
“That’s it. I don’t want to hear another word.” Laura pushed Georgia toward the back door. “Let’s go get Ally and we’ll come back and have our tea. No more talk of spells or magic. Fairies, of all things!”
“Oh, no, I said elves,” Georgia giggled. “Now, if it’s fairies you want, you have to plant primroses. Preferably blue and red.”
“Out.” Laura laughed and followed Georgia down the back steps.
“Oh, Laura, I almost forgot—” Georgia paused midway across the yard—“I want you to look at the garden.”
They leaned over the fence. In the distance, geese were squabbling loudly.
“What am I looking at?” Laura asked.
“See the holes in the ground?” Georgia pointed toward the ground. “They weren’t there yesterday. I spent part of the afternoon cleaning up these rows, and this morning, there were all those holes in the ground.”
“It almost looks as if someone or something was digging around, looking for something.” Laura frowned.
“Every day there’s something else, some other evidence that someone’s been poking around at night. But I never hear a sound. And for someone to sneak past a light sleeper like me is a real feat.”
“Did you call Chief Monroe?”
“I’ve called him just about every day that I’ve been here. He doesn’t even bother to come out anymore. He just adds each new complaint to his list. He’s pretty sure it’s some kind of animal, but I can’t imagine what.”
“Maybe I should have Matt leave Artie here for a few days....”
“Oh, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m sure that Matt will be more than happy to send his dog here to protect me.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “Fat chance.”
“Sorry. For a moment I forgot what a bozo my brother is sometimes.” Laura turned back to the garden. “Maybe if you tied the gate closed with a really intricate knot it will deter whatever’s doing this from coming back. Though what they could possibly be coming back for is a mystery to me.”
“Mommy! Aunt Georgia!” Ally came racing around the side of the old chicken house. “I saw a fox! A red fox! He was out in the field!”
“And he’s probably halfway to Cambridge by now,” Laura told her.
“No! He’s not. He went toward the woods. I didn’t scare him, honest. He was creeping toward the pond—” Ally’s eyes were round as dinner plates and almost as large—“’cause there were ducks on the bank. Near the cattails. And then some of the geese spied him, and they all started yelling at him, and he ran away. But I didn’t chase him. He didn’t see me.”
“Ah, I thought I heard the geese scolding a few minutes ago. I guess he was out looking for an early dinner.”
“Not so very early,” Georgia turned Laura’s wrist to check the time. “Why not stay and have dinner with me? Unless you are needed at the inn.”
“Actually, right now we have only Gordon Chandler and two people who are apparently going to be working with him. I’m sure that Jody can take care of the three of them, if, in fact, they are dining in tonight. Let’s go inside and I’ll give her a call. I’m sure she would appreciate one unexpected night off this week.”
“What are you making for dinner, Aunt Georgia?” Ally asked.
“I was planning on making a mushroom and broccoli stir-fry. Do you think you might like that?”
“Do you like broccoli?” Georgia asked.
Ally nodded.
“Do you like mushrooms?”
“Sometimes. If they don’t have those little dark spots on them.”
“I’ll tell you what.” Georgia took a bag of mushrooms from the refrigerator and handed it to her niece. “You go through this bag, and you pick out the mushrooms you would like me to use. I will need about eight of them, so you count them out and line them up on the counter there for me.”
“Okay,” Ally brightened, “but I can count past eight.”
“I thought you could. But tonight, we only need eight mushrooms.” Georgia ducked back into the refrigerator to gather carrots, onion, and broccoli, then turned to Laura and asked, “Would you like that tea now?”
“Yes.” Laura nodded.
Georgia placed a pot of water on the stove to boil for the Chinese noodles that would accompany her stir-fry, then set about chopping vegetables while Laura put water on for tea.
“I read someplace that there are different kinds of vegetarians. What kind of vegetarian are you?” Laura asked as she munched on a piece of celery.
“I’m a lacto-ovo, meaning I do eat cheese and other dairy products and I also eat eggs. And on very rare occasions, I have been known to break down and have a piece of fish. Lactos, on the other hand, don’t eat eggs, and vegans don’t eat anything that has animal origins.”
“Why did you become a vegetarian?”
