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Anne awoke at twelve on Saturday to the concerned meows of her two cats. She fed them and straightened up the Christmas tree again. The phone rang.
It was Dr. Abernathy. “How are you this morning?”
“I feel wonderful. I haven’t felt this peaceful in years,” she said.
“Excellent. You don’t have cold feet?”
“I have to admit I’m intrigued. I certainly didn’t expect to remember anything about Cynthia.”
“Good. Dreams?”
“Not last night.”
“That makes sense. You needed time to incorporate the work we did. Now, if you’re game, I want you to start on a new regimen. We need to get you up to speed as quickly as possible.”
“Okay, coach.”
Dr. Abernathy laughed. “I’ve sent a courier over with some suggestions. Let me know if you have any objections or need clarification. If they meet with your approval, then get started as soon as you can.”
They hung up. Elizabeth had chosen the perfect teacher for her, Anne thought. With the door open to leave, Anne felt free to stay.
She sat with her teacup in front of the fire, remembering the single flame of her faith as a child. Wordsworth had been right about young children trailing clouds of glory. It had all been simple then. The memories they’d uncovered last night surprised her, as did her easy acceptance of them. She felt whole somehow, like she’d found a long-forgotten box in the attic. Dr. Abernathy’s explanations seemed rational. It felt right to continue.
☥☥☥
His proposed regimen, however, would seriously cut into her time. It included two one-hour meditations a day and a session with the crystal each night. Plus she was to keep a journal of her experiences during those sessions and record her dreams.
By Monday, she was enjoying meditating and reading so much she decided to take yet another day off. Her dreams, now that she was waiting with pen in hand, seemed to have disappeared. No images formed in the depths of the crystal, but her inner silence was deepening. When she asked why everything had gone dark when she was finally paying attention, Dr. Abernathy told her to be patient, that these things had their own timing.
On Tuesday, Anne went into the office to finish off loose ends before the holiday break. Sorting through the papers on her desk, she found a note from Susan telling her the private investigators had finished their report and that she had an appointment at their office this afternoon. It took Anne a minute to remember that she’d asked them to investigate Cynthia’s death.
Anne made her way to the Madison Avenue offices of Lynx and Associates, and was ushered into the main investigator’s office immediately. Sitting behind a massive desk topped with a green banker’s lamp was John Lynx. Overweight with a round face and bald head, he looked every inch the CPA, not a private eye.
He rose and shook her hand. “Please sit down. Can we get you anything?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
At a nod from Mr. Lynx, the secretary closed the door. He assumed a look of commercial sympathy, which transformed him into the perfect undertaker. “We’re sorry for your recent loss, Ms. Le Clair. I know it’s difficult to talk about the recently departed, and it can be even more upsetting to discover anything . . .” He waved a hand and looked up into the air, searching for the most delicate word.
“Untoward?” Anne suggested.
Mr. Lynx nodded gravely.
“Let me set your mind at rest, Mr. Lynx. I didn’t know my aunt well and, as an attorney, I’ve had some experience with criminal cases. Please be perfectly frank with me.”
Mr. Lynx underwent another transformation into a straightforward businessman. He opened the file in front of him and cleared his throat. “Your aunt had some unusual contacts for someone of your family’s standing—a Rosicrucian group with connections to a Jewish mystical sect in the city.”
Anne suppressed a smile.
“About six months before her death, she had several meetings with this group, followed by travel to Israel and then Egypt. Did your aunt have business in the Middle East?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
He nodded. “It seems she met with a historian in Jerusalem, a man connected to the group here in New York. They caused a bit of a stir when they were found trying to enter a restricted area near the Wailing Wall late at night.”
“Excuse me?” Anne said. “I wonder why my aunt would want to go to the Wailing Wall.”
Mr. Lynx ran a well-manicured nail across the page in front of him. “It is puzzling. Her activities in Egypt seemed normal for a tourist, except she hired a guide who specializes in leading New Age groups.” Mr. Lynx sniffed. “They traveled to most of the major sites it would seem. Your aunt did rent the Great Pyramid for one evening.”
“Rent the pyramid? For what?”
“Apparently, people like to meditate in it.” Mr. Lynx shrugged, obviously at a loss.
