Page 26 of The Sun and the Moon
Sydney’s lip does a little twitch. It’s a tremor of nerve runningthrough her face. “You said bad luck wasn’t real, but you yourself are basically a charm against it for anyone who comes knocking on your door.”
My mother’s eyes gleam with pleasure. There’s nothing she loves more than talking someone in circles until they come out on the other side believing in her powers of otherworldly perception.
“What do you imagine a person who comes to a psychic seeking information about, say…” Her voice trails off, as if she’s thinking of an example, but I know good and well that she’s not. Her eyes slide to me, and I glare back. “Their soulmate? What do you think they are actually hoping to find?”
“A time, a date, and a place,” Sydney quips. I am impressed she’s holding her own against direct questioning from a soul devourer.
“Funny.” My mother’s chuckle is melodic. “Really, though?”
Sydney considers her. Really looks at her.
“Answers,” she says, finally. “You tell them what they want to hear. Of course that gives them hope.” Sydney shifts in her chair, leaning in. “Just like my birdie pin makes me feel safe when I’m in the air.”
“You don’t question that, but you do question me.”
“I have to question you,” Sydney replies.
“Birdie, come on, now,” Rick says, giving her a verydadlook that says,Don’t embarrass me.
Moira pats his hand, never missing a beat.
“Of course you do,” my mother replies.
I have the distinct urge to step in and help Sydney. Take some of the heat. My mother is aware Sydney doesn’t trust her—and it has nothing to do with how she makes her money. Or at least it’s not solely about that for Sydney, who is clearly protective of herdad, even if that should really be the other way around. All of this has been Moira’s way of getting her to admit it.
“Shouldn’t we toast?” I say, holding up my glass in a desperate attempt to remind them that booze is considered social lube for a reason. “The existence of luck may be debatable, but my thirst isn’t.” I lift my glass, and Rick seems to be the only one listening. Moira and Sydney are locked together like birds of prey battling it out midair for a carcass.
“Questioning is a good instinct,” Moira says. Sydney’s face pinches in annoyance and what appears to be a whiff of disdain. “Everything should be questioned. Examined and inspected.”
That’s rich coming from her. As far as I remember, Moira believes in absolute truth.
Hers.
“We should probably toast to the four of us,” Rick says, sounding nervous. He’s looking at me for help.
“Not everything needs to be questioned,” Sydney says, her eyes laser focused on Moira.
“Why on earth not?” my mother asks, the edges of her lips playing with the idea of a smile.
“Because some things are too important to pick apart.” Sydney leans back. She looks like she’s questioning something right now, and she really doesn’t want to be. A curiosity rises in my mind, wanting to ask what it is.
“When people come to me looking for answers, that doesn’t mean I tell them what they want to hear,” Moira says. The Mona Lisa smile is back in full force. “But they aren’t afraid to ask. They are there to listen, to work in collaboration with the Universe.” She raises her glass. Ready to toast on her final words.
Round one is over. My mother may not know what game she’splaying, or that she’s also going up against me, but she definitely knows one is in motion.
“Everything that is meant for you will find you,” she finishes.
“Hear! Hear!” Rick says, audibly relieved as he twines his fingers with hers.
He clinks his glass with Moira’s before turning to us. The last thing in theuniversethat I want to do is toast to a Moira win. When I look over at Sydney, I can tell she feels the same, but any other action would make us look like jerks and could potentially alert both of our parents to the notion that we aren’t one hundred percent behind this engagement.
“Cheers,” Sydney says, her voice flat.
“Bottoms up,” I offer.
The musical chime of glass on glass signals the end of round one.
Moira is now in the lead.
