Realty. I hear you’re new in town.”
David nodded, returning the smile. “We’ve been here a week.”
Kimberly came out the front door and joined them. After a few minutes of small talk, she said, “Come on inside, Jenna, while these guys lift the hood on the Dodge.”
She took Jenna through the living room, down the hall to the cheerful master bedroom decorated in cream and pale green. Kimberly knocked a pile of underwear and socks off a straight-back chair against the wall. “Look at this,” she said. “It’s bad enough I’ve got to clean up after three boys.” She carried the chair over to the computer, set it next to the low, wheeled chair already positioned there.
Jenna sat in the straight-back. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Miles cleans his room about every fourth or fifth time I tell him to. David’s a little sloppy, but I let it pass because he’s so good about taking the garbage out and helping me in the kitchen.”
Kimberly said, “That’s why I can only work part-time at the store. Harry does very well at real estate—we’d be okay if I didn’t work. But the extra money is nice, you know? Full-time money would be even nicer, but I don’t have time . This house would totally fall apart if I worked full-time. Nobody here would survive a week— they wouldn’t know how. They would all die. It would be all over the news, and Rush Limbaugh and Dr. Laura would blame me because I wasn’t home wiping their butts for them.”
Jenna’s laughter was quiet at first, but got louder as Kimberly went on. It felt good to laugh so hard, and she enjoyed the feeling while it lasted.
“I’m not kidding—they wouldn’t survive their morning rituals without me,” Kimberly said. She moved the mouse slightly over the pad on the desktop and opened her Internet browser, nodded her head toward the computer monitor. “There are a lot of local psychics on the Internet, a lot more than I expected to find. Mediums aren’t as plentiful, but there are several. Some mediums call themselves ‘channels,’ and there are quite a few of those, too. But in the Humboldt County area, the most common are psychics. I did a little reading up on all of them, and I don’t think a psychic is what you need. There are psychics who read the future, psychics who advise, and psychics who can help you find your lost dog. Some claim to have spirit guides—the spirits of dead people who give them information from the other side—but they don’t talk to the dead, not the way you want to. For that, you need a physical medium. Or a channel. But the ones who call themselves channels tend to give off a New Agey vibe that really turns me off. Unless you’re into that. Are you?”
Jenna frowned. “Into what?”
“All that New Age stuff. You know, crystals, aromatherapy, Shirley MacLaine, unicorn art.”
“Definitely not.”
“I’m not too sure about the mediums, either, but at least they don’t give the impression they genuinely believe Yanni to be good music, you know what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“So I bookmarked all the local mediums who have Web sites, and here—” She picked up a white sheet of paper off the desk and handed it over to Jenna. Printed on the page was a list of names, telephone numbers, and street addresses. “From the Yellow Pages, I made a list of the ones who don’t.” Kimberly clicked on the top of the list of bookmarks. “I’ve already looked at all these. Let’s go through them, and I’ll show you the ones I think smell bad. Like this first one.”
A little animated naked man wearing a turban and sitting in the lotus position floated in the center of the screen, bobbing lightly in the virtual air, grinning. Above him arced the name ANTHONY WALL-COLE, and beneath him, MEDIUM TO THE STARS.
“First of all,” Kimberly said, “if he’s the medium to the stars, what the hell’s he doing here? Secondly, look at his picture.” She tapped her
David nodded, returning the smile. “We’ve been here a week.”
Kimberly came out the front door and joined them. After a few minutes of small talk, she said, “Come on inside, Jenna, while these guys lift the hood on the Dodge.”
She took Jenna through the living room, down the hall to the cheerful master bedroom decorated in cream and pale green. Kimberly knocked a pile of underwear and socks off a straight-back chair against the wall. “Look at this,” she said. “It’s bad enough I’ve got to clean up after three boys.” She carried the chair over to the computer, set it next to the low, wheeled chair already positioned there.
Jenna sat in the straight-back. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Miles cleans his room about every fourth or fifth time I tell him to. David’s a little sloppy, but I let it pass because he’s so good about taking the garbage out and helping me in the kitchen.”
Kimberly said, “That’s why I can only work part-time at the store. Harry does very well at real estate—we’d be okay if I didn’t work. But the extra money is nice, you know? Full-time money would be even nicer, but I don’t have time . This house would totally fall apart if I worked full-time. Nobody here would survive a week— they wouldn’t know how. They would all die. It would be all over the news, and Rush Limbaugh and Dr. Laura would blame me because I wasn’t home wiping their butts for them.”
Jenna’s laughter was quiet at first, but got louder as Kimberly went on. It felt good to laugh so hard, and she enjoyed the feeling while it lasted.
“I’m not kidding—they wouldn’t survive their morning rituals without me,” Kimberly said. She moved the mouse slightly over the pad on the desktop and opened her Internet browser, nodded her head toward the computer monitor. “There are a lot of local psychics on the Internet, a lot more than I expected to find. Mediums aren’t as plentiful, but there are several. Some mediums call themselves ‘channels,’ and there are quite a few of those, too. But in the Humboldt County area, the most common are psychics. I did a little reading up on all of them, and I don’t think a psychic is what you need. There are psychics who read the future, psychics who advise, and psychics who can help you find your lost dog. Some claim to have spirit guides—the spirits of dead people who give them information from the other side—but they don’t talk to the dead, not the way you want to. For that, you need a physical medium. Or a channel. But the ones who call themselves channels tend to give off a New Agey vibe that really turns me off. Unless you’re into that. Are you?”
Jenna frowned. “Into what?”
“All that New Age stuff. You know, crystals, aromatherapy, Shirley MacLaine, unicorn art.”
“Definitely not.”
“I’m not too sure about the mediums, either, but at least they don’t give the impression they genuinely believe Yanni to be good music, you know what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“So I bookmarked all the local mediums who have Web sites, and here—” She picked up a white sheet of paper off the desk and handed it over to Jenna. Printed on the page was a list of names, telephone numbers, and street addresses. “From the Yellow Pages, I made a list of the ones who don’t.” Kimberly clicked on the top of the list of bookmarks. “I’ve already looked at all these. Let’s go through them, and I’ll show you the ones I think smell bad. Like this first one.”
A little animated naked man wearing a turban and sitting in the lotus position floated in the center of the screen, bobbing lightly in the virtual air, grinning. Above him arced the name ANTHONY WALL-COLE, and beneath him, MEDIUM TO THE STARS.
“First of all,” Kimberly said, “if he’s the medium to the stars, what the hell’s he doing here? Secondly, look at his picture.” She tapped her
Similar Books
