starting to get suspicious about Minnie.”
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I love the little fur ball. Minnie the Mouser had been Dottie’s cat until Dottie had moved into government housing that didn’t allow pets. For a while Minnie had been the office cat, and Dottie had worked for me part-time; that way she could spend time with her beloved cat and earn a little extra spending money. And it really was a little money. She didn’t want to lose her benefits or her housing, so I got a high-level clairvoyant for practically a song.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Check with Dottie; see if she’s willing to work for us again, on the same terms as before. Tell her that Minnie can stay at my place until we get an office.”
Dawna grinned and nodded. She loved Dottie like another grandma.
The next candidate knocked before we could say anything further, and we dove back into the whirlwind of interviewing. Some applicants were better than others, but none were particularly outstanding. I was glad when we were finally finished at twelve thirty.
I turned to Dawna. There were so many things we really needed to talk about, but there just wasn’t enough time. “I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. But I have that big family conference call soon and I’m already cutting it close—I’ll have to stick almost to the speed limit to get there on time. Do you maybe want to come by the house this evening and we can talk over a pitcher of margaritas?”
“Are you sure you’re going to be up for a chat after dealing with your mother?”
I gave her a rueful look. “Girlfriend, after dealing with my mother I’m going to need margaritas. Say seven o’clock?”
“Sounds good. Do you need to eat something before you go?”
“I’ll wolf down some baby food in the car.”
“All right, just make sure you do. You don’t want to go all vampity on a conference call with your mom.”
She was right. The call was going to be bad enough without having to worry about that.
7
Birchwoods is a very exclusive mental health facility located on a huge swath of land outside the city. It has the kind of security required by rich and famous people who actually value their privacy. If you want your therapy or rehab to be showy and in the public eye, you go somewhere else. If you want secrecy to the grave and beyond, you go to Birchwoods.
In the decades the facility has been in business there has only ever been one security breach, and the bad guys had had to murder a guard and cut off his hand to accomplish it. My best friend, Vicki Cooper, had lived at Birchwoods for years. It had been the only place where she could control her clairvoyant abilities enough to be truly at peace.
Having been there so often, I knew the fastest and best routes to the place, but even with that advantage, I barely made it there on time. I twitched with impatience, my fingers tapping irritably against the steering wheel, as the guards put me through the security protocol: spray me with holy water, check my ID, make sure I had an appointment, have me sign in using a silver pen.
I drove up the winding road to the parking lot near Gwen’s office faster than I was supposed to and smoothly pulled into one of the few open spots. I knew I should slather on some sunscreen, but I was about to be late, and it wasn’t that far to the building’s front door. So I just jumped out of my car and dashed across the pavement. I was happy to get under cover when I reached the entry—the sun, practically straight overhead, was plenty bright and hot.
Katy, the receptionist, knew that Gwen was expecting me and just waved me through the main doors. I hurried down the corridor, arriving in Gwen’s office breathless and only a little sunburned.
Gwen smiled when she saw me, shaking her head slightly in exasperation. Still, she didn’t scold me about my appearance or my last-second arrival.
“Good afternoon, Celia.”
“Hi, Gwen.” I didn’t apologize. I had
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I love the little fur ball. Minnie the Mouser had been Dottie’s cat until Dottie had moved into government housing that didn’t allow pets. For a while Minnie had been the office cat, and Dottie had worked for me part-time; that way she could spend time with her beloved cat and earn a little extra spending money. And it really was a little money. She didn’t want to lose her benefits or her housing, so I got a high-level clairvoyant for practically a song.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Check with Dottie; see if she’s willing to work for us again, on the same terms as before. Tell her that Minnie can stay at my place until we get an office.”
Dawna grinned and nodded. She loved Dottie like another grandma.
The next candidate knocked before we could say anything further, and we dove back into the whirlwind of interviewing. Some applicants were better than others, but none were particularly outstanding. I was glad when we were finally finished at twelve thirty.
I turned to Dawna. There were so many things we really needed to talk about, but there just wasn’t enough time. “I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. But I have that big family conference call soon and I’m already cutting it close—I’ll have to stick almost to the speed limit to get there on time. Do you maybe want to come by the house this evening and we can talk over a pitcher of margaritas?”
“Are you sure you’re going to be up for a chat after dealing with your mother?”
I gave her a rueful look. “Girlfriend, after dealing with my mother I’m going to need margaritas. Say seven o’clock?”
“Sounds good. Do you need to eat something before you go?”
“I’ll wolf down some baby food in the car.”
“All right, just make sure you do. You don’t want to go all vampity on a conference call with your mom.”
She was right. The call was going to be bad enough without having to worry about that.
7
Birchwoods is a very exclusive mental health facility located on a huge swath of land outside the city. It has the kind of security required by rich and famous people who actually value their privacy. If you want your therapy or rehab to be showy and in the public eye, you go somewhere else. If you want secrecy to the grave and beyond, you go to Birchwoods.
In the decades the facility has been in business there has only ever been one security breach, and the bad guys had had to murder a guard and cut off his hand to accomplish it. My best friend, Vicki Cooper, had lived at Birchwoods for years. It had been the only place where she could control her clairvoyant abilities enough to be truly at peace.
Having been there so often, I knew the fastest and best routes to the place, but even with that advantage, I barely made it there on time. I twitched with impatience, my fingers tapping irritably against the steering wheel, as the guards put me through the security protocol: spray me with holy water, check my ID, make sure I had an appointment, have me sign in using a silver pen.
I drove up the winding road to the parking lot near Gwen’s office faster than I was supposed to and smoothly pulled into one of the few open spots. I knew I should slather on some sunscreen, but I was about to be late, and it wasn’t that far to the building’s front door. So I just jumped out of my car and dashed across the pavement. I was happy to get under cover when I reached the entry—the sun, practically straight overhead, was plenty bright and hot.
Katy, the receptionist, knew that Gwen was expecting me and just waved me through the main doors. I hurried down the corridor, arriving in Gwen’s office breathless and only a little sunburned.
Gwen smiled when she saw me, shaking her head slightly in exasperation. Still, she didn’t scold me about my appearance or my last-second arrival.
“Good afternoon, Celia.”
“Hi, Gwen.” I didn’t apologize. I had
Similar Books
