Blood Red. Heather Graham

      Susan offered a slight smile in return. “Life is normal, the cycle of life is normal, the air we breathe is normal. So many things are normal, including much that we don’t understand yet.”

      “You have a beautiful face,” Lauren heard herself blurt out.

      Susan inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the compliment. When she lifted her eyes again, she smiled. “You’re artists?”

      “I’m a graphic designer, actually,” Deanna said. “Heidi and Lauren can draw anything in the world, though. They’re fabulous.”

      “And you’d like to sketch me?” Susan asked, looking at Lauren.

      “I’d love to.”

      “That’s not why we’re here, though,” Heidi said.

      “Ah, yes, the future,” Susan said. She lifted her hands. “What will it be? Would you like a reading of your palm? Or shall we see what’s in the cards? And then, of course, there is always the crystal ball.”

      “We should each do something different,” Deanna suggested.

      “Tarot cards,” Heidi said.

      “I’ll take a palm reading,” Deanna determined.

      Lauren shrugged. “Crystal ball.”

      Susan nodded, indicating several small fold-up chairs inside the tent. “Lauren, you are welcome to sketch. I’ll begin with the bride.”

      Lauren always carried a small sketch pad in her handbag, but she wondered how Susan knew that, and she was slightly disturbed. Or slightly more disturbed, if she were being honest Then she told herself that Susan already knew they were artists. Guessing that she carried a sketch pad was just a logical assumption. No doubt most people who did this kind of thing for a living learned how to assess people, how to read a great deal in a few words and intuit where to go from there.

      Deanna had unfolded the little wooden chairs. She sat on one side of Heidi, while Lauren backed her chair away a bit and took out her sketchbook. As she sat, watching Susan instruct Heidi on how to choose her cards, she could hear the sounds around them. Music in the distance, coming from the bars. People talking, then stopping to ooh and aah at the artwork available on the street. Across from them, near the Cathedral, a lone flutist had set down his cap, and now he performed a plaintive and beautiful tune.

      She looked up at the sky. Clouds still rode heavy over the moon, like a red curtain in the air.

      She studied Susan. The woman was soft spoken. Elegant. Not at all what she had expected. Her pencil moved over the paper. She drew the lines first, then filled in the shades and shadows. Finally she added background, the greenery around the Square, the sidewalk, the tent, the statue of Andrew Jackson rising far behind Susan’s back.

      “Ugh! What does that mean?” Heidi asked, drawing Lauren’s attention to the table, where Heidi had turned up a card with a skeleton.

      “It’s…death, isn’t it?” Heidi asked.

      Susan shook her head. “It often signifies change, an ending so that there can be a new beginning. You are about to end your single life. You will start into a new life.”

      “Whew,” Heidi murmured. Though she spoke lightly, Lauren thought she was seriously relieved, and she felt a new wave of discomfort.

      “What’s that?” Deanna asked, pointing to another card.

      “Love.” Susan looked at Heidi. “You can rest assured in this—your fiancé loves you very much. You are all he has ever wanted, all he could ever need in life.”

      “Oh,” Heidi breathed happily. “Ditto.”

      “Yes, I can see,” Susan murmured.

      “Will the wedding go off without a hitch?” Heidi asked.

      “No wedding goes off without a hitch,” Susan said dryly as she scooped up the cards, patting them back into a neat pile. “But you are deeply loved, and you love deeply in return.”

      “Thank you.” Heidi rose and looked at Lauren with an expression on her face that plainly said, See? Nothing to be afraid of.

      Lauren smiled back weakly, wondering if Heidi had really been listening. Susan hadn’t said anything specific about Heidi’s wedding at all—she had just generalized about weddings. And she had said the skeleton card often indicated a change.

      Then again, Lauren told herself, maybe she was the one hearing words that weren’t being said.

      “On to the palm,” Deanna said. She and Heidi changed seats. As Deanna started to sit down, she glanced at Lauren’s drawing and frowned.

      “What is it?” Lauren asked.

      “Uh, nothing, I guess. It’s a great drawing. It’s just that…well, you made the skeleton card the focus of it.”

      “I did not!” Lauren protested and looked down at the sketch. It was one of her best, she thought. She’d captured not just a two-dimensional image but given it great depth. She’d found the strange and arresting beauty that was Susan’s. She’d caught the atmosphere of the Square. You could look at the drawing and almost hear music.

      And yet…

      Deanna was right. Somehow she had detailed the tarot card down to the finest line so that it unerringly drew the viewer’s eye and became the focus of the picture.

      “Don’t draw me,” Deanna whispered to her.

      “Okay,” Lauren assured her quietly in return.

      Susan was watching them both. Deanna noticed and gave her a rueful smile. “Lauren was engaged once.”

      “And her young man died,” Susan said. Wow, damned good guess,

      Lauren thought irritably. Though it was a fifty-fifty shot. Either they’d broken up or he had died. She knew that she was just one of many young women of her day. She’d fallen in love with a soldier. He’d gone to war. They’d emailed for six months, and then she’d stopped receiving replies.

      Until the army lieutenant had come to her house.

      She’d gone through it all. The devastation, the anger. And the healing. She didn’t feel that she had any terrible psychological hang-ups. She just wasn’t actively looking to find love again. But if the right person came along…

      Would she be ready?

      She really didn’t know.

      “I’m so sorry,” Susan said to Lauren gravely. She was clearly sincere, making Lauren feel vaguely guilty, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

      “Thank you,” she said, ignoring her uncomfortable feelings. “But, hey, that’s the past, and we’re looking to the future, right? What does Deanna’s hand say to you, Susan?”

      Susan studied Deanna’s palm and looked up gravely.

      “What?” Deanna asked impatiently.

      “So far, it has told me that you do not like housework at all,” Susan said.

      Even Deanna laughed. “Okay, I suck. Seriously, I’m really bad at it, so I gave it up.”

      “Don’t worry, she has a wonderful woman who comes in twice a week,” Heidi assured Susan.

      Susan traced a finger down a line in Deanna’s hand.

      “The life line, right?” Heidi asked.

      Susan shrugged.

      “It doesn’t look very long,” Deanna said worriedly.

      Susan shook her head, looking at Deanna. “Often, things are what we make them. The line…it’s like the card. It might not mean anything bad at all. It signifies change. A change in life. Heidi is getting married.”

      “I’m