“Come here and give your Aunt Grace a hug.” I love that she calls herself my Aunt Grace. I love it even more that her arms are wrapped around me before I could even say “hi.” Her bear hug is tight and warm and relaxes all my apprehensions and doubts, filling me with the reassurance that everything will be all right.
I’ve barely stepped a foot inside her home when the aroma of sweet potato pie hits me. “Mmm, something smells amazing,” I say with a silent commitment to only have one slice tonight. But honestly, after driving for twelve hours with nothing but a bag of Fritos and gas station roller food, who am I kidding? All bets are off.
She pulls me away, locking her big blue-green eyes with mine. “Brooke told me about your breakup. I’m so sorry,” she says, frowning.
“I’m not,” I say with renewed conviction. “New day. New life.”
Her soft hands cup my cheeks. “Good. He would only stand in the way of you and your amazing adventure.” Her eyes are alive with delight. “Come on.” Her arm loops around mine, tugging me in. “I’ve got tea and pie and have to know what’s pulling my shy little Ivy-vine from home.”
Ivy-vine. I forgot she used to call me that. My smile grows remembering how much I’d cling to her every time she was in arms-reach. I relax, knowing she doesn’t mind in the slightest that I still cling to her now.
We head to the kitchen, where the seating area is cozy, with sunlight pouring through lace sheers at the open picture window. The cabinets are a perfect country-white, and the bouquet of fresh daisies makes me smile. As soon as I sit, a large slice of pie is set before me along with a mug of tea. The mug has a whole pie pictured at the bottom, with a caption that reads, “You want a piece of me?”
Bite after bite, I share everything that’s happened in the past day and a half and show her the photo. Aunt Grace shines a skeptical eye between me and the photo as she holds it to my face. I bite my lip nervously. “Well? See any resemblance?”
She wrinkles her face. “Hard to say. I always thought you and I looked alike … right here.” She taps the tip of my nose, then adjusts her glasses to take a better look at the image of my mom and the man beside her. “That looks familiar.”
I swallow my bite. “What does?”
“That letter D. Hang on.” From a stack of magazines and newspapers, she pulls out the classified section. “Here.” On the front page of the classifieds is a job announcement, with a letter D as a logo. Side by side, the Ds are identical.
“Why were you reading the classifieds? Are you looking for a job?” I thought she was retired.
Aunt Grace waves me off. “I don’t have children or cats. I read everything I can get my hands on.” She refocuses on the ad. “Help wanted. Caretaker.”
“Like a gardener?”
“I don’t think so.” She sips her tea and continues. “More like a jack-of-all-trades. Running errands. Tidying up. In-home care.” She looks up at me. “Does that mean they want someone to live there?”
I shrug a shoulder, mumbling, “Maybe,” as I take a large piece of pie into my mouth. I swallow. “Sometimes that’s code for working with someone who may be elderly or disabled.” Not unlike the ads we used to place at Sparrow Wellness. “But what does the D stand for?”
She fingers down the ad. “Oh, it’s at the D’Angelo Towers building downtown.” Her eyes beam with delight. “It’s one of the biggest skyscrapers in Chicago. Maybe if you show that picture to the front desk, they can help you.”
“Maybe.”
Neatly, she folds the paper in half and sets it next to me. “Give me your hand.”
Her fingers wiggle expectantly as I lay my hand in hers. Aunt Grace has always believed herself to be somewhat of a mystic, and palm reading is just the start. I’m sure the room she has me in is dotted with clear quartz and purple crystals, and the Tarot cards can’t be far.
Despite her track record for predicting that one day I’d be a stately queen in a lavish castle, butterflies flutter wildly in my belly as I await her premonition.
“Oh, look at this,” she says with a suggestive lift in her voice.
I lean in, hushing my words. “What do you see?”
“This.” She traces a finger from one side of my hand upward. “This is your love line. Love is in the air, sweet girl. Love is in the air.”
Considering the hellacious breakup I just had, I shut down the defensive eye roll and play along. “Really? Because Brooke ordered me a smoking hot rebound god. Can you see how far out he is? Like, is he on the delivery truck now?”
“Soon, baby girl. Very soon.” Aunt Grace winks with a frisky giggle.