Authors: Lis Wiehl,April Henry
“Do you have a Nordstrom’s card? Because you earn double points this weekend for anything you charge.”
“Of course. A Nordstrom’s, a Saks, a Macy’s, and all the way down to Office Max. I always fall for that ‘if you open an account today, you can save 10 percent on your purchases.’”
“Yeah, I’m a sucker for that too.” Elizabeth had smiled, a private smile, but she left the room before Cassidy could ask what she was thinking.
C
assidy spent the next few days anticipating the weekend. Her friendship with Elizabeth was clearly going places. It took away some of the hurt of what had happened with Nicole. It wasn’t even so much that Nicole had been rude. It was that she had revealed what she really thought of Cassidy.
She had worked hard for that exclusive, and then Nicole threw all that hard work back in her face. How many times had she given Nicole and Allison tips? Since she didn’t have to worry about whether something was admissible, sometimes Cassidy was even one or two steps ahead of them.
But she wasn’t some ghoul. People had the right to know what had happened. And people—even suspects—had the right to be heard. And she
had
offered the dead women’s relatives a chance to talk. It wasn’t her fault that they declined.
As a reporter, Cassidy was good at compartmentalizing. It was that ability that had allowed her to report on a possible Sarin gas outbreak a few weeks earlier without being overwhelmed by the worry that she herself might be dying. And now, after a day or two, it allowed her to take Nicole’s accusations and put them in a box.
On Saturday she was up early, even though Elizabeth had said the day before that she wouldn’t be able to go until early afternoon. Cassidy made sure her makeup was flawless and her hair casually tousled—a look that took twenty minutes with a blow-dryer, two brushes, and three hairstyling products to achieve. Would Elizabeth want to stop by her condo afterward? Just in case, Cassidy picked up magazines and newspapers, put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and shoved everything else into her bedroom closet.
Finally she took the trolley to where Elizabeth lived in Northwest Portland. It was a five-story brick building that looked like it had been built at the turn of the last century.
After Cassidy knocked, Elizabeth called, “Come in!”
Cassidy pushed open the door to reveal oak floors, mahogany moldings, plaster walls, and ten-foot-high ceilings. The furniture was Mission style—dark slatted oak with brown leather cushions. Cassidy thought of her own condo, which usually seemed sleek and modern. Suddenly it seemed cheap and charmless.
Elizabeth came around the corner. Like Cassidy, she was wearing jeans and a sweater, but Cassidy knew the minute she saw them that Elizabeth’s jeans probably cost three figures and had never been marketed as having a “secret slimming panel.”
Elizabeth’s feet were still bare, and she was towel drying her hair. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I’ve had a crazy morning!” She rolled her eyes.
“What happened?”
A frown darkened Elizabeth’s face. “Just a problem I needed to take care of that took longer than I thought.” Then she smiled at Cassidy and her face smoothed out. “Would you like me to read your tea leaves before we go?”
Cassidy’s stomach did a little flip, but she ignored it. “Sure.”
She followed Elizabeth into the kitchen, trying not to look like she was cataloging everything. The appliances were stainless steel. Gleaming copper pans dangled from the ceiling.
“Have a seat at the breakfast nook,” Elizabeth said as she filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove. Then she set an empty china cup and saucer in front of Cassidy.
“They’re so beautiful,” Cassidy said, touching the delicate edge of the empty cup. The rim and handle were edged in what looked like real gold, and the widest part of the cup was encircled by a delicate band of pink, yellow, and blue flowers.
“That cup and saucer came across in a wagon train with my great-great-great grandparents. They abandoned everything along the way that they didn’t absolutely have to have. But that cup and saucer—they held on to them.” After opening a box of loose tea, Elizabeth set the cup aside and shook the dry leaves onto the saucer. “Now stir the leaves with your index finger and think about the questions you would like to ask.”
Seeing her focused expression suddenly made everything more serious. And Cassidy had so many questions. Should she leave Channel Four? Would she ever get married? Have a child? Be rich?
When the kettle whistled, Cassidy jumped. For some reason, she always felt a little nervous around Elizabeth. Anxious. It was just that Elizabeth exuded so much energy. Next to her, Cassidy felt both less and more. Less exciting. More clumsy. Heavier.
