incredibly kind.”
“He called you a murderer.” She said the words like she’d dropped a bomb in the middle of my kitchen and relished the thought of it going off.
Now I frowned. But she was right. He had indeed. “But he made up for it. No harm, no foul. No hard feelings.”
“Good, because I need your help. Even if you’re a fake, which I’m sure you are, my mother is inconsolable.”
My heart tightened in commiseration with Maggie. She’d been beside herself in the parking lot, and I hated that, so I ignored the crack about me being a fake. “I’m not sure how I can help, Bianca?”
“Mama wants you to contact Papa.”
So soon? He likely hadn’t even settled into the afterlife yet. And even if he had, maybe he’d crossed over and couldn’t be contacted at all.
I fought the tightness in my throat and gripped the phone. “I’d be happy to try, but to be honest, he’s only been gone a few hours. That can make contacting him almost impossible.”
Bianca snorted into the phone. “Right. Listen, lady, I don’t believe in your hokey garbage. Not even a little. But if it makes my mother feel better, if it calms her down enough that we don’t have to worry she’s going to have a heart attack, then make it up as you go along.”
Phew. Talk about no-nonsense. But everything I believed in railed against the very idea of tricking Maggie. “No. That’s not something I can do, or would ever do. I’m not going to lie to your mother. She deserves better than that. I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”
“There’s a lot of money in it for you,” she enticed, as though I could be bought.
Now I bristled, planting my hand on my hip in outrage. “I can’t be bought, Bianca. I don’t talk to the spirits for money. Ask anyone who’s had a reading with me and they’ll tell you, I donate almost all of the cost of my time to several different charities.”
Her cynical laughter rang sharp in my ear. “Everyone can be bought. Listen, what do you need from me? An open vein? All I want you to do is at least try. But if the spirit moves you to make something up once you see how torn up Mama is, to help her recover faster, then all the better.”
Good gravy. Her father had died just a few hours ago and she didn’t even sound like she’d shed a tear since finding him at the food court. But if Maggie was in pain and there was a slim chance I could find Tito, and I didn’t have to lie about it, I’d do it for her—and for my Taco Man.
“Fine. I can fit you in tonight at eight. Please bring something personal of your father’s, like a piece of jewelry, a picture, something he held dear. Does that work for your mother ?”
I stressed her mother due to the fact that Bianca appeared to want to get this over with as soon as possible. Maybe she had a hot date or maybe she just couldn’t be bothered consoling her mother, but she could have at least waited until Tito was buried before she skipped off to the next bit of business needing her attention.
“Yeah. We’ll be there. Make sure you warm up whatever gadgets you use to make the lights flicker—or whatever it is you do.”
A spike of anger sizzled along my spine. “I most certainly do not use a gadget, or any gadgets, for that matter. I’ll have you know—”
Suddenly, I was speaking to dead air.
“She hung up!” I yelped, dropping my Pop-Tart on the counter and brushing the crumbs from my hands to pick up the picture frame. “Can you believe the gall of that woman, Win?”
“I can’t believe the form on that woman,” Win remarked with a wistful sigh. “One swish of those hips—”
Snarling, I pointed at the face of the model in the picture frame. “Not helping, Win! You’d better get your spidey senses in gear and see if you can find a spirit to help us find Tito, because if that woman gives me one iota of grief tonight, I’ll show her just what kind of a fake I am when I cast a hair-loss spell to rival Rogaine’s regenerating
“He called you a murderer.” She said the words like she’d dropped a bomb in the middle of my kitchen and relished the thought of it going off.
Now I frowned. But she was right. He had indeed. “But he made up for it. No harm, no foul. No hard feelings.”
“Good, because I need your help. Even if you’re a fake, which I’m sure you are, my mother is inconsolable.”
My heart tightened in commiseration with Maggie. She’d been beside herself in the parking lot, and I hated that, so I ignored the crack about me being a fake. “I’m not sure how I can help, Bianca?”
“Mama wants you to contact Papa.”
So soon? He likely hadn’t even settled into the afterlife yet. And even if he had, maybe he’d crossed over and couldn’t be contacted at all.
I fought the tightness in my throat and gripped the phone. “I’d be happy to try, but to be honest, he’s only been gone a few hours. That can make contacting him almost impossible.”
Bianca snorted into the phone. “Right. Listen, lady, I don’t believe in your hokey garbage. Not even a little. But if it makes my mother feel better, if it calms her down enough that we don’t have to worry she’s going to have a heart attack, then make it up as you go along.”
Phew. Talk about no-nonsense. But everything I believed in railed against the very idea of tricking Maggie. “No. That’s not something I can do, or would ever do. I’m not going to lie to your mother. She deserves better than that. I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”
“There’s a lot of money in it for you,” she enticed, as though I could be bought.
Now I bristled, planting my hand on my hip in outrage. “I can’t be bought, Bianca. I don’t talk to the spirits for money. Ask anyone who’s had a reading with me and they’ll tell you, I donate almost all of the cost of my time to several different charities.”
Her cynical laughter rang sharp in my ear. “Everyone can be bought. Listen, what do you need from me? An open vein? All I want you to do is at least try. But if the spirit moves you to make something up once you see how torn up Mama is, to help her recover faster, then all the better.”
Good gravy. Her father had died just a few hours ago and she didn’t even sound like she’d shed a tear since finding him at the food court. But if Maggie was in pain and there was a slim chance I could find Tito, and I didn’t have to lie about it, I’d do it for her—and for my Taco Man.
“Fine. I can fit you in tonight at eight. Please bring something personal of your father’s, like a piece of jewelry, a picture, something he held dear. Does that work for your mother ?”
I stressed her mother due to the fact that Bianca appeared to want to get this over with as soon as possible. Maybe she had a hot date or maybe she just couldn’t be bothered consoling her mother, but she could have at least waited until Tito was buried before she skipped off to the next bit of business needing her attention.
“Yeah. We’ll be there. Make sure you warm up whatever gadgets you use to make the lights flicker—or whatever it is you do.”
A spike of anger sizzled along my spine. “I most certainly do not use a gadget, or any gadgets, for that matter. I’ll have you know—”
Suddenly, I was speaking to dead air.
“She hung up!” I yelped, dropping my Pop-Tart on the counter and brushing the crumbs from my hands to pick up the picture frame. “Can you believe the gall of that woman, Win?”
“I can’t believe the form on that woman,” Win remarked with a wistful sigh. “One swish of those hips—”
Snarling, I pointed at the face of the model in the picture frame. “Not helping, Win! You’d better get your spidey senses in gear and see if you can find a spirit to help us find Tito, because if that woman gives me one iota of grief tonight, I’ll show her just what kind of a fake I am when I cast a hair-loss spell to rival Rogaine’s regenerating
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