Enright Family Collection (123 page)

“I read someplace that there are different kinds of vegetarians. What kind of vegetarian are you?” Laura asked as she munched on a piece of celery.

“I’m a lacto-ovo, meaning I do eat cheese and other dairy products and I also eat eggs. And on very rare occasions, I have been known to break down and have a piece of fish.
Lactos,
on the other hand, don’t eat eggs, and
vegans
don’t eat anything that has animal origins.”

“Why did you become a vegetarian?”

Georgia shrugged and tossed the vegetables into the electric wok she’d brought with her and had installed on the counter. “It just seemed healthier to me. People do it for all different reasons. Plus after you do it for a while, meat loses its appeal.”

“Matt always talks about it, but I think he’s too lazy. He says it bothers him to heal animals during the day, and then eat animals at night, but that cooking vegetarian meals is too complicated.”

Georgia laughed. “I hear people say that all the time. It really isn’t any more or any less complicated. It’s just a matter of rethinking how you eat and how you cook.”

The tea kettle screamed and Laura turned off the burner and took down two cups.

“You know, you and Matt really have a lot in common,” Laura mused.

“Oh, I’m sure we do,” Georgia said dryly.

“No, really. You both respect animals, you both love Pumpkin Hill ...”

“And we both love you and Ally. And that’s about it. Now, let’s get dinner on the table and then after we eat, we’ll read our tea leaves and see if there’s a tall dark stranger in either of our futures....”

Dinner was delicious. Even Ally had cleaned her plate. Before the meal was over, Laura had asked Georgia to jot down a few of her recipes for Jody, so that the inn could expand its vegetarian offerings to its guests. Dessert was pound cake served with plums that had been put up by Hope the year before, and warmed on the stove.

“Okay, Laura. Let’s take a look at that cup.” Georgia said after the dessert plates had been cleared.

“Can you see anything?” Laura held the cup on its side for Georgia to take a look.

“Not so fast. There’s a ritual involved here. I’m too much of a novice to take short cuts.” Georgia laughed. “Ah, good, you didn’t drink it all.”

“No, there’s still a little left in the bottom. I remember that my aunt always said you had to have enough tea left to move the leaves around the cup.”

Georgia nodded. “I think that’s enough. That looks like about a tablespoon, and that’s what the book says you’re supposed to have. Now, you rotate the cup three times, holding the handle in your left hand.”

“Clockwise or counter-clockwise?” Laura asked. “I forget, but I do remember that it made a difference. Men turn the cup one way, women turn it the other.”

“Ummm, I think counter-clockwise.” Georgia thought for a minute. “Yes, that’s it. Men turn the cup clockwise, women counter-clockwise. Go head, turn it.”

“Three times?”

“Right.” Georgia nodded. “Okay, that’s three. Now, let’s see what kind of patterns you have there....”

Georgia lowered her head and peered inside the cup. “Now, the handle represents you, as the person whose leaves are being read.”

“I remember that, too, from watching Aunt Hope read.” Laura nodded. “She always said that the symbols nearest the handle were the most important or the most immediate.” Laura pointed into the cup
and said, “And those little dots ... the tiny little pieces of tea leaves ... I think they meant that whatever symbol they are closest to is the most important.”

“Maybe not the most important symbol,” Georgia murmured as she turned the cup this way and that, “but they add emphasis to the meaning of that symbol.”

“Do you see anything?” Laura frowned.

“I do. I’ll tell you what symbols I see, then we’ll go to Hope’s book and look up what they mean.”

Georgia pondered the dark flakes on the inside of the cup, then leaned toward Laura and said, “Here, near the rim—also significant, because the closer to the rim, the stronger the message is said to be—here’s a triangular shape. My first thought was a pyramid, so that’s what we’ll call it.”

“Is there a difference between calling something a triangle and calling it a pyramid?”

Georgia frowned. “I don’t know. I just know that the book says go with your first impression, and
pyramid,
not
triangle,
is what came into my mind. And there are lots of little dots nearby, so it must be important, whatever it means. And down there,” Georgia pointed to the bottom of the cup, “there is an odd shape ... I don’t know, but it kind of looks like a horse’s head to me.”