Georgia shrugged and tossed the vegetables into the electric wok she’d brought with her and had installed on the counter. “It just seemed healthier to me. People do it for all different reasons. Plus after you do it for a while, meat loses its appeal.”
“Matt always talks about it, but I think he’s too lazy. He says it bothers him to heal animals during the day, and then eat animals at night, but that cooking vegetarian meals is too complicated.”
Georgia laughed. “I hear people say that all the time. It really isn’t any more or any less complicated. It’s just a matter of rethinking how you eat and how you cook.”
The tea kettle screamed and Laura turned off the burner and took down two cups.
“You know, you and Matt really have a lot in common,” Laura mused.
“Oh, I’m sure we do,” Georgia said dryly.
“No, really. You both respect animals, you both love Pumpkin Hill ...”
“And we both love you and Ally. And that’s about it. Now, let’s get dinner on the table and then after we eat, we’ll read our tea leaves and see if there’s a tall dark stranger in either of our futures....”
Dinner was delicious. Even Ally had cleaned her plate. Before the meal was over, Laura had asked Georgia to jot down a few of her recipes for Jody, so that the inn could expand its vegetarian offerings to its guests. Dessert was pound cake served with plums that had been put up by Hope the year before, and warmed on the stove.
“Okay, Laura. Let’s take a look at that cup.” Georgia said after the dessert plates had been cleared.
“Can you see anything?” Laura held the cup on its side for Georgia to take a look.
“Not so fast. There’s a ritual involved here. I’m too much of a novice to take short cuts.” Georgia laughed. “Ah, good, you didn’t drink it all.”
“No, there’s still a little left in the bottom. I remember that my aunt always said you had to have enough tea left to move the leaves around the cup.”
Georgia nodded. “I think that’s enough. That looks like about a tablespoon, and that’s what the book says you’re supposed to have. Now, you rotate the cup three times, holding the handle in your left hand.”
“Clockwise or counter-clockwise?” Laura asked. “I forget, but I do remember that it made a difference. Men turn the cup one way, women turn it the other.”
“Ummm, I think counter-clockwise.” Georgia thought for a minute. “Yes, that’s it. Men turn the cup clockwise, women counter-clockwise. Go head, turn it.”
“Three times?”
“Right.” Georgia nodded. “Okay, that’s three. Now, let’s see what kind of patterns you have there....”
Georgia lowered her head and peered inside the cup. “Now, the handle represents you, as the person whose leaves are being read.”
“I remember that, too, from watching Aunt Hope read.” Laura nodded. “She always said that the symbols nearest the handle were the most important or the most immediate.” Laura pointed into the cup and said, “And those little dots ... the tiny little pieces of tea leaves ... I think they meant that whatever symbol they are closest to is the most important.”
“Maybe not the most important symbol,” Georgia murmured as she turned the cup this way and that, “but they add emphasis to the meaning of that symbol.”
“Do you see anything?” Laura frowned.
“I do. I’ll tell you what symbols I see, then we’ll go to Hope’s book and look up what they mean.”
Georgia pondered the dark flakes on the inside of the cup, then leaned toward Laura and said, “Here, near the rim—also significant, because the closer to the rim, the stronger the message is said to be—here’s a triangular shape. My first thought was a pyramid, so that’s what we’ll call it.”
“Is there a difference between calling something a triangle and calling it a pyramid?”
Georgia frowned. “I don’t know. I just know that the book says go with your first impression, and pyramid, not triangle, is what came into my mind. And there are lots of little dots nearby, so it must be important, whatever it means. And down there,” Georgia pointed to the bottom of the cup, “there is an odd shape ... I don’t know, but it kind of looks like a horse’s head to me.”
She held the cup up for Laura to take a look.
Laura nodded. “Yes, I can sort of see a horse’s head, too. Okay, we’ll call it that. What are those other little things?”
Georgia turned the cup around several more times, looking at the patterns from different angles, then shook her head. “I’m not getting any other impressions. Just the pyramid and the horse’s head.”
“Okay. Let’s look those two things up.”
Georgia flipped through Hope’s handwritten pages of notes, then stopped and smiled and said, “Oh! Good news, Laura. The horse’s head means that a lover is coming.”