Elizabeth poured the water into a plain white ceramic teapot. “Okay, put the leaves in the pot with your fingers.” After Cassidy sprinkled them on top of the water, Elizabeth replaced the lid. “Now we let it brew.”
“Who taught you to do this?”
“My grandmother. She was a wise woman. Some of my ancestors were actually hanged for witchcraft.”
Cassidy felt a moment’s confusion. “But didn’t you say both your grandmothers died before you were born?”
After the briefest hesitation, Elizabeth smiled. “Oh, I just meant the woman I called my grandmother. She was really my grandmother’s sister. Now pour the tea.”
Cassidy finished pouring, trying not to make a face as she looked at the murky tea with bits of leaves bobbing in it. As a child, she had been a picky eater. She used to worry that a bug had landed in her food without her noticing. The slightest strange texture on the back of her tongue had made her gag, as she imagined tiny struggling legs and wings disappearing down the back of her throat.
“Now we need to let it cool.” Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. “You know, ever since I met you, I’ve been watching a lot more of Channel Four.”
Cassidy’s feelings of flattery were quickly dashed when Elizabeth added, “So who’s that young woman reporter who works there? The one with the long blonde hair?”
Cassidy rolled her eyes. “That’s Jenna. And first of all, she’s not a reporter. She’s just an intern. She’s still finishing college. She’s a total suck-up. But all the men just eat it up, like they can’t get enough.”
“So she doesn’t report stories?”
“Sometimes,” Cassidy admitted reluctantly. “She’s talked her way into a couple of assignments, and she’s always nosing around, looking for more. She’s the kind of girl who practically sticks her chest in the station manager’s face and says”—Cassidy made her voice breathy—“‘I would do absolutely
anything
to get ahead in TV news.’ It’s disgusting.”
Sure, Cassidy herself had striven to get ahead when she was Jenna’s age, but she was sure she had relied on a little more than her hair and cleavage.
“Sounds like she’s the kind of person who tries so hard it backfires on them.” Elizabeth touched the back of Cassidy’s hand. “Okay. The tea should be ready. I want you to sip it while you concentrate on your question.”
And what came into Cassidy’s mind was:
Will I always be lonely?
And she realized she was. Lonely at her core. She had Allison and Nicole and now Elizabeth, she had her job, but she needed something more. She would have labeled it a man, but even when she was dating, she still sometimes felt empty. She lifted the cup to her lips.
“Try not to drink the tea leaves,” Elizabeth cautioned.
“No worries!” Cassidy said, suppressing a shudder. Looking over the rim of the cup, she saw Elizabeth watching her, as dispassionate as a scientist. Cassidy felt queasy. Was she getting sick? Sieving the tea through her teeth and suppressing a shiver, she swallowed the last dregs.
“Okay, all done?” Elizabeth didn’t seem to have noticed anything. She took the cup in her left hand, covered it with her right. Closing her eyes, she swirled it clockwise three times. Her lips moved, and even though Cassidy strained her ears, she did not hear any sound.
Elizabeth lifted her hand and peered into the cup. Cassidy got up to look over her shoulder. Tea leaves were scattered along the rim, sides, and bottom.
Elizabeth rolled the cup between her palms, her face intent. “Look, there you are, Cassidy, riding a wild horse!”
Cassidy followed her pointing finger and tried to see what Elizabeth saw. Obviously, reading tea leaves took training.
“And look! There’s a big wedding bell over your head—and you’re trying to get away from it.” She glanced up at Cassidy, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s like you want to get married, but you really don’t. Because you’re too wild to marry. No man has ever been able to tame you.”
That was so true!
Cassidy thought. And the way Elizabeth put it, it didn’t sound like a negative.
“Hm, that might be changing. I can see that you have recently gotten over a hard, emotional time in your life.”
Cassidy had told Elizabeth about it, at least some of it. But it was like the leaves were telling her friend even more.
“That’s interesting,” Elizabeth murmured.
“What?”
She pointed. “Look at that square. It means you need to be cautious.”
