She ran her hands over the delicate petals of colorful pansies, smiling. “These are gorgeous. Like little cheerful faces, aren’t they?” She smiled up at him. “You shouldn’t have, though. I know things are tight for you.”
He leaned over, kissing her soundly on the cheek.
“We help each other out—that’s what family does. Use these to make some boxes for out front, and make up a little sign about your flowerboxes. Maybe you’ll get some new business.”
Her heart swelled—she loved him so much, even though they hadn’t known each other very long. True, Ronny had a rough side. He gambled, smoked pot and hung around with a rough crowd. He was on his third job in the past year, but this one seemed to be working out a little better. He had a good heart, she knew that. If only she could get him to see he was worth more than he thought he was.
“Thank you—that’s a great idea. I’ll do that today.” She went to the counter, putting on a pot of coffee. She didn’t drink it but kept it around for Ronny. He snagged the pretty towel she put on the hook that morning on his way through the kitchen, and she straightened it reflexively before reaching up to pull his cup from the spot where she kept it among her neatly arranged cupboards.
“Did you check out that brochure with the college courses I left for you?”
She heard his heavy sigh behind her. Ronny had gotten his GED, but he didn’t seem interested in doing more. Charlotte hadn’t been to college, either, but she liked the jobs she took to make a living. Someday, if she was able, she dreamed of opening her own flower shop, or maybe a greenhouse. But if that never happened, she enjoyed her life just as it was.
But Ronny, well, he needed focus. He needed to do something more productive with his life—just being successful at one thing might make all the difference. That’s what one of his substance-abuse counselors had told her. He needed to build his self-esteem and believe he was worth success. It was her sincere wish to help him be happy, to make his life better. It wasn’t always easy.
“I wish you’d drop that. I’m not college material,” he grumbled.
The same old line. But she wasn’t going to give up, and responded cheerfully.
“What is that supposed to mean? You’re smart—look at the idea you just came up with. Ideas like that could lead to a good job.”
“I have a good job. Working at the docks pays good, and in six months I get benefits.”
She saw the familiar sullen look come into his eyes—they were the same soft brown as hers—as he turned away and backed off. She knew him well enough to know she couldn’t push; he would just withdraw deeper into himself and become surly and unreachable.
“I’m sorry. You do, I know. And it sounds like it’s going well.” She looked at him from under her lashes, gently inquiring as she thought about the cards from his reading. “Things are going well, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.” He glanced around the kitchen, avoiding her eyes. “Um, do you mind if I check e-mail on your laptop?”
Charlotte nodded her head. “Let me boot it up for you.”
“I can do it.” He stood, taking the coffee she handed him. “Got any donuts?”
“You know I don’t eat refined sugars.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t get that.”
He kissed her again, lightly on the forehead, and made his way over to the computer. She cringed a little when he picked it up and plopped it on his lap. It was her prize possession; she’d had to plant a lot of flowers and walk a lot of dogs to pay for that secondhand computer, but it was helping her expand her horizons.
Though she’d sold some things through online auctions for a small profit, her most successful venture so far was reading tarot for her online business, SexyTarot.com. While she was never going to get rich doing tarot readings, she was getting more clients as time went on, and she was helping people, as well. She truly believed that money, while necessary, wasn’t always the most important thing. At first SexyTarot.com had been free, but then repeat clients had wanted to make donations, the equivalent of tipping a waitress, she supposed. Several of them were relatively generous.
She heard Ronny curse, followed by a thunk, and she jumped around to find him hitting the side of the computer’s delicate screen.
“Ronny, please don’t do that!”
“This connection’s so slow. How do you ever get anything done?”
She looked at him and sighed. “Patience, I guess.”
And she needed loads of it, reminding herself that the machine was just a machine, and not worth hurting her brother’s feelings over. Still, she’d worked hard for everything she owned, from the kitchen towel to the laptop, and she treasured her possessions. Still, she’d trade them all rather than lose her brother.
“I think I’ll go out and get started on these flowers.”
“Yeah, you have a ball, doll.”
She smiled, loving when he called her sweet names. It was the first time anyone in her life had ever really used endearments toward her, and it felt like a hug every time. That got her through a lot of rough moments.
She walked outside into the morning sun, thinking about what flowers she could plant first. It would definitely cheer up the dilapidated outside of the building, and be a little advertising for her, as Ronny said. She’d have to get some poster board and make up a sign later.
She opened the bag of potting dirt and sank the trowel in, losing herself in thought as she planted. Connection with natural things eased her mind and improved her mood, as always. And she’d been a little more agitated the last few days. The feeling that things in life were about to shift followed her—the sense that change was on the way. Her cards supported the theory, and she even had an inkling what it might be.
EJB.
That’s the name by which she knew the man who had come to her for readings twice now, and reading for him had touched her deeply. He was a good man. He’d given her a nice donation the very first night, but that wasn’t why he was special. His charisma, intelligence and responsiveness in their conversations had reached out and pulled her in. She felt like they were connected though they had never met.
Charlotte read for a lot of people, and they talked about many intimate things, but she’d never had the sense of involvement that she’d felt with EJB. She wanted to be open to it, even though it scared her a little.
She’d see him again tonight, or rather, talk to him on the chat site where she did her readings. His questions so far had been more subtle than most—the first time he’d asked her “How can I find what I’m looking for?” and the second, “Where is the woman who can give me what I want?”
Right here, handsome.
He was The King of Cups and The Magician all rolled into one. Maybe a bit of The Devil thrown in, as well. No doubt about it, EJB was a sensualist, and a romantic. But she felt that his sensuality was being stifled, poured into other areas of his life, but not finding its fullest expression in love.
Heat
