“What for?” I asked while chewing.
“Helping me yesterday.”
I recalled our weird outing to the cemetery to choose Scrabble tiles.
Leaning forward, her eyes sparkling, she whispered, “I found him.”
“Him?” I sucked the pimento out of another olive, my sandwich forgotten.
“Ike Medd.”
“Ahhhh,” I murmured. Usually her Scrabble letters spelled out messages, but apparently she was convinced that this time they were a name.
“He’s great,” she gushed excitedly. “Smart . Funny. Perfect.”
“How’d you find him?”
“He called.”
“He called?” That was a first. Usually her messages from another realm were a lot more circumspect. “How’d he get your number?”
“He called here.”
I swallowed the olive, almost choking on it.
“I took one claim today and it was him.”
“Sometimes your messages aren’t all that clear,” I said carefully. “Are you sure about—?”
“Don’t doubt my gift,” she interrupted. “He’s it. The one.”
A knot formed in my stomach, heavy and cold. “The one?”
“He’s my match.” She beamed happily. “I’m meeting him tonight.”
I put the olives down. “How do you know it… they… the universe”—I waved my hands wildly, trying to name whatever the source of her information was—“wasn’t trying to warn you about him?”
In an instant her smile turned into a frown. “Just because you aren’t happy doesn’t give you the right to begrudge me mine.”
“I’m not,” I assured her quickly. “It’s just that a lot of your messages are warnings. Most of the them. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Her frown eased. “I appreciate that, but it’s cool. Everything is cool.”
“Where are you meeting him?” I asked. “Somewhere public?”
She cocked her head to the side and regarded me with amusement. “Yes, Mom. Someplace public. He invited me to dinner at the Pizza Palace.”
I nodded my approval. It’s a busy place. “Good.”
Reaching across the table with her good arm, she patted my hand. “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But don’t you think that you’re letting your recent bad luck color your opinion?”
“It’s made me more cautious,” I agreed slowly. “But I also know that paying attention to your predictions has saved my butt.”
“Wow.” She laughed. “You almost sound as though you actually believe.”
I stared into her eyes. “I do.”
She sat back a little taking that in. “Really?”
I nodded. I believe that I talk to animals, that I’ve communicated with my dead sister, and that when Armani told me to “meet the man,” it actually meant that I had to use a leg of lamb to hit an assassin who was trying to kill me. But I couldn’t tell her any of that, so I just said again. “Even ‘thrusts’ was a warning of sorts.”
She shook her head. “No. It was the way to save you. If that paramedic hadn’t performed the thrusts, you could have choked to death.”
I could see that I wasn’t going to win the argument with her, so I just said, “So if Ike Medd called this morning, when did you have time to go get olives?”
“I was keeping them in my desk.”
“Why?”
“Well certainly not because I like them. They’re absolutely disgusting.” The woman who eats candy corn in her Caesar salad shuddered at the thought.
“Then why have them?” I asked, befuddled.
She shook her head. “Sometimes it amazes me how dense a smart girl like you can be.”
I maturely stuck my tongue out at her.
“My best friend has been going through a tough times and I thought she might need them.”
Impulsively, I jumped up and hugged her.
Sure, she’s a kook. And a slacker when it comes to work. But when it comes down to it, Armani Vasquez is a pretty great friend to have.
Chapter 7
After work, I returned to the hospital, hoping to visit with Katie and Patrick. Unfortunately, the first person I ran into, before I even entered the building, was
“Helping me yesterday.”
I recalled our weird outing to the cemetery to choose Scrabble tiles.
Leaning forward, her eyes sparkling, she whispered, “I found him.”
“Him?” I sucked the pimento out of another olive, my sandwich forgotten.
“Ike Medd.”
“Ahhhh,” I murmured. Usually her Scrabble letters spelled out messages, but apparently she was convinced that this time they were a name.
“He’s great,” she gushed excitedly. “Smart . Funny. Perfect.”
“How’d you find him?”
“He called.”
“He called?” That was a first. Usually her messages from another realm were a lot more circumspect. “How’d he get your number?”
“He called here.”
I swallowed the olive, almost choking on it.
“I took one claim today and it was him.”
“Sometimes your messages aren’t all that clear,” I said carefully. “Are you sure about—?”
“Don’t doubt my gift,” she interrupted. “He’s it. The one.”
A knot formed in my stomach, heavy and cold. “The one?”
“He’s my match.” She beamed happily. “I’m meeting him tonight.”
I put the olives down. “How do you know it… they… the universe”—I waved my hands wildly, trying to name whatever the source of her information was—“wasn’t trying to warn you about him?”
In an instant her smile turned into a frown. “Just because you aren’t happy doesn’t give you the right to begrudge me mine.”
“I’m not,” I assured her quickly. “It’s just that a lot of your messages are warnings. Most of the them. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Her frown eased. “I appreciate that, but it’s cool. Everything is cool.”
“Where are you meeting him?” I asked. “Somewhere public?”
She cocked her head to the side and regarded me with amusement. “Yes, Mom. Someplace public. He invited me to dinner at the Pizza Palace.”
I nodded my approval. It’s a busy place. “Good.”
Reaching across the table with her good arm, she patted my hand. “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But don’t you think that you’re letting your recent bad luck color your opinion?”
“It’s made me more cautious,” I agreed slowly. “But I also know that paying attention to your predictions has saved my butt.”
“Wow.” She laughed. “You almost sound as though you actually believe.”
I stared into her eyes. “I do.”
She sat back a little taking that in. “Really?”
I nodded. I believe that I talk to animals, that I’ve communicated with my dead sister, and that when Armani told me to “meet the man,” it actually meant that I had to use a leg of lamb to hit an assassin who was trying to kill me. But I couldn’t tell her any of that, so I just said again. “Even ‘thrusts’ was a warning of sorts.”
She shook her head. “No. It was the way to save you. If that paramedic hadn’t performed the thrusts, you could have choked to death.”
I could see that I wasn’t going to win the argument with her, so I just said, “So if Ike Medd called this morning, when did you have time to go get olives?”
“I was keeping them in my desk.”
“Why?”
“Well certainly not because I like them. They’re absolutely disgusting.” The woman who eats candy corn in her Caesar salad shuddered at the thought.
“Then why have them?” I asked, befuddled.
She shook her head. “Sometimes it amazes me how dense a smart girl like you can be.”
I maturely stuck my tongue out at her.
“My best friend has been going through a tough times and I thought she might need them.”
Impulsively, I jumped up and hugged her.
Sure, she’s a kook. And a slacker when it comes to work. But when it comes down to it, Armani Vasquez is a pretty great friend to have.
Chapter 7
After work, I returned to the hospital, hoping to visit with Katie and Patrick. Unfortunately, the first person I ran into, before I even entered the building, was
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