Cassidy looked past the tip of Elizabeth’s perfectly manicured finger. She didn’t see a square, but she nodded.
“But there’s also this triangle, which means good karma.”
Cassidy thought she could see the triangle. Maybe.
Elizabeth rotated the cup, peered closer. “This arrow next to the broken necklace means that you work hard for people to like you, then push away the people you love, because you don’t love yourself.”
That was true. Cassidy did work hard on her friendships. But lately it seemed like it was Allison and especially Nicole who were pushing her away, not the other way around.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“What?” Cassidy scooted closer and squinted at the blobby bits of leaves.
“It’s a cat. That means a false friend. And it’s so close to the rim. That means it’s big. Life changing.”
“Does it tell you who?”
Elizabeth gave her a long look. Cassidy had the feeling that she really knew the answer but was holding back for some reason.
She patted Cassidy’s hand. “I guess the best I can tell you is to watch your back.”
Northwest Portland
N
ic would not let herself think of the pain and bewilderment on Leif ’s face as she had pushed him away. She still had a couple of hours before she picked Makayla up at her folks’ house. The best way to fill the time was to keep busy. So she got on I-405 and headed in the direction of Foley’s condo. There had to be more evidence—but where? There was no sense in searching his place again. They had already been over it with a fine-tooth comb, even looked for hiding places built into the walls, floor, or ceiling. But they had found nothing.
She had to keep busy. Keep her mind off Leif. Breaking things off had had to be done, for his sake. If he found out that she had cancer— and Nic knew in her bones that she did—then he would have stayed with her. No matter what. Even as his love changed to pity, his desire to distance, his joy to a burden. Because that was the kind of man Leif was. Honorable. Dedicated. Nic had worked side by side with him long enough to know that he would never give up once he had committed himself.
If Nic let him embark on this terrible journey with her, she would never know how he really felt. She wouldn’t be able to trust him. For the best of reasons, but still. Nic needed to know that if Leif ever said he loved her, he meant it. A pure, uncomplicated love, not one with an asterisk after it that meant
because you might be dying and I know you need to feel loved
. Besides, she told herself as she cruised by Foley’s condo, even in the twenty-first century, it wouldn’t have been easy. A black woman and a white man still made some people look twice. Even in Portland.
Staring at Foley’s condo, Nic drove in ever wider circles. Here was his gym, but they had already checked out his locker there and found little more than a bottle of dandruff shampoo.
She was doing Leif a favor, really. Aside from the cancer, in some sense Nic was damaged goods—because how could anyone have gone through what she had and
not
be damaged? Leif was the first outsider Nic had told about what happened, how two cute guys offering to buy her a drink after she got off work at a restaurant had led to a night she still didn’t remember, a court case, and the birth of her daughter. She hadn’t dated since. Ten long years of relying on no one but herself. And until Leif had come along, she had been perfectly happy with that.
Nic passed a storage rental place that was only a mile from Foley’s condo building. But they had already checked the records of every storage rental place in the city, and neither Foley nor his fiancée had rented a unit.
Nic had Makayla, and that had to be enough. And there were hard times ahead. Even a nine-year-old knew what the word
cancer
meant. Her daughter didn’t need to deal with all the changes the treatment would bring
and
a new, strange man in her life. Nic and Makayla were a team. The two of them against the world.
And Leif ? Ending this thing now was best for him, too, Nic told herself, as she automatically stopped at a red light. Before it had put down roots. Before he yoked himself to a woman who would need more and more and could give less and less.
Leif would say otherwise, but how could he not need things from her? He would want closeness and honesty and communication. He would want her to bare her heart, share her soul. If she were unhappy, he would try to cajole her, prop her up, until she felt she had to pretend. How long would it be before he became just one more demand among the many that already overcrowded her day?
Nic shook her head. What was she doing, driving aimlessly through Northwest Portland as if she might just stumble over a clue? She obviously wasn’t accomplishing anything, other than wasting government gas.
She put on her blinker and started to make her way back to the freeway. On the way she passed Good Samaritan Medical Center. Two men walked out of the main doors, both of them wearing white coats, loops of stethoscopes sticking out of their pockets.