she’d meet with her was outside of her usual comfort zone, but she was in a public place in the middle of the afternoon. So why was she chomping on a piece of plastic like a masticating cow?
She scoped out the front door of the café she sat in, waiting for the mysterious Armani to arrive. The other woman had said she’d know her immediately. Jane wondered how. Maybe insurance companies had access to driver’s licenses and she’d seen her picture.
The man at the next table laughed loudly. Jane glanced over at him and the woman he sat with. An older couple, obviously in love, held hands across the table. Jane watched as they grudgingly broke their bond so the waitress could place their sandwich-laden plates down. Even before she walked away, the woman took her pickle and placed it on her partner’s plate. With a mischievous wink, he stole one of her French fries. Playfully she swatted at his thieving hand and they both chuckled.
Tears pricking the back of her eyes, Jane sighed and looked away. That’s what she wanted. Someone to share life with. Someone to laugh with. Someone to share a consuming passion with, just like her parents had shared until the end.
She wanted it so badly that she’d agreed to meet a psychic matchmaker.
The waitress, a heavyset woman with an easy smile, sauntered over. “They make you believe in love, don’t they?” She jutted her chin in the direction of the older couple.
Swallowing hard, not trusting herself to speak, Jane nodded.
“Course I’ve been with my man for twenty years and he never held my hand. Not even when we were courting, but he’s got other good qualities.” She winked at Jane. “You still waiting for your other party?”
“Yes.”
“You want a refill on your drink?”
“Please.”
“I’ll bring you a fresh straw too,” the waitress teased gently with a wide smile.
“That would probably be a good idea.” As the waitress moved away, Jane glanced at her watch.
Armani was more than fifteen minutes late. She’d been the one to choose the location, saying it was close to where she worked. Perhaps she’d decided not to come. Maybe she didn’t think she could help Jane after all. Jane couldn’t blame her. No matter how much she wanted to find love, it always seemed to elude her.
“Hey there, Jane Bly.” A beautiful Latina with dark hair and a huge grin toppled into the seat opposite Jane. “Sorry I’m late. I got stuck taking this claim where this bear ate this guy’s seats.” Looking up, she waved to someone across the café. “Hey, Sharon! Hey, Robert!”
Jane gaped at the human dynamo.
“Did you order yet?” Armani brushed her hair out of her face.
It was then Jane realized one of her hands was misshapen. She tried not to stare, but the other woman caught her looking.
“Zamboni.”
Jane blinked. “Excuse me?”
Armani waved her injured hand. “I ignored Vanilla Ice.”
“Sorry?”
“I ignored a premonition, Ice, Ice, Baby and ended up in an accident with a Zamboni. That’s what messed up my hand and leg.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane murmured. As bizarre as the story was, at least she’d been able to follow it.
Armani shrugged. “It taught me an important lesson. I should never ignore my gift. Which is why we’re here.”
“Lemonade for you.” The waitress bellied up to our table. “Iced coffee with cola for you, right, Armani?”
“You know me too well.” Armani grinned as the waitress put the odd drink combo down on the table.
“What’ll you have?” the waitress asked.
“BLT on French toast with mustard,” Armani rattled off without hesitation.
Jane’s stomach roiled traitorously at the mere suggestion of the disgusting combination.
“And for you, honey?”
“What did she have?” Jane tilted her head toward the woman sitting alone at another table, enraptured by whatever she was reading on her cell phone. “It smelled good when you brought it past.”
“Moussaka.”
“I’ll have that.”
The
She scoped out the front door of the café she sat in, waiting for the mysterious Armani to arrive. The other woman had said she’d know her immediately. Jane wondered how. Maybe insurance companies had access to driver’s licenses and she’d seen her picture.
The man at the next table laughed loudly. Jane glanced over at him and the woman he sat with. An older couple, obviously in love, held hands across the table. Jane watched as they grudgingly broke their bond so the waitress could place their sandwich-laden plates down. Even before she walked away, the woman took her pickle and placed it on her partner’s plate. With a mischievous wink, he stole one of her French fries. Playfully she swatted at his thieving hand and they both chuckled.
Tears pricking the back of her eyes, Jane sighed and looked away. That’s what she wanted. Someone to share life with. Someone to laugh with. Someone to share a consuming passion with, just like her parents had shared until the end.
She wanted it so badly that she’d agreed to meet a psychic matchmaker.
The waitress, a heavyset woman with an easy smile, sauntered over. “They make you believe in love, don’t they?” She jutted her chin in the direction of the older couple.
Swallowing hard, not trusting herself to speak, Jane nodded.
“Course I’ve been with my man for twenty years and he never held my hand. Not even when we were courting, but he’s got other good qualities.” She winked at Jane. “You still waiting for your other party?”
“Yes.”
“You want a refill on your drink?”
“Please.”
“I’ll bring you a fresh straw too,” the waitress teased gently with a wide smile.
“That would probably be a good idea.” As the waitress moved away, Jane glanced at her watch.
Armani was more than fifteen minutes late. She’d been the one to choose the location, saying it was close to where she worked. Perhaps she’d decided not to come. Maybe she didn’t think she could help Jane after all. Jane couldn’t blame her. No matter how much she wanted to find love, it always seemed to elude her.
“Hey there, Jane Bly.” A beautiful Latina with dark hair and a huge grin toppled into the seat opposite Jane. “Sorry I’m late. I got stuck taking this claim where this bear ate this guy’s seats.” Looking up, she waved to someone across the café. “Hey, Sharon! Hey, Robert!”
Jane gaped at the human dynamo.
“Did you order yet?” Armani brushed her hair out of her face.
It was then Jane realized one of her hands was misshapen. She tried not to stare, but the other woman caught her looking.
“Zamboni.”
Jane blinked. “Excuse me?”
Armani waved her injured hand. “I ignored Vanilla Ice.”
“Sorry?”
“I ignored a premonition, Ice, Ice, Baby and ended up in an accident with a Zamboni. That’s what messed up my hand and leg.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane murmured. As bizarre as the story was, at least she’d been able to follow it.
Armani shrugged. “It taught me an important lesson. I should never ignore my gift. Which is why we’re here.”
“Lemonade for you.” The waitress bellied up to our table. “Iced coffee with cola for you, right, Armani?”
“You know me too well.” Armani grinned as the waitress put the odd drink combo down on the table.
“What’ll you have?” the waitress asked.
“BLT on French toast with mustard,” Armani rattled off without hesitation.
Jane’s stomach roiled traitorously at the mere suggestion of the disgusting combination.
“And for you, honey?”
“What did she have?” Jane tilted her head toward the woman sitting alone at another table, enraptured by whatever she was reading on her cell phone. “It smelled good when you brought it past.”
“Moussaka.”
“I’ll have that.”
The
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