Gambling on the Artist Read online

  Luna got to work on the latte. She set the coffee and cinnamon bun on a small tray and handed it to Sam. “You’re too skinny. Consider this my contribution to putting some meat on your bones.”

  “You’re the best, Luna.” Sam’s stomach seconded the sentiment with a rumble.

  Luna waved off Sam’s thanks. “Don’t think I’m not upset with you for staying away so long. Four years without a visit is unforgivable.”

  Sam straightened, suddenly feeling like the awkward seventeen-year-old she’d been last time she’d seen Luna. “Sorry about that.” Sam had been determined to make it on her own, without Aunt Emma’s help. In the years since she’d left the town, though, she’d barely made ends meet.

  The door opened, and several customers walked in.

  “You’re not off the hook until we have a proper sit-down conversation,” Luna said. “I’m shorthanded this morning, and I’ve got to get back to work, but Emma left something for you.” She reached under the counter and handed Sam a white envelope with her name on it in her aunt’s almost-illegible handwriting.

  What did Aunt Emma have to tell her that couldn’t wait until the shop opened? Whatever it was would have to keep until after Sam got something in her stomach. After she sat down, she bit into the cinnamon bun and shut her eyes for a moment, savoring the gooey brown sugar and cinnamon, the sprinkling of chopped pecans, and the warm dough.

  “Hey, sweet pea,” a woman said with a thick, southern drawl.

  Sam peered over her shoulder a moment before Ramona wrapped her in a hug.

  “Hi. How are you?” Sam asked the hairdresser as she stood up.

  A serene smile lit up Ramona’s round face. “Never better.” She held her hand up for Sam to see the diamond on her ring finger then fluffed her bleached-blond hair. “Engaged to the best guy in the world.” Ramona lowered her voice. “A man of magic, and I’m not just talkin’ about his bedroom skills.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Sam snickered at Ramona’s comment, although she couldn’t imagine how anyone would willingly consent to be tied to another person for the rest of her life. Even if that man was magic. Guys came and went. Not a one could be trusted to stick around. She had to admit though, she was envious of anyone who had supernatural powers since Sam had been unlucky enough to not inherit any of the magical gifts that her maternal relatives all seemed to possess. “That’s…great, I guess.”

  Ramona frowned. “You guess?”

  Sam mentally smacked herself. “No, I didn’t mean it like… Just forget it. Congrats. I wish you the best.”

  Ramona squeezed Sam’s arm. “Come on over to the salon later, and I’ll give you a trim—on the house. No offense, but you need it, hon. Can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to. Setting the art world on fire by now, no doubt.”

  “No fires yet, but thanks for the vote of confidence. I might take you up on that offer, though.”

  “Please do. I’ll fill you in on all the gossip. Ooh! You should get a reading from our new nail tech, Mallory. She’s really good.” Ramona slapped a hand over her mouth. “What am I thinking? Your Aunt Emma does great readings, too.”

  Sam nodded. “She does.” A reading was a great idea, actually. Sam would ask her aunt after they caught up. She certainly had a lot of questions about her future. Maybe Aunt Emma’s advice would help Sam figure out what she should be doing and how she could make enough money to get by on her own.

  By far, the most pressing question she had was whether to sell the sapphire brooch. Certainly, she needed the money. Her aunt’s message had been clear about one thing—Sam wasn’t to do anything with the jewel, at least until after she and Emma had an in-person talk.

  The antique sapphire pin was pretty big, and no doubt worth a hefty chunk of change, but the stone’s value went beyond its actual monetary worth. According to Sam’s dad, the jewel had magical properties. When someone held it or wore it, lying was impossible for them. So many people had been dishonest with Sam. If what her dad had said was for real, she could easily figure out when someone was telling the truth, and when they weren’t, merely by handing them the stone and asking them a question. That knowledge could come in handy, especially since people had lied to Sam her whole life. And in truth, maybe owning a magical piece of jewelry was the next best thing to actually having the gift of magic. Yet, if she sold the sapphire, she could afford to rent space in a gallery for her work.