“Now here is the unfortunate part. A few days after her return, your aunt’s apartment was broken into. Nothing was reported stolen, which is unusual since she had some rare artifacts—silver, jewelry, and the like—in the residence. Three days later, your aunt had a heart attack and died the next day. However, before her trip she’d had a medical checkup and was reported in perfect health. Her physician and her personal trainer were both surprised by her death.” He paused. “Ms. Le Clair, I believe your aunt was murdered.”
Anne’s stomach twisted. “Murdered? But why?”
“That is always the question. I’m afraid we have no suspect.”
Anne grabbed for her briefcase. She needed to get out. There had been another assassination in the family. She thanked the private detective and gathered the report he’d prepared for her.
He walked her out. “If we can be of any assistance . . .”
She thanked him and hurried home. Dr. Abernathy was not in his office, Thomas did not pick up his phone, and the butler informed Anne that her grandmother was out. She left messages with all of them. Then she noticed that the light on her answering machine was flashing. She heard Dr. Abernathy’s voice and felt a rush of relief.
“Sorry I missed you at the office. I wanted to let you know there’s an extremely important session tomorrow night at your grandmother’s estate. You’ll need to fast all day if you plan to participate. Hope to see you there.”
Anne sat down. She read through the report, which simply added details to what she’d already been told. All she could do was wait. Who had killed her aunt and, more importantly, why? She leaned back on the couch and thought about meditating, but she could not imagine any success in her current state. Merlin butted her arm with his head, a concerned look on his face. Vivienne turned circles on the couch. Anne hugged Merlin to her, and the unshed tears finally fell onto his sleek coat.
☥☥☥
On Wednesday night, Anne arrived at her grandmother’s estate just as the sun set. She ran up the curving staircase and deposited her overnight bag in her bedroom, then found Dr. Abernathy waiting for her in the library.
“Anne, I’m pleased you’re joining us,” he said. Then he saw the look on her face. “What’s the matter?”
“Didn’t you get my message?”
“Yes, but I didn’t have time to call. We’ve been preparing for this ceremony all day.”
“I have some disturbing news. Before we talked, I decided to do some investigating into Aunt Cynthia’s life.”
Dr. Abernathy sat forward, a look of alarm on his face.
“A reputable firm,” she reassured him. “Someone the office uses from time to time.”
“And?” Dr. Abernathy pushed back into the sofa and crossed his arms.
“She may have been murdered, that’s what.”
Dr. Abernathy nodded his head.
“Murdered. Assassinated,” Anne repeated more loudly.
“Yes, we know.”
“You know?” she shouted. “So why didn’t you tell me? Why is there no investigation? Why hasn’t the family been notified?”
“Those who have chosen to take on their responsibilities as Le Clairs know about it,” Dr. Abernathy said forcefully.
“But Mother doesn’t know about it,” she protested.
“Just as I said. We have kept a lot from your mother since she has shirked her responsibility to the family. And it is being investigated. It has just been kept from the press.”
Anne sank down onto a nearby chair. “Why would someone kill Aunt Cynthia? Uncle James, yes, but why her?”
“We aren’t sure. The FBI is investigating a Jewish mystical group with links to extremists in Jerusalem.” He shrugged. “It could have been some other group or a person acting alone. This is a powerful family.”
“Could it have anything to do with the crystal?” Anne’s voice was almost a whisper.
Dr. Abernathy considered her for a minute. “We don’t know. I’ll let you know what we discover. Rest assured the situation is being handled.”
Anne was somewhat relieved. “Why didn’t you call me back? I was very worried.”
“As I said, we had to prepare for tonight. What we’re about to do is vital to the success of your mission.”
“If it’s vital, why did you tell me it was optional for me to come?”
He sat forward. “Everything you do must be from your own free will. Now, are you ready to focus on tonight’s business?”
“I suppose so. I did as you asked, fasted all day and meditated with the crystal.”
“Excellent. Now tell me, why might we have an important ritual tonight?”
Anne looked at him blankly.
“Do you know what tonight is?”
“Wednesday,” she answered quickly.
