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“I’m just going to”—the psychic had begun pulling the hem of her dress up, and at this point was engulfed in the bulky fabric, head and arms no longer visible—"if I could just get this thing off." Her voice was muffled from within the giant garment, and I was relieved to see she wore jeans and a T-shirt beneath it.
“Is that a Snuggie?” Paige asked the writhing mass of fleece in the center of the room. The psychic seemed to be having difficulty.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“Yes please, if you don’t mind.”
I helped pull the enormous dress off over her head, and she took it from my arms and rolled it up, dropping it at one side of the room and then patting her hair. “Not a Snuggie,” she said. “I went off brand, and let me tell you, big mistake.”
“A Slanket?” Paige tried again.
“Not even. This is a Blafghan I got on the Home Shopping Channel, and I cannot recommend it. They made the arm and neck holes too small, and if you manage to get the thing on, you’re practically a prisoner inside it until someone can rescue you. Yet another peril of living on one’s own.”
I exchanged wide-eyed glances with April as I sank into the chair the psychic had indicated for me. Was I doomed to find myself trapped inside an infomercial blanket dress at some point in my future?
“Now sit, and let’s find out why you can’t snag yourself a man,” the psychic said. “I might just have a little spritz.” She lowered herself into a leather desk chair opposite me and turned to a mini fridge behind her, extracting a wine cooler.
“They still make those?” I remembered my mother waxing nostalgic about Bartles and Jaymes, so I’d categorized wine coolers along with sarsaparilla and Ovaltine--drinks that I’d heard of but didn’t think I’d run across in the store any time soon.
“Of course they do,” the psychic said, shaking her head. She downed half the wine cooler and placed it on the table to one side, and then leaned over and opened a drawer. She waved her hand, palm down over the drawer, and closed her eyes, extracting a deck of cards after a moment. “Yep, I figured.” She said this to herself as she began to shuffle the deck between her hands. “The cats like you,” she said to me, and I realized she had a deck of cat tarot cards. “Not a good sign if you’re looking for romance.”
“Wonderful,” I said.
“You!” The psychic barked suddenly, glaring over at the couch.
Paige and April both jolted to upright positions as if they’d been chastised in church for slouching.
“Clap your hands, please. Twice.”
April looked terrified suddenly, and she did as directed. The lights in the room immediately dimmed.
“Clap on,” Paige giggled. “Clap off.”
“And they call me the drunken psychic? Do they call you the drunken doctor?” The psychic delivered this in a dry tone, and I sensed I was about to get a no-nonsense reading. She was not the bumbling nut I’d expected, though she did seem to have an affinity for products sold on infomercials.
“How did she know?” Paige whispered loudly. “She is really good.”
“I am,” the psychic confirmed, “but you’re also one of three family doctors in town. It’s not a stretch that people might recognize you. Plus, I know your mother.”
“Lottie,” Paige muttered, as if her mother was the root of all evil. In reality, she was a nice lady who owned the Muffin Tin in downtown Singletree, and who made the best pumpkin muffins I’d ever had. Lottie was also my boss.
“Shall we get on with it?” The psychic asked me.
“Um, sure.”
“Fifty.”
I felt the confusion draw my brows lower. “Fifty?”
“Readings are fifty dollars. You can Venmo me or I take Zelle.”
Just then, a loud yowl screeched down the hallway, echoing from somewhere deep inside the house. Fear pricked a line down my neck and arms, raising each hair, one at a time. “What was that?” My voice was unfamiliarly tiny.
“That’s Bruno.” The psychic seemed unconcerned. “Take these.” She handed me the deck of cat tarot cards. “Close your eyes and shuffle them. Infuse them with your being.”
If that was a direction I was meant to follow, I was doomed. I did not know how to infuse anything with my being. But I tried, shuffling the cards between my hands.
“Yep, good. Now think about what you want to know. The cats will answer.”