  A lawyer had contacted Sam right after her father’s death last month, telling her he had a client interested in the jewel. She hadn’t been ready to part with the only thing she had of her dad, even though the lawyer had insisted his client was prepared to make her a generous offer. When she’d turned him down, he’d given her his number and insisted that whenever she was ready, his buyer was interested.

  Sam pulled out her aunt’s handwritten letter. Emma had filled up the entire page with her tiny, messy cursive writing. Sam deciphered as much as she could: Her aunt needed her to work the store for the next ten days. What? Was there something wrong with Aunt Emma? Was she ill? Sam’s mouth was suddenly dry as charcoal. She continued reading.

  “I can’t explain now why I can’t be there, but as soon as I return, we’ll have a lovely visit,” Emma wrote. She went on to tell Sam that she’d prepared her old room in the house and that she’d stocked the fridge with some of Sam’s favorites—spaghetti casserole, Scotch eggs, and a rhubarb pie.

  The rest of the letter was detailed instructions for taking care of Emma’s cat, Ginger—when and what to feed her, where her toys were kept, and how often to brush her.

  But there was almost no information about working the store. How was Sam supposed to run a business she hadn’t even entered in years? Sure, she’d helped out there on weekends and summer vacation when she was a teenager, but Emma had always been there, overseeing everything. What if she screwed it up? She hardly knew anything about the essential oils, crystals, and other spiritual items her aunt carried.

  Perhaps a reading would tell her if she was up to the challenge.

  Sam ate the rest of her cinnamon bun while she waited for Ramona to finish paying for her coffee and pastry. When Ramona strode to the condiment station, Sam grabbed her coffee cup and joined her. “Do you think I could get a reading now?”

  Ramona dumped three sugar packets into her coffee. “I’m sure someone could squeeze you in. Come on.”

  Sam waved to Luna. “I’ll be back later,” she told the barista.

  “You’d better.” Luna threw her a wink.

  Sam followed Ramona next door to Claws-N-Coifs. The heavy odors of hairspray and nail polish permeated the air. The décor was still the same pink and black as Sam remembered, with four hair stations lining one wall, three nail tables on the other side, and a tall reception desk in the waiting area near the door. Two hairdressers were working on clients.

  Ramona set her coffee and pastry down at her station then strode toward the two manicurists. “Hey, y’all. Anybody got time to give my friend Sam here a reading?”

  “I can do it as soon as I finish with Ms. Watson’s manicure,” a pretty blonde told Ramona.

  Sam nodded at the nail tech. Why did she look so familiar? Then it hit her. Sam had just seen her at the cat café, but she’d been wearing a black T-shirt with the café’s logo. Now she had on a cute red and white polka dot dress. Sam nudged Ramona. “I-I’m confused.”

  Ramona widened her eyes at Sam. “What’s wrong, doll?”

  Sam tipped her chin toward the blonde manicurist. “I swear I just saw that woman at the café.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you’re coming down with something.” Ramona touched her hand to Sam’s forehead. Then she burst out laughing. “Sorry, sweet pea. I’m messing with you. Mallory here has a twin. Jordan works at the cat rescue next door.”

  Sam grinned. “You’re rotten, Ramona.”

  “You have no idea, doll.” Hooking Sam’s arm, the hairdresser led her to the sofa. “Mallory’s our newest nail tech. And she’ll give y
ou a good reading, too.” Ramona pointed at Sam’s hands. “Those paws of yours could use some pampering.”

  “We’ll see. Thanks, Ramona.” Sam sat down in the waiting area and folded her hands in her lap. She’d given up on trying to keep up her fingernails. With all the painting she did, her skin was permanently pigmented purple.

  Minutes later, Mallory came over. “You wanted a reading?”

  Sam stood. “How much is it?”

  “I gather you’re a friend of Ramona’s. I’ll give you the friends and family discount. How does ten bucks sound?”

  Like all Sam could afford at the moment. “That’s fine. Thanks.”

  Mallory led Sam to her nail table and sat across from her. She handed Sam a deck of tarot cards. “Shuffle them and think about what you’d like them to tell you.”