A short laugh escaped Dr. Abernathy. “Yes, and it is also the winter solstice. According to the old ways, it is midwinter. The Druids started the seasons on the days that mark the halfway points between the equinoxes and solstices. The winter began on Samhain—Halloween. That’s the beginning of winter, according to the old ways. The solstice marks midwinter. Tonight is the longest night of the year, the deepest point of winter. Tonight the darkness triumphs, and in that triumph lies its defeat. In the old religion, on the solstice we celebrate the rebirth of the sun.”
“Okay, but what does all that have to do with us?” Anne asked.
“Even in the city we’re affected by nature, by the seasons, by the length and intensity of the light.” Dr. Abernathy reached for his pipe, but changed his mind. “Do you feel the same in the spring as you do now? In the heat of summer?”
“Well, of course there are emotional differences,” Anne conceded.
Dr. Abernathy’s eyes kindled. “The differences are much more profound than even modern science understands. Even city cats don’t go into heat until the days have reached a certain length. Why? The pineal gland, the master gland in the center of the brain that helps produce altered states of consciousness, reacts to the sun’s light, which turns on the reproductive cycles of cats. The pineal interacts with the pituitary and hypothalamus.”
Anne frowned, little lines appearing at the corners of her blue eyes. “You’re suggesting the sun affects consciousness?”
“Yes. Certain texts discuss the interaction of the pituitary and pineal glands in the production of soma, which is a chemical made by the body under certain circumstances that allows for the expansion of consciousness. The old rituals aren’t just ceremonies to mark the agricultural and herding cycles. They take advantage of the effects different times of the year have on human consciousness. When the light is at its lowest, we turn inward. We honor the womb that gives birth to the light. We face the darkness, and in so doing, the light returns.”
Anne tucked her feet under her. “As if Aunt Cynthia’s murder wasn’t enough.”
“That is upsetting, but we must focus.” Dr. Abernathy’s eyes lit with sympathy. “Winter solstice is a good night to see what’s hidden from view. We will do some scrying with your grandmother’s large crystal. Did you bring your own?”
Anne pulled the small stone out from beneath her sweater. “It looks harmless, doesn’t it?”
“Wear it and the robe I’ll have delivered to your room. And nothing else.” To Anne’s raised her eyebrows, he replied, “And I mean nothing. Synthetic fibers interfere with the energy.”
“Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Then seeing his frown, she said, “Okay, okay. No more questions.”
“I’ll come get you in a few hours. You can nap, have tea, meditate, whatever you want. Just don’t eat anything.”
☥☥☥
Shortly before eleven o’clock, Anne was reading in her bedroom, dressed only in the black robe she’d found draped over her bed and the crystal necklace. She’d tucked a comforter around her bare feet. There was a knock on her bedroom door. She put her book down, smoothed her robe, and opened the door.
Dr. Abernathy stood outside, also barefoot and garbed in a black robe marked with an equal-armed red cross.
“Black?” Anne pointed to her robe, then his
“Black absorbs energy. We’ll be casting a circle, creating an energetically pure environment. Black helps us use the energy we generate more efficiently. And we’re honoring the darkness. Follow me.”
Anne followed him down the staircase and into the foyer. “Where are we going?”
He held his finger up to his lips and refused to answer.
Anne followed him to the back of the house into the ballroom that had been one of the later additions. He walked to the left wall.
“But—”
Dr. Abernathy shushed her forcefully, then turned and pushed something in the wall. A panel swung open, revealing a small entry.
Anne caught her breath. She’d never realized that the ballroom didn’t run the entire length of the back of the house, that there was a secret room at the end.
Thomas stood just inside, also in a black robe. “Who desires entry?” he asked in a formal tone.
“The Protector,” Dr. Abernathy replied.
Thomas shifted his gaze to Anne and asked again, “Who desires entry?”
Anne looked from her brother to her uncle, amazed by this archaic exchange.
“The Keeper,” Dr. Abernathy replied for her.
Thomas stepped aside for them to enter.
Candles glowed from each corner of the room. In the center stood a low altar dominated by a large crystal ball illuminated by white candles and other accoutrements. Against one wall was a table with a decanter of wine and a loaf of bread, also surrounded by white candles, sprigs of holly, and Christmas flowers. She took a step forward and felt carpet beneath her feet. Looking down, she saw woven into the rug a large pentagram that took up a full third of the room.
