Page 92 of The Lady on Esplanade
“Well, the good news is that my head hurts and my eyes sting,which means I’m not noticing the pain in my ankle as much.Which, now that I think about it, is actually hurting more than before.”
“That means it’s healing, right?Can I get you a pain pill?It will probably fix the headache, too.”
I shook my head and immediately wished I hadn’t, as it felt like my brain was slamming against the sides of my skull.“I’m good,” I said.
She looked at me with serious eyes.“Dad doesn’t like taking anything, either.He says he’d rather suffer through it.”
I wasn’t sure how much our parents had shared with her about the addiction tendencies I shared with Jack, so I was careful how I responded.“I just don’t like depending on anything to make me feel better.The pain’s not that bad.Really.”I took another sip of coffee so she wouldn’t see me grimace.
Sarah pushed a plate of Jolene’s reheated muffins toward me.“Are we still planning on going to the Esplanade house today with Cooper?”
I felt physically ill.“I’d rather not.I’m still trying to process everything, and I don’t think I’m ready to see him.I haven’t heard from him, either, which makes it easier not to think about him.”
She placed a muffin on her own plate and began picking at it, pinching off bites and putting them in her mouth.“You sound like Mom.She’s, like, the queen of procrastination.Not that I would ever say that to her face.”
I grunted, not yet ready to engage before I’d had at least a full cup of coffee.I opened my phone to my messages, then slid it over.“Could you please read these texts from Jolene and paraphrase for me?My puffy eyes are messing with my vision.”
Sarah scrolled down the page, pausing occasionally to smile or frown, before finally looking up.“Bottom line: She’s had a great time and so has Jaxson, but she’s coming home today because she feels guilty about leaving you and me here to fend for ourselves.”Sarah shrugged, examining the muffin crumbs on the table and the remnantsof our meals and snacks in the living room.“Not sure what she means, since I don’t think we’ve been in starvation mode or anything.Anyway, she just left, so it’s too late to tell her to stay.”
I struggled to assemble my brain cells.“She’s on her way?Now?”I looked around at the mess and at the forbidden mug in front of me.
Sarah had already jumped up and begun collecting dirty plates and glasses.“Don’t worry.I have a lot of practice with making a room look ready for inspection.Dad and I do it all the time when Mom tells us she’s coming home early.”She paused, her eyes wide with excitement.“And now we’ll have a car, so we can go to the house on Esplanade.As soon as we tell Jolene why we want to go, she’ll be happy to drive us.Maybe we can stop by to talk with Joan and Honey first, to ask them about the wig.Do you want to call before we leave?”
“I don’t…”
She picked up my phone again and typed in the password—it wasn’t surprising that she knew what it was—and began scrolling through the contacts.“Their last names are Meggison and Wentzel, right?I don’t see them on here.”
“That’s because I don’t have them on my phone.I guess we’ll have to wait.”
Sarah regarded me with a look of hurt and disappointment.“I know you don’t want to do this now, but I’m leaving on Sunday.And you did promise.”
I sighed heavily.“Fine.You’re right.Honey wrote her number on a piece of notepaper that should still be in my backpack.”
She jumped up and retrieved the backpack from the hat stand in the front room, then handed it to me.“Keep tidying up while I look.The living room isn’t going to clean itself.”Ignoring her exaggerated groaning, I stuck my hand into my backpack, searching for the small, folded piece of paper.I rarely cleaned out my backpack except in moments like this, when I was trying to find something in the mess, or when it became too heavy.I began pulling out the contents and placing them on the table—my wallet; my travel coffee mug, whichprobably needed washing; an empty pack of gum; a full pack of gum; a lipstick.I examined the lipstick, not having to wonder who had put it in there or why.I found the crumpled paper at the very bottom, wedged into the creases of a cloth bag held closed with a tied string.
“I found the phone number,” I called out as I placed the paper on the table.Then I opened the bag and watched as two stones—one black and one pink—fell onto the table.They’d been given to me by Madame Zoe, and just as quickly forgotten.I looked inside the dark crevices at the bottom of the backpack and pulled out the second pouch.I remembered Beau handing it to me, outright dismissing the stones and everything Madame Zoe had told us.I’d tossed his pouch into my backpack and forgotten it along with mine.
I untied the string and watched as a green stone and a purple crystal slid out of the bag.I picked up the purple one—amethyst, Madame Zoe had said.Used for enhancing psychic powers.No wonder Beau had wanted nothing to do with the stones.
“What’s that?”Sarah asked, pausing next to me while carrying two folded tray tables to the stand on which they were kept in the corner of the dining area.
“Some kind of psychic-healing stones.Madame Zoe gave them to Beau and me.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at them, making me uneasy.
“What is it, Sarah?What’s wrong?”
“That phone call.From Bonnie.She said to ‘find the stones.’ ” Her worried eyes met mine.
I picked up the obsidian and rose quartz the psychic had given me, and I rubbed them together in my hand.“But why would Bonnie want us to find them?It’s not like they were lost or anything.I’ve been carrying them around in my backpack ever since Madame Zoe gave them to us.I would have discovered them sooner or later.”
I closed my fist, as if I could squeeze out the answer like juice from a lemon.But when I opened my fingers, the stones remained cold and mute on my palm.
Sarah returned the trays to the stand, her expression thoughtful.“Can you think of any other stones?Just because you happened to pull these from your backpack doesn’t mean they’re the ones Bonnie was talking about.I mean, maybe she’s referring to stones you’re using on one of your renovation projects?”
I rubbed the stones together again as I thought, wishing that I could call Cooper to discuss possibilities.My dad thought that Cooper was excellent at unraveling perplexing mysteries.He’d even earned an acknowledgment in one of Jack’s books for decoding the cryptic markings in an old mausoleum.
As if I had conjured him, my phone buzzed with a text from Cooper.At the sight of his picture, my head was barraged by too many emotions to name, leaving me mostly numb.
