Read Online Knock on Wood by Linda O. Johnston - Free Book Online Page B

all, buying into this superstition stuff too much around here. But it was a good thing at least to know about it enough to discuss it with the tourists and anyone else.
    Like Justin.
    And the fact that the black cat was outside in the rain? Well, I already knew some of the omens that might mean. But poor cat. Did it like getting wet?
    I’d thought again of when I particularly had reason to worry about Destiny’s black cat—or one of them if they were plural. I’d seen it up on a mountain under less-than-desirable circumstances. Was this one it? Did it always survive? Which of its nine lives was it on?
    I’d heard rumors of someone I might be able to ask, but she had turned out as elusive as the cats. I hadn’t met her yet, if she existed. I assumed, from local residents’ attitudes when I’d dared to ask, that it was probably considered bad luck to talk about her.
    â€œSo what do you think?” Justin asked as we reached the door to the Lucky Dog. We’d been walking relatively quickly, making our way through the crowd even though the rain wasn’t particularly heavy. “Did your talk have anything to do with this unpredicted rainfall?”
    â€œWas it unpredicted? I hadn’t checked the news.” Not even this week’s issue of the Destiny Star that contained, along with its local news, a weekly weather prediction.
    I had looked to make sure that one of its owners was at my talk, so I figured there would be a story about it in their next edition. I was sure they’d feel safe reporting about something so uncontroversial.
    â€œI wasn’t aware of it,” Justin said, “and we always talk about potential changes in the weather each morning at the station.”
    â€œAll right, then. Let’s say that my talk, and descriptions of those pet-related superstitions, did cause this.” My back toward the door to my shop, I gestured around. Justin laughed. I turned toward him. There were too many people around for us to share a kiss goodbye. But …“Care to join Gemma and me for dinner tonight?” I asked.
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    Smiling, I turned—only to see the door to my shop open. I stepped back, expecting to see a customer come out.
    No one did.
    And when I stepped forward I saw no one near the door.
    Justin hadn’t taken off yet. I looked at him.
    â€œIsn’t there a superstition about doors that open by themselves?” I asked.
    â€œYou’re more of an expert these days than I am,” he said, “but yes. It’s supposed to be a sign that you’re going to get a visitor.” Cop that he was, he stepped toward it and looked around inside but didn’t seem particularly alarmed.
    â€œWell, that’s fine,” I said as he turned to face me again. “That visitor will probably be another customer.”
    â€œOr not. The way I understand the superstition is that the person who’ll show up is not someone you want to have around.”

    Our dinner that night at the Shamrock Steakhouse went well. Justin and I, and our dogs Pluckie and Killer, were joined on the crowded—and fortunately well-covered—patio by Gemma and her companion for the night, Stuart. The rain had lessened but a heavy mist still drifted downward.
    We’d briefly thought of introducing Gemma to the Black Cat Inn’s restaurant but immediately discarded the idea since that inn was where Frank was staying.
    No use inviting bad luck. And we had no reason to believe that Frank had left town.
    During our meal, we talked about Gemma’s new potential career. “Yes, I’m staying for now,” she said. “I even got my boss’s okay to come back when I’m ready, just like you did.” She grinned.
    â€œGreat!” I said, knowing I might never take advantage of that promise I’d received from the manager of the MegaPets store I’d worked at in L.A.
    Later, Justin and Killer walked us