Her grandfather Gerald, her cousin Rebecca, Winston and Cordelia Stuart, Mary Shak, and Julia and Bill Hardy, all family friends, stood in a circle along with a few people whose names she didn’t recall. Everyone smiled or nodded, but no one spoke.
Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, regal in her black robe, her hair loose and flowing down her back in a river of silver. She held out her hands for Anne. “I can’t tell you how many times I have prayed for this. Stand here, dear, and don’t say anything until I tell you.” Elizabeth kissed her cheek, then turned to the north and raised her hands. She held a long knife, its blade elaborately carved, which she pointed across the room.
“I call upon the powers of the North, powers of earth and winter,” she intoned. “We ask your guidance and protection in our circle as we honor the rebirth of the sun.”
Anne noticed everyone had turned to face north and was holding up similar knives or just bare hands. When Elizabeth finished, she drew in the air with a flourish, which the group mimicked. Then everyone turned to face east. Elizabeth recited another invocation. By the time she turned to the south, Anne felt a shift in the room around her, a buzz, even a slight tingling on her skin, as if the air were charged with electricity. After invoking the four directions, Elizabeth lifted her hands and looked up, inviting the Solar Lord into their midst. Then she knelt and spoke to the Earth Mother.
Anne would have dismissed this as superstitious nonsense if she hadn’t felt the atmosphere growing more vibrant as each direction was added to the circle. She vaguely remembered Cynthia doing something similar during the ceremony with the crystal when she was four.
Elizabeth stood and nodded. Rebecca picked up a silver bowl engraved with a simple star and an evergreen sprig from the center altar and walked the circle her grandmother had just created, sprinkling water and chanting softly. Anne couldn’t make out her words. Once she had walked the circle, she went to each person and sprinkled each in turn. When she came to Anne, a warm smile lit her face. “May you be purified,” she whispered. Drops of water fell on Anne’s face and mouth. She tasted salt.
When her cousin finished her rounds, Thomas took up a stick of incense, lit it from the candle, and walked the perimeter, waving smoke in the air as he went. Following Rebecca’s path, he waved incense around each person, intoning the same phrase, “May you be purified.”
He looks exactly like a priest, Anne thought, amazed by how comfortable he seemed in the role.
She was beginning to feel light-headed, although she wasn’t dizzy. Looking around the circle, she noticed the light had intensified, but she hadn’t seen anyone add candles or a lamp. She wondered what had happened. Beneath her uncertainty was a growing lake of calm. She felt a stir in the air, a fresh breeze, but knew no one had opened a window.
Her grandmother looked at Anne and smiled. “The circle is complete,” she said simply.
As if this were a cue, Gerald stepped forward and began to speak:
“We meet again on the longest night.
When dark has triumphed over light.
On this night we find it right
To seek within our inner light.”
They all closed their eyes, so Anne followed suit. A soft wordless chant began. Anne floated on the sound, feeling her breath quiet, her body grow lighter. The crystal resting on her chest stirred to life. She lifted it out from beneath her robes.
Behind her came the voice of Elizabeth:
“Deep in the darkest night,
We feel a stir of light.
The Goddess groans and into the world
Is born the infant light.”
Anne felt a hand on her shoulder. Mary handed her a few candles. She took one and passed the rest. Her cousin Rebecca moved behind her grandmother, lighting each candle in turn. The group chanted, “Hail the return of light.” Once the candles were lit, everyone moved into a circle around the main altar. To her great surprise, they sang a Christmas hymn, “O Holy Night.”
When the song finished, people found places for their candles around the room. Now Anne could see altars on each of the four walls. She placed her candle on the closest, the east, then joined the circle forming in the middle around the crystal ball. Her grandparents had cushions. Others sat cross-legged, their hands resting loosely on their knees.
Elizabeth spoke, “Tonight it is my great joy to welcome my granddaughter Anne into our circle. She is appointed Keeper. We bless the spirit of the past Keeper and pray for her enlightenment. May she guide this new one.”
The group murmured welcomes to her.