Laura blanched, then grabbed the cup. “Let me see that thing again. You know what, on second thought, I don’t think it looks at all like a horse’s head. I think it looks like a blob. What does the book say a blob represents?”
Georgia laughed. “There’s nothing for blobs, and we already agreed that it was a horse’s head. And since it’s on the right side of the handle, it’s a positive thing.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” Laura, still strangely white, motioned with her hand to a puzzled Georgia to proceed. “Okay, forget about the horse’s head for a minute. Go on to the pyramid. What does that mean?”
“Hmmm ... let’s see ...” Georgia scanned the pages, then grinned. “Here it is. Pyramid. It means a great secret will be revealed.”
Laura coughed and went a shade or two whiter.
“It’s something that has held you back in some way, but its revelation will let you move on ...” Georgia looked up, startled to see just how pale Laura had become. “Whoa, Laura. Are you all right?”
“Of course I am.” Laura paused, then asked, “That secret would be finding out that Delia is my mother, right?”
“No, I’m sure that’s not it. That’s no longer a secret.” Georgia shook her head, then picked up the cup again and turned it toward the light. “No, I think that this is a secret that has yet to be revealed.”
Laura took the cup from Georgia’s hand and took it to the sink to rinse it out.
“I always thought this was silly. We’ve had our fun for the night. Ally!” Laura called into the living room where Ally was busy lining up chess pieces along the windowsill. “Put those away, honey. It’s time to go.”
“But, Mommy ...”
“You have school tomorrow, Ally,” Laura reminded her gently.
“Okay.” Ally frowned. “But I do get to come back on Saturday to dance.”
“Yes, you do.”
“With Samantha.”
“If Samantha’s mom agrees.”
“She’ll agree.” Ally nodded confidently, then turned to Georgia and said, “And can we have that music you had?”
“The Chopin. Yes,” Georgia assured her, all the while watching Laura’s face as Laura gathered up Ally’s things in the manner of one preparing to flee a burning building. Whatever had set her off?
“What’s a good time for you, Georgia?” Laura asked without looking at her.
“Ten, eleven. Whatever works. Why not give me a call on Saturday morning and let me know how your day is going?”
“Fine. We’ll do that.” Laura grabbed Ally’s jacket and tossed it to her, saying, “Here, sweetie. Put this on. It’s chilly out.”
“No, it’s not.” Ally looked at her, puzzled.
“Well, I feel chilled ...” Laura met Georgia’s eyes from across the room, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe it’s just me ... okay, got everything? Georgia, thanks for a wonderful dinner ... don’t forget to write down the recipe for me to give to Jody.” Laura kissed Georgia on the cheek as she blew past her in the kitchen doorway.
“Thank you, Aunt Georgia.” Ally waved, and Georgia grabbed her long enough to plant a quick smooch on the child’s upturned face. “I can’t wait till Saturday.” Ally’s voice trailed out the back door, and Georgia followed her.
“Laura—” Georgia called from the back steps. Laura was already at the passenger’s side door and had it open for Ally to jump in.
“I’ll talk to you on Saturday,” Laura called back as she walked hurriedly around the car.
Now what, a wide-eyed Georgia wondered, was that all about? Why, Laura acted like someone being pursued by banshees.
It had been the horse’s head that had set her off, Georgia recalled.
Closing the back door behind her and locking it, Georgia sat at the table and picked up Hope’s book once again, wondering if she had perhaps made a mistake. She closed her eyes, trying to envision the symbol that she had seen in Laura’s cup. That had been a horse’s head, all right. She opened the book again and read the meaning of the symbol aloud. “A lover will be coming into your life.”
She turned the pages back until she located the pyramid.
“No mistake.” She shook her head. “It clearly says a great secret will be revealed, one that has held you back in some way. Once the secret has been revealed, you will be able to move forward....”
Two potentially good things, from Georgia’s point of view. A lover and a secret ...
From Laura’s perspective, however, the reading had obviously meant something entirely different. And whatever its meaning, it had driven her from Pumpkin Hill like one pursued by demons.
Or an unwanted lover.
Or a secret ...