Read Five Fortunes for Free Online Page A

was a third-grade teacher, retired, and the reason she wore that dashing head scarf was that she was recovering from brain surgery. The daughter, Carol, was a Beverly Hills attorney. She wore a large diamond on her right hand, but there was never mention of a husband. She must be a hell of an attorney, Carter thought, to be able to take such expensive care of her mother.
    Carol had a blissful expression on her face and some sort of oil in her hair. She sat chewing happily on a salad.
    “What have you been up to this morning?” Rae asked her.
    “I just had a face treatment,” she said and sighed.
    32
    Five Fortunes / 33
    “Who do you have?”
    “Inga.”
    “She’s wonderful, I had her last year.”
    “Does anyone have Solange?” Carol asked.
    “I do,” said Rusty.
    “My massage woman told me Solange reads palms, but she’s not supposed to let anybody know.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know. But I’d love to have my palm read!” said Carol.
    “I don’t think I would,” said Carter.
    “They never tell you stuff you shouldn’t know.” Carol had made a specialty of psychics. In her time she had had her tarot cards read, had a Chinese guru in Marin throw her I Ching, had her astrological chart done annually, and spent a good deal of money at a numero-logist’s.
    “Which is best?” Rae asked.
    “I don’t think it matters, it’s about talent.” Carol uncrossed her endless legs and turned her chair so she faced the sun.
    “And what have you learned?” asked Carter. She had dealt with a lot of psychics, almost all of them bunco artists. But there were bunco doctors and lawyers too, after all. That didn’t prove there weren’t any real ones…suddenly she could picture herself uttering such a sentence to DeeAnne. DeeAnne, sleek and glossy, with her long purple nails, would rock back in her orthopedic chair and hoot,
    “ What did they put in the water out there?”
    “No, seriously,” Carol was saying, “there’s a center of spiritual energy, just about thirty miles from here. There are only seven in the world. The Indians knew all about them. So did the Egyptians, there’s one where they built the pyramids. I’m going to ask her to do a private reading for me.”
    “Honey,” said Rusty, “you need some sunblock.”
    “What’s next?” Carter asked the group.
    “I’ve got my massage,” Rae announced with satisfaction.
    Carol consulted the schedule pinned to her bag.
    “I’ve got herbal wrap,” she said.
    “So do I,” said Carter. “What the hell is it?”
    34 / Beth Gutcheon
    “Follow me,” said Carol. She started off to the bathhouse, and Carter lumbered after her.
    They left their bags and all their clothes in lockers. An attendant gave them each a heated robe. In the herbal room, two more attendants waited. A body was lying on a treatment table, wrapped up so that only its nose was showing. Carter had seen things like this at the morgue.
    The attendant signaled to Carter to hand over her robe. She was beginning to get used to being naked in front of strangers, although she had spent her whole high school career trying to sneak out after basketball without taking a shower because she hated how the pretty little ones with their perky breasts pranced in and out of the sprays of water, while great, ungainly Carter stood around feeling like a horse.
    She lay on her back on the cot and the attendant folded around her the fleecy flannel sheet on which she was lying. Steaming-hot towels were brought and wrapped around her, then a blanket put over it all.
    “Claustrophobic?” whispered the attendant. Carter shook her head no. Later Carol explained that some people fear they are being embalmed, and start screaming.
    Carter, however, loved the feeling of being cocooned. The towels smelled of spices, and she thought of mysterious herbs and occult arts, and began to picture herself as Nefertiti. The attendants were her adepts, mysterious healers privy to ancient lore. Her mind slipped