Elizabeth continued, “Now we will search for guidance from the wise ones. We face a difficult challenge. This one is new to her responsibilities, yet the time presses in upon us. How shall we uphold our duty and fulfill our sworn oaths?” Elizabeth looked around the circle at the shining eyes of thirteen men and women. “Let us begin.”
The group turned their attention to the crystal. A few began a low wordless chant. Anne followed the directions on scrying that she’d found in one of the books she’d bought. She looked at the crystal ball, focusing just inside the surface of the sphere. As the group’s trance deepened, the chant gradually fell away.
Anne floated in the vibrant silence as if on a stream. Gradually, images formed inside the crystal. She saw a bonfire, heard other voices chanting. A pool of clear water appeared and a voice said, “Gaze into the water, but don’t focus too closely. Allow yourself to drift.” In the water, she saw reflected the face of the old woman she’d seen on her first night with her own crystal.
A glow started in the depths. It spread and encompassed her entire vision. Images formed. A long line of people walked through hot sand, some riding donkeys. Her throat burned with thirst for a few seconds. Then came the sound of splashing water. Women soaked in a Roman-style bath. Then a man sat in a study, hunched over amidst books and odd instruments, reading by candlelight. Next she was on a ship, desperate to escape, huddled with two small children. Again came the sounds of chanting from a circle of large standing stones. Then a man on a horse charged toward a group of men in white with swords, a large stone fortress behind them.
The images flowed so quickly she had trouble registering them. She grasped her own crystal to steady herself, but the contact only quickened the pace. More images exploded in her mind. She stood in the midst of a group, each holding a crystal, each chanting very particular sounds, each focusing as if the fate of worlds rested on their shoulders. The chanting grew more insistent, the weave of harmony more complex. Anne saw a large crystal in front of this group, the largest she’d ever seen. It soared over her head, taking up her entire field of vision. As the chanting grew to a pitch, the room began to hum, the floor to vibrate, the walls to quiver.
Suddenly, the space around and within her imploded, as if the world had sucked itself up into one tiny point, and then the enormous crystal before her exploded with light. A beam of purest white shot from the crystal and irradiated the room, the air, the walls. The light expanded into an enormous column, rising out of the room and flowing out through the domed ceiling into the night sky. If Anne’s ears could have heard the sound, it would have burst her eardrums. Every cell in her body reverberated with this note that was also light. She felt as if she were etched into eternity. She gasped for release, for vision, for breath, but none came. She was burning in the fire of that radiance. She could stand it no longer. She lost consciousness and slumped to the floor.
☥☥☥
“She’s coming to,” Elizabeth said.
Anne glanced around at her childhood bedroom in her grandmother’s estate. “What happened?”
“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Thomas said, trying to keep the concern out of his voice. “You’ve been out for almost half an hour.”
“How did I get here?” She started to sit up, but fell back on the pillow.
“I carried you,” Thomas said. “Tell us what you saw.”
Anne tried to recall her experiences. “I saw images, a lot of them. There were people in the desert, then in a community bath. I was in a library, on a boat.” She closed her eyes wearily. “There were so many.”
“Take your time,” Elizabeth said. “There’s no rush.” This wasn’t quite true, Thomas thought, but it wouldn’t help her to know that now.
After Anne recited the visions she could remember, Grandmother Elizabeth asked, “What happened right before you passed out?”
“I was in some sort of room chanting with a group of people. It was a special chant, and we all had crystals.” Her eyes widened as she remembered the enormous crystal in the middle. She tried to describe it. “It was as tall as a two-story building. And it exploded, only not really. It just suddenly . . .” Anne grasped for words. “There was a huge light, but it was also sound. I felt like I was on fire, only the pain was exquisite somehow. And then I guess I passed out.”
There was a long silence in the room. Then Elizabeth said, “This is very promising.”
“Promising? I fainted,” Anne said.
“Yes, dear, but next time you won’t.”
“Next time?” Anne’s eyes widened.
“Now I want you to go to sleep. I’m having some warm milk with sedative herbs sent up. Drink it all. You need to rest now. Tomorrow, we’ll answer all your questions.”
Anne tried to object, but Thomas could see she was still pale.
“Yes, Granny.” Anne winked.
☥☥☥
Dr. Abernathy, Elizabeth, and Thomas returned to the group to enjoy the traditional wine and bread after the ritual.