  Where to begin? So many things in her life were in a state of flux—her career, her living arrangements, her finances, her aunt’s whereabouts. But she couldn’t expect Mallory to portent every aspect of her life. So she concentrated on the sapphire brooch. She finished mixing the deck and set it on the table. “I need to know what I should do with…something that I recently…acquired.”

  “Okay.” Mallory fanned out the deck. “Pick three.”

  When she did, Mallory studied the cards for several moments before tapping one that depicted a man and woman dancing under the moon. “The moon. Could mean a whirlwind romance.”

  Sam laughed. “Not likely.”

  Shrugging, Mallory continued. “The relationship portended here would be powerful, almost intoxicating, but it isn’t one you can trust.” She pointed to the next card. “A man who might mean you harm.”

  Sam knew better than to trust in any relationship, which was why she planned to avoid them for the foreseeable future. “What about my question? The item I asked about.”

  Mallory looked at each card in turn. “That decision isn’t in your hands.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes at the psychic. “But it belongs to me. Of course, it’s my decision.”

  Mallory shook her head. “Not right now it isn’t, but that could change. I’m just telling you what the cards say.” She pointed to the deck. “Think about what you desire most then pick one more card.”

  Sam concentrated on her future. Would she ever find success as an artist? What did she have to do in order to achieve her dreams? She drew a card and handed it to Mallory.

  The blonde widened her eyes as she laid the card on the table. “Very interesting. This one is all about visions and illusions, and even creative arts.”

  Sam sat up taller.

  “It can be a warning about hidden enemies,” Mallory said. “But it also portents amazing creativity and powerful magic.”

  “Magic?” Sam’s pulse raced.

  “Mm-hmm. Be warned, though. You might be facing a time of emotional and mental trial. Your mind could play tricks on you. Try to keep your senses about you. Don’t let that whirlwind romance knock you off balance.”

  Fat chance. And magic? Not likely. So much for Mallory’s fortune-telling abilities.

  Maybe when Aunt Emma returned, Sam would get a more accurate reading from her. All her life, Sam had wished for some sort of magical gift—like Aunt Emma’s psychic ability, Sam’s mother’s gift of clairaudience, or Grandma Selma’s power to move objects with her mind. But the spring of supernatural talents that ran through so much of her family had apparently made a detour around Sam.

  Rather than dispute the reader’s claim, Sam merely shrugged and passed her aunt’s letter across the table. “What do you make of this?”

  Mallory quickly scanned the note then held it between her hands before giving it back to Sam. “I’m not picking up any weird vibes from the letter. What is it you want to know?”

  “What’s going on with my Aunt Emma. She didn’t say a word about going out of town. It’s unlike her to be so…secretive.”

  “Oh, you’re talking about Emma from Eye of Newt. I saw her last week. She said she was going on a cruise.”

  “A cruise?” Sam’s heart sank. Emma would be totally incommunicado until she came home. Sam would have to wait so long to find out what her aunt’s message about the sapphire meant.

  Mallory furrowed her brow. “The vacation will do her good. She works all the time. Is that what you’re worried about? That she’s sick or something? I can see your point. A vacation is out of character for her. I’m sure Emma’s fine, though.”

  Exhaling a little of her tension, Sam smiled. “Yeah, that was it. I guess I’m no good at putting my questions into words.”

  “Nothing else I can answer for you?”

  Sam considered that. “Would you happen to know how I’m supposed to get into the store?”

  “Luna has the key. The PS on the back of the letter said so.”

  How had Sam missed that? “Okay, thanks.” She set two crinkled five-dollar bills on Mallory’s table. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

  “Hope so. It was nice to meet you.” Sam returned to the café.

  Luna waved her past the line of customers. “You just want a refill?”

  “Definitely.” Sam set her cup on the counter. “Did my aunt leave a key here for me?”

  Luna smacked her forehead. “Sorry. I completely forgot.” She handed Sam a fresh latte and a ring with two keys. “She said one is for the store and the other is to the cottage.”