She held the cup up for Laura to take a look.

Laura nodded. “Yes, I can sort of see a horse’s head, too. Okay, we’ll call it that. What are those other little things?”

Georgia turned the cup around several more times,
looking at the patterns from different angles, then shook her head. “I’m not getting any other impressions. Just the pyramid and the horse’s head.”

“Okay. Let’s look those two things up.”

Georgia flipped through Hope’s handwritten pages of notes, then stopped and smiled and said, “Oh! Good news, Laura. The horse’s head means that a lover is coming.”

Laura blanched, then grabbed the cup. “Let me see that thing again. You know what, on second thought, I don’t think it looks at all like a horse’s head. I think it looks like a blob. What does the book say a blob represents?”

Georgia laughed. “There’s nothing for blobs, and we already agreed that it was a horse’s head. And since it’s on the right side of the handle, it’s a positive thing.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” Laura, still strangely white, motioned with her hand to a puzzled Georgia to proceed. “Okay, forget about the horse’s head for a minute. Go on to the pyramid. What does that mean?”

“Hmmm ... let’s see ...” Georgia scanned the pages, then grinned. “Here it is. Pyramid. It means a great secret will be revealed.”

Laura coughed and went a shade or two whiter.

“It’s something that has held you back in some way, but its revelation will let you move on ...” Georgia looked up, startled to see just how pale Laura had become. “Whoa, Laura. Are you all right?”

“Of course I am.” Laura paused, then asked, “That secret would be finding out that Delia is my mother, right?”

“No, I’m sure that’s not it. That’s no longer a secret.” Georgia shook her head, then picked up the cup again and turned it toward the light. “No, I think that this is a secret that has yet to be revealed.”

Laura took the cup from Georgia’s hand and took it to the sink to rinse it out.

“I always thought this was silly. We’ve had our fun for the night. Ally!” Laura called into the living room where Ally was busy lining up chess pieces along the windowsill. “Put those away, honey. It’s time to go.”

“But, Mommy ...”

“You have school tomorrow, Ally,” Laura reminded her gently.

“Okay.” Ally frowned. “But I do get to come back on Saturday to dance.”

“Yes, you do.”

“With Samantha.”

“If Samantha’s mom agrees.”

“She’ll agree.” Ally nodded confidently, then turned to Georgia and said, “And can we have that music you had?”

“The Chopin. Yes,” Georgia assured her, all the while watching Laura’s face as Laura gathered up Ally’s things in the manner of one preparing to flee a burning building. Whatever had set her off?

“What’s a good time for you, Georgia?” Laura asked without looking at her.

“Ten, eleven. Whatever works. Why not give me a call on Saturday morning and let me know how your day is going?”

“Fine. We’ll do that.” Laura grabbed Ally’s jacket and tossed it to her, saying, “Here, sweetie. Put this on. It’s chilly out.”

“No, it’s not.” Ally looked at her, puzzled.

“Well, I feel chilled ...” Laura met Georgia’s eyes from across the room, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe it’s just me ... okay, got everything? Georgia, thanks for a wonderful dinner ... don’t forget to write down the recipe for me to give to Jody.” Laura kissed Georgia on the cheek as she blew past her in the kitchen doorway.

“Thank you, Aunt Georgia.” Ally waved, and Georgia grabbed her long enough to plant a quick smooch on the child’s upturned face. “I can’t wait till Saturday.” Ally’s voice trailed out the back door, and Georgia followed her.

“Laura—” Georgia called from the back steps. Laura was already at the passenger’s side door and had it open for Ally to jump in.

“I’ll talk to you on Saturday,” Laura called back as she walked hurriedly around the car.

Now what,
a wide-eyed Georgia wondered,
was that all about?
Why, Laura acted like someone being pursued by banshees.

It had been the horse’s head that had set her off, Georgia recalled.

Closing the back door behind her and locking it, Georgia sat at the table and picked up Hope’s book once again, wondering if she had perhaps made a mistake. She closed her eyes, trying to envision the symbol that she had seen in Laura’s cup. That had been a horse’s head, all right. She opened the book again and read the meaning of the symbol aloud. “A lover will be coming into your life.”