“How is she?” Julia asked as soon as they appeared.
“She’s resting now,” Dr. Abernathy said. “She went too deep, too fast. She’s still a beginner, after all.”
“Except for what she saw,” Thomas amended.
Elizabeth handed each of them a plate of gingerbread with lemon sauce. “You both need to ground yourselves. She wasn’t the only one who went deep. We have important news to digest. Members of our association in France report that their astrologers say we have an important opening coming up. This is an ancient configuration, the Star Alignment—one that has only recently been reinterpreted. It may be the sign of the rebirth. And there have been signs in nature and in dreams.”
“Excellent,” Rebecca said.
“This configuration will take place on the first of February.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Of this coming year?” Dr. Abernathy asked.
Elizabeth nodded, looking at each member in turn. “This makes our task all the more difficult, and our success all the more essential. If only Cynthia had told us what she discovered in Egypt before she died.” Her knuckles were white on the arm of her chair.
“We should retrace her steps ourselves,” Thomas said. “I could travel to Egypt and speak with her contact.”
“Do we know his name?” asked Rebecca.
“No, but I know where to get it.”
“If the time is so close, perhaps Anne should go with you,” Gerald suggested.
Elizabeth shook her head, “She’s not ready. We have so much to teach her. Damn it, Katherine!” She muttered this last softly, then drew herself up to her full height. “Anne must be prepared. We cannot carry this knowledge for so long only to fail at the last moment.”
Dr. Abernathy placed a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps this explains the intensity of her vision.”
Elizabeth struggled with herself for a moment, then turned her eyes to him and nodded. He proceeded to tell the group what Anne had told them.
“But this is promising,” Rebecca said. “She’s accessing deeper information. Perhaps this is a clue to the use of the crystal.”
“May I suggest a plan?” Thomas asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
“I’ll try to find out what Cynthia discovered and return as quickly as possible.”
“This seems unavoidable.” Dr. Abernathy looked at Elizabeth. “We must put Anne on the fast track, focus night and day on her instruction.”
“And we must have faith,” Rebecca added softly, “that her spiritual training from past lives will come through for her.”
Elizabeth studied the faces of the people she had worked with all her life, then nodded.
Dr. Abernathy spoke up. “There is one more piece of business. Our investigation of Cynthia’s death turned up some disturbing possibilities. The cause of death is still a mystery.”
“I thought she had a heart attack,” Gerald said.
“She did, but why? We looked for designer drugs, the kind the CIA uses to induce heart attacks, but found nothing we could identify—no puncture marks, no trace drugs in her system. It could be a brand-new substance. We also discovered unusually high activity in Egypt by the Illuminati. We must consider the possibility that Cynthia was killed by magic.” Dr. Abernathy looked around the circle.
“Magic?” Elizabeth said. “Cynthia could protect herself. Surely one of us would have picked up residual impressions. Who could do such a thing?”
“I can think of only one person,” Dr. Abernathy said. “Alexander Cagliostro.”
Rebecca inhaled sharply. “You mean he’s still alive?”
“I thought he was only a myth,” Bill Hardy said.
“No, he exists all right,” responded Dr. Abernathy.
“Anne is definitely not ready to meet Alexander Cagliostro,” Elizabeth said.
☥☥☥
Anne woke late on Thursday morning and sat up in bed, looking around to orient herself. The crystal rested next to her on the nightstand. Her memories of last night’s ritual were vivid. She felt an unaccustomed happiness, like champagne just uncorked. Her stomach growled and she realized she was ravenous. She finished her morning ablutions quickly, pulled on jeans and a turtleneck, and hurried to the dining room.
Thomas sat at the table, dressed in riding clothes, drinking tea and looking out the expanse of windows. She joined him.
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
“Famished.”
“I’m not surprised,” he laughed and rang the small silver bell on the table.
The maid arrived shortly from the kitchen, and Anne asked for an omelet, hash browns, and juice. Meanwhile, she poured a cup of tea and took a scone from the basket on the table.
“Why are you not surprised?”
“About?”
“That I’m famished,” she spoke carefully around a bite of scone and jam. “Where’s the clotted cream?”
“Double cream, you know.” Thomas pushed the bowl toward her.