  “Thanks, Luna. I’ll see you later.” Picking up her coffee, she turned to leave and crashed into a man. Somehow, the paper cup smashed between them, spilling hot coffee all over both of them. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and handed them to the best-looking guy with the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, like viridian paint with a smidge of gold mixed in. And damn, did he smell great. His cologne reminded her of the crisp, clean scent of the beach when her mom’s carnival had done stints in Wildwood, New Jersey, or Ocean City, Maryland.

  “I’m not.” Giving her a wink, he grinned. “Well, I am sorry for causing you to spill your drink all over yourself.”

  A zing of heat skittered through her as he patted his shirt and jacket with the napkins. “N-no, it was my fault. I should have looked where I was going.” She reached for more napkins to clean herself up. Geez, he was ridiculously handsome, like someone you’d see on a billboard ad for men’s cologne or on the cover of a sexy romance novel.

  But she wasn’t interested in any guy, let alone a suit kind of guy. Totally not her type. Hell, she’d had enough of hot men in pricey suits after spending a few weeks working on a mural at a high-end men’s clothing store in New York. One, in particular, had relentlessly flirted with her until she’d gone out with him. After he’d wined and dined her, she’d gone home with him for a weekend of passion, followed by him unceremoniously dumping her.

  Nope, she definitely wanted no part of a guy like him. She cleared her throat. “I should go clean up.” Without waiting for the man’s response, she hurried to the restroom.

  A little soap and cold water later, she was still damp, but clean. Hopefully, the hot guy was gone by now. She left the bathroom then went to apologize to Luna for the mess she’d made.

  “No prob,” Luna said. She handed Sam a bag. “It’s a chocolate croissant.”

  Sam shook her head. “You don’t have to—”

  “Wasn’t me,” Luna said. “The cutie in Brooks Brothers bought it for you and gave me a generous tip. Paying it forward or something, huh?”

  Sam glanced at the door in time to catch a quick glimpse of the suit guy leaving. “That was nice of him.”

  Luna nodded. “Good luck running the store, kiddo.”

  “Thanks.” She’d need it. Minutes later, when she unlocked the door of Eye of Newt and stepped inside, memories bombarded her, both bitter and sweet. As a small child, she’d played jacks on the wide-plank oak floor. More than once, her mother had dumped her with Aunt Emma for months or years on end. How many evenings had she spent drawing at the
round table in the back room while Emma worked?

  Three narrow shelves stretched the entire length of one wall, each packed with large glass jars of neatly labeled herbs and teas. The large apothecary cabinet near the picture window was new, but she was pretty sure that, like the old one had, it held a vast selection of small bottles of essential oils—tea tree, lime, orange, rose.

  The long L-shaped glass display counter held tons of her aunt’s handmade earrings, bracelets, rings, and necklaces on one side, and various items relating to the herbs and oils on the other—aroma diffusers, packs of charcoal, sensors, and incense burners.

  She stashed her bag under the counter, flipped over the open sign, and turned on the lights.

  How in the world was she going to manage running the business for the next ten days? And since when did Emma take vacations? Why hadn’t she told Sam she’d be away? Now she’d have to wait more than a week to get all the details about her aunt’s message and learn why she was so insistent that Sam hold onto the sapphire.

  Before she could dwell on her dilemma, two customers walked in—an elderly woman, and a younger redheaded one—and started browsing. Sam gave them a cursory nod as she searched for the power button on the electronic cash register.

  “Where’s the mugwort?” the senior asked her. “And I need ylang-ylang oil, too.”

  Sam checked the apothecary drawers for labels that started with L. After a minute she gave up. “We might not have that.”

  Huffing, the customer pointed her cane toward the far end of the cabinet. “It starts with a Y. Would you give me a quarter-ounce bottle?”

  The younger woman approached Sam. “What’s good for relaxation?” she asked. “I’ve been having so much trouble sleeping lately.”

  A headache stabbed behind Sam’s eyes. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. If only she’d taken an interest in her aunt’s inventory when she’d lived with her.

  Sam rubbed her temples. “I’ll be right with you, ma’am.” As Sam fished in the cabinet for the oils the older woman wanted, the door chimed again. Yikes. How did Aunt Emma expect Sam to handle this? And why wasn’t there any mugwort in the M drawer?