She turned the pages back until she located the pyramid.

“No mistake.” She shook her head. “It clearly says a great secret will be revealed, one that has held you back in some way. Once the secret has been revealed, you will be able to move forward....”

Two potentially good things, from Georgia’s point of view. A lover and a secret ...

From Laura’s perspective, however, the reading had obviously meant something entirely different. And whatever its meaning, it had driven her from Pumpkin Hill like one pursued by demons.

Or an unwanted lover.

Or a secret ...

chapter eleven

It wasn’t cool enough for a fire, so the logs that Matt had set upon the fire grate remained unlit. He really wasn’t much of a drinking man, so the beer he’d opened when he returned home from the clinic remained on the kitchen counter, where he’d left it. The stack of mail he’d pulled out of the mailbox sat in a tidy pile on the table in front of the old, dark blue plaid sofa he’d had since his college days, and the TV remained on, the volume turned all the way down, while Matt sorted his options. He could slip his video copy of
The Scarlet Claw
—just maybe the best Sherlock Holmes movie ever made—into the VCR. Or he could finish reading
The Final Problem.

Or he could call Pumpkin Hill and ...

And what?
he asked himself.

Ask
Georgia Enright why she’s still there after he’d told her that he expected her to be gone by today?

And there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she
was
there. That calm but certain defiance that had smoldered in those green eyes until they had burned
with emerald fire—that snap set of her bottom jaw—that solid hands-on-hips, try-and-make-me stance.

Oh, she was there all right.

Nothing about the woman had said Yes
sir, I’m on my way, sir.

All day his nerves had hummed with the frustration of knowing that it was Wednesday, that she was still most certainly at Pumpkin Hill, and that he had no means of forcing her to leave. Even Laura had not backed him up, though he had suspected she would not. And wasn’t that part of the problem, part of what was eating at him now? That Laura had taken Georgia’s side, against him?

Yeah, and who did he have to thank for putting Laura in the middle?

“Me,” he said aloud.

Artie raised his head and looked up at Matt.

Matt looked down at Artie. He sighed with the resignation of knowing that he had made a total ass out of himself by making a pointless demand on Georgia and imposing childish expectations on his sister. Laura would not go back on her word to Georgia, and his own sense of fair play made Matt grudgingly admit that she should not. Like it or not, Georgia Enright was living at Pumpkin Hill, and there she would stay until she decided to leave. The only way to avoid her would be to stay away, and that was one thing he could not do. Pumpkin Hill was his haven, his sanctuary, a place that had always offered peace, a place where he could relax, a place where he could dream and plan for the future.

And besides, he had great plans for that barn. Someday it would be home to the Pumpkin Hill
Veterinary Center, complete with the most up-to-date surgical facilities. He reached under his chair and pulled out the leather binder that held the plans he had drawn up for his animal hospital. The first floor would have treatment areas as well as housing for ailing farm animals—horses, sheep, goats, cows—and state-of-the-art equipment. The second floor would have offices and a sort of big, open conference area, where vets from all over could come to discuss new modes of treatment, and those who were on the cutting edge in the areas of nutrition and holistic veterinary medicine could share their knowledge. If he closed his eyes, he could see it....

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was a delicate face framed in hair the color of candlelight.

Muttering a mild curse to dispel the vision, he reached for the remote control and turned on the video. He’d deal with Georgia Enright on the weekend. Right now, there was
The Scarlet Claw.
Basil Rathbone as Holmes, Nigel Bruce as Doctor Watson. As good as it gets. He settled back to enjoy murder and mayhem as the famed detective journeyed to Canada to investigate the death of Lady Penrose....

Saturday’s noon appointment—routine shots for an Airedale—having been canceled due to illness on the part of the dog’s owner, Matt closed the clinic at twelve-twenty and headed home to pick up his dog.

“Now you listen up, Artie,” he said sternly as he backed out of his narrow driveway, “no more fraternizing with the tenant, you hear? We’re going to keep this all very businesslike, okay? She’s the tenant,
we’re the landlord. We’re not going to play fetch with her and we’re not going to let her scratch behind our ears, you hear?”

Artie drooled onto the scuffed leather seat, then turned his head to look out the window.