“It’s the holidays. I can eat over the holidays.” Anne lavished her half-eaten scone with a spoonful of cream.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.
“I ate a snack last night after the ritual. Psychic work tends to make people hungry, but I’m used to it.”
“How long have you been doing these rituals?”
“Ever since I left mother’s house and started living on my own.”
“But you spent holidays and summers with Grandmother while you were in boarding school.”
Thomas looked thoughtful. “You’re right. I guess since I was thirteen.”
“I didn’t know anything about it. I never realized that room was even there.” Anne took another bite.
“You seem to have had a change of heart. How was your sudden conversion accomplished?”
“Dr. Abernathy helped me remember Cynthia. I remembered when she bonded me to the crystal. I think I was four or so.”
“Where is your famous skepticism?”
Anne shrugged. “I’m willing to consider the evidence, and so far he’s been able to provide perfectly rational explanations for my experiences.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” came a voice from the doorway.
Turning, Anne saw Dr. Abernathy, dressed in corduroy pants, a sweater, and ascot. He took a seat at the head of the table. “How is the star performer this morning?”
“Star? I don’t think so,” Anne said. “I feel wonderful.”
“Dreams?”
“Can’t recall any.”
“You’re consistent. That’s good.”
Estelle arrived with Anne’s food and she plunged in. After a few more bites, Anne asked, “Were you able to make any sense of what I saw last night?”
Thomas and Dr. Abernathy looked at each other.
“What?” Anne demanded.
Dr. Abernathy nodded for Thomas to speak. “It’s like I said before. The crystal is downloading its history to you. It’s just that you’ve gone much deeper than Cynthia ever did in her lifetime.”
Anne put down her fork. “How can that be? I’m a beginner.”
“Not exactly. Remember, you’ve been meditating all your life,” Dr. Abernathy corrected her. “Plus you’ve probably had spiritual training in past lives.”
“Let’s hope I can remember it,” Anne said.
“I want to catch you up on the meeting last night.” Dr. Abernathy gave her a brief version of the astrological information they had been given, then continued, “So you can see that we might be on a rather tight schedule. I’d like you to consider reassigning all your cases to another attorney and working full-time here to finish your training.”
“Finish? I’ve just started.”
“Which is exactly the problem.”
“But I have a speech at the end of the month.”
“You can deliver that. I’m just asking you to dedicate the next six weeks to your training.”
Anne pushed her now empty plate away and took a sip of tea. “I suppose I could do that,” she said at last. “Whatever happened last night was very intriguing, and I’d like to know more.” She put her cup down and gazed out the window for a long moment, then murmured, “Mother is going to have a fit.”
Thomas snorted. “If it weren’t for Mother, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Anne opened her mouth to defend Katherine out of habit, then stopped. “You’re probably right.”
Dr. Abernathy stood. “Excellent. I’ll see to the office. I’ll give you the day off, except for meditating. Shall we start tomorrow?”
“Deal.” Anne shook his hand in mock seriousness. She looked up to see Thomas beaming at her.
“It’s great to be working with you, Annie. When you feel up to it, we’ve got a lot of history to cover.”
“Let’s go for a ride,” she said.
Thomas grabbed his riding gloves. “Sounds perfect. I was planning just that.”
They spent the morning riding over the estate and the adjoining bridle paths. Anne felt the joy and vigor of their old childhood days. In the afternoon, she went home to the city since she’d only left the cats enough food for a day. They greeted her with demanding yowls. “Oh, you’re such abused kitties.” They purred and rubbed her legs as she prepared a dinner for them.
She had two phone messages. The first was from Susan telling her she understood Anne was taking some time off from the office and that she’d e-mail the speech. Anne made a note to mail Susan’s Christmas packages to her home.
Next was a male voice Anne didn’t recognize at first. “Anne, this is Michael Levy. I sold you the Art Deco brooch and had coffee with you at the metaphysical bookstore. I hope it’s okay that I’m calling. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner.” He gave his phone number.
Anne sat looking at the machine for a moment. After all she’d done in the last few days, she certainly couldn’t hold a class at a New Age bookstore against him. She decided to call him—if, she thought ruefully, her new schedule would permit a date.