that had to come from someone who knew exactly who they were. Or something, perhaps, because he couldn’t be sure whether the vibe was coming from Zanna or the house.
Weird...
‘We keep them wrapped in black.’ Zanna’s voice was soft. And close. Nic looked up to see she had a pair of wine glasses dangling by their stems in one hand and a bottle in the other. She held it up in invitation and he nodded.
‘Sure. Why not?’
The wine was red. Blood red. His disquiet kicked up a notch.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘It just seemed like a good idea.’ Zanna wasn’t meeting his eyes. ‘A glass of wine is a nice way to wind down. We could go into the garden, if you like.’
He followed the direction of her gaze. French doors provided a glimpse of a bricked courtyard between the kitchen and a tangle of garden. An intimate kind of space.
‘I’m fine here.’ Nic cleared his throat. ‘I meant why do you wrap those cards in black?’
‘It’s a neutral colour that keeps outside energy away.’ Zanna had filled her own glass and she sat down at right angles to Nic.
‘It’s black magic, right? Witchcraft?’
The flash in those extraordinary eyes was enough to make Nic feel unaccountably apologetic.
‘I don’t believe in witchcraft,’ Zanna said, her voice tight. ‘And calling any of this black magic is an insult to my aunt. Her family can trace its roots back to the sixteenth century. They travelled around and made their living by things like fortune-telling. Aunt Maggie has a very strong affinity with her heritage. I’ve grown up with it and I love Maggie enough to respect it. I see it as another dimension—one that adds some colour and imagination to life and can help people cope with the hard stuff.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Sorry...I get a bit defensive. We’ve had people try and twist things into something they’re not and then use it against her. Against us.’
Nic said nothing. He had a feeling he knew who those people might be. But they were out of the picture now. He was the one who got to decide how things would be handled from now on. Except that he had no idea. Yet. He stared at the cards.
‘I’ve always thought of it as a load of rubbish,’ he admitted. ‘The fortune-telling, that is.’
‘Depends on how you look at it.’ Zanna reached out and touched the pack of cards with her fingertips. ‘It’s about symbols. They demand an active response. You have to think about how you really feel and trying to relate to an unexpected symbol like the picture on a card can make you consider a totally new dimension to a problem. I like to think of them as a tool for self-knowledge. A way of centring oneself, perhaps.’
‘Seeing the future?’ He couldn’t help the note of derision but she didn’t seem to take offence.
‘I don’t believe the future can be seen...but I don’t believe things are necessarily fated to happen either. There are choices to be made that can radically alter the direction you take in life. Big choices. Little choices. So many that you don’t even notice a lot of them but it pays to be aware. Some people think they have no control and they blame others when things go wrong. If you’ve made an active choice and things go wrong, you can learn from that experience and it’s less likely to happen again.’
Like falling in love with the wrong person...
Inviting a complete stranger into your home...
‘If you don’t believe the future can be seen, how can you tell a fortune and say something’s going to happen? Like a new job or overseas travel or...’ he snorted softly ‘...meeting a tall, dark, handsome stranger?’
Was that a reference to himself? Was he flirting with her? Zanna knew the rush of heat would be showing in her cheeks. Did he know how good looking he was? Probably. Nobody could be out there looking like that in a world full of women and not find it incredibly easy to get whatever he wanted. Maybe toying was a better word, then. It made her remember the way he’d been looking at her when he’d been playing with that crystal in the shop. It made her remember the way he’d made her feel. That reawakening of desire.
How far could that go?
How far did she want it to go?
‘Okay...’ She avoided meeting his eyes. ‘First off, I’d probably say that there was an opportunity of a new job or travel or something. You might not have been thinking about it but the idea would be planted and you’d be more open to new ideas because of that suggestion. You might recognise an opportunity and then you’d have a choice. Something would change. You’d either take that opportunity or be more content to stay where you were.’
‘Do you tell your own fortune?’
She smiled. ‘Occasionally. If I have a problem I want to think through. I prefer to have Aunt Maggie read my cards, though. It’s great fun and the best way I know to have a really meaningful conversation. That’s how this whole business started. Way back, before my time here, but I’ve had plenty of people tell me about it. They came to have their cards read and Maggie became a magnet for anyone with a problem. And she’s such a warm and loving person she would offer them tea and cakes at the same time and it all just grew into a way she could make her living.’
She took a sip of her wine and Nic couldn’t look away. He watched her bottom lip touch the glass and the way her throat rippled as she swallowed. He picked up his own glass to find it contained a surprisingly good red wine.
‘Back then,’ Zanna continued, ‘before the city centre spread and the houses gave way to office blocks and hotels, there were streets and streets of cottages. Houses that had big gardens with lots of fruit trees. People kept chickens. Mr Briggs down the road even kept a goat. So many people. This was the big house but everyone was welcome. They all adored Maggie and this place was like a community centre. I remember it being like that when I was young.’
‘But the houses have gone. There’s no community now.’ Okay, it was sad but things changed. Progress happened.
‘Some of the people still come back and talk about the old days. They can’t believe that the house and Maggie are just the same as ever and they love sharing the memories. She always promises she’ll still be here the next time they come.’
She wasn’t here now. If she was, Nic might have been tempted to ask to have his cards read so that he could see if she was as amazing as Zanna made her sound. Had she really helped solve problems for so many people?
‘Can you read the cards?’
Her eyes widened. Surprise or shock? ‘I’ve grown up with them...yes... I’m not as good as Maggie but I can certainly read them.’
‘Would you read them for me?’
The hesitation was obvious. ‘Are you sure you want me to?’
So that they could have a really meaningful conversation? So that he could sit here a while longer and put off thinking about why he was really here? Maybe even find a solution to his own problem?
Nic held her gaze. Long enough for a silent message that had nothing to do with fortune-telling. He wanted more than his cards read and that want was
