hands.
“What brings you to AnnaCoreen today?”
Charlie blurted, “Lily sent me.”
AnnaCoreen cocked her head, her blue eyes shimmering with an odd light. “Lily?”
“Lillian Trudeau. My grandmother.”
AnnaCoreen sat back on her throne and smiled. “I see.”
The intensity of the older woman’s gaze unsettled Charlie. “She passed away three months ago,” Charlie said.
“Yes, I know. I was at her funeral.”
“I don’t remember seeing you there.”
“I stopped in only briefly to pay my respects.”
The older woman’s gentle smile calmed some of Charlie’s anxiety. “Nana told me that if my sisters or I ever needed . . . guidance, that we should come see you.”
She nodded, her smile never wavering. In fact, it hadn’t wavered since Charlie had arrived. But it wasn’t creepy. It was sweet, affectionate, perhaps even a little knowing. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally meet you. Charlie, right?”
Whoa. The woman knew Charlie from her other two sisters? Well, she was psychic. She almost laughed. God, first her life was a mess. Now her brain was joining in on the fun. “You knew my grandmother well?”
“Not really, no. I met her only a few times. But I liked her very much.”
“I don’t understand why she would send me or my sisters here.”
AnnaCoreen rose, every movement so fluid she seemed to float. “Let’s take this conversation to the house, shall we?”
Charlie followed her out a back door and into a lush, vibrant garden. A narrow brick path led to a small house that she hadn’t noticed earlier because all her horrified attention had been focused on the pink eyesore. The beach house, the antithesis of the shack, was a fresh, sunny yellow with bright white trim. They entered through the kitchen. Red, blue and yellow touches kept the gleaming white floors, appliances and wicker furniture from being blinding.
AnnaCoreen gestured toward the front room, also white, surrounded by paned floor-to-ceiling windows. French doors led to a wraparound porch that faced the white-sand beach. Yellow-and-white-striped cushions on rocking chairs invited guests to get comfortable and rock the day away. Charlie immediately wanted to go out there and settle in with a glass of iced tea. Sweetened.
AnnaCoreen said, “Please make yourself comfortable on the porch while I change. I’ll bring out some iced tea. The herbal stuff gives me a headache.”
Alone on the porch, Charlie settled onto a rocking chair and looked out at the rolling waves, glistening in the late afternoon sun. Usually the expanse of the Gulf humbled her, made her problems seem so small and pointless. Not today.
When AnnaCoreen returned, she carried a tray with two tall glasses and a pitcher of ice- and lemon-laden tea. As thirsty as she was, Charlie couldn’t stop staring at the woman’s shocking transformation.
A simple red dress conformed to delicate curves and showed off bare legs that could have belonged to a dancer. The blond wig was gone, revealing short, reddish blond hair that had an amazing amount of body considering it had recently been flattened by a wig. She’d washed off the brassy eye makeup and lipstick and replaced them with simple foundation and a little pink blush and lip gloss. But the smile and cheekbones lived on in bold Technicolor.
While the costume had changed, her movements were the same—graceful, precise—as she set the tray on the wide porch railing and began to pour tea with a clink of ice.
“This is sweet tea, the kind my momma used to brew,” she said. A slight Southern drawl had replaced the faint British accent.
Charlie suppressed her sigh. So it was all a big fake-out. The shack, the crystal, the scarves over the lamps. While she couldn’t help but be impressed at how well the woman pulled it off, she couldn’t imagine that someone so adept at show business would be able to help her with her problem. Like she’d thought earlier: She needed an expert.
AnnaCoreen handed
“What brings you to AnnaCoreen today?”
Charlie blurted, “Lily sent me.”
AnnaCoreen cocked her head, her blue eyes shimmering with an odd light. “Lily?”
“Lillian Trudeau. My grandmother.”
AnnaCoreen sat back on her throne and smiled. “I see.”
The intensity of the older woman’s gaze unsettled Charlie. “She passed away three months ago,” Charlie said.
“Yes, I know. I was at her funeral.”
“I don’t remember seeing you there.”
“I stopped in only briefly to pay my respects.”
The older woman’s gentle smile calmed some of Charlie’s anxiety. “Nana told me that if my sisters or I ever needed . . . guidance, that we should come see you.”
She nodded, her smile never wavering. In fact, it hadn’t wavered since Charlie had arrived. But it wasn’t creepy. It was sweet, affectionate, perhaps even a little knowing. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally meet you. Charlie, right?”
Whoa. The woman knew Charlie from her other two sisters? Well, she was psychic. She almost laughed. God, first her life was a mess. Now her brain was joining in on the fun. “You knew my grandmother well?”
“Not really, no. I met her only a few times. But I liked her very much.”
“I don’t understand why she would send me or my sisters here.”
AnnaCoreen rose, every movement so fluid she seemed to float. “Let’s take this conversation to the house, shall we?”
Charlie followed her out a back door and into a lush, vibrant garden. A narrow brick path led to a small house that she hadn’t noticed earlier because all her horrified attention had been focused on the pink eyesore. The beach house, the antithesis of the shack, was a fresh, sunny yellow with bright white trim. They entered through the kitchen. Red, blue and yellow touches kept the gleaming white floors, appliances and wicker furniture from being blinding.
AnnaCoreen gestured toward the front room, also white, surrounded by paned floor-to-ceiling windows. French doors led to a wraparound porch that faced the white-sand beach. Yellow-and-white-striped cushions on rocking chairs invited guests to get comfortable and rock the day away. Charlie immediately wanted to go out there and settle in with a glass of iced tea. Sweetened.
AnnaCoreen said, “Please make yourself comfortable on the porch while I change. I’ll bring out some iced tea. The herbal stuff gives me a headache.”
Alone on the porch, Charlie settled onto a rocking chair and looked out at the rolling waves, glistening in the late afternoon sun. Usually the expanse of the Gulf humbled her, made her problems seem so small and pointless. Not today.
When AnnaCoreen returned, she carried a tray with two tall glasses and a pitcher of ice- and lemon-laden tea. As thirsty as she was, Charlie couldn’t stop staring at the woman’s shocking transformation.
A simple red dress conformed to delicate curves and showed off bare legs that could have belonged to a dancer. The blond wig was gone, revealing short, reddish blond hair that had an amazing amount of body considering it had recently been flattened by a wig. She’d washed off the brassy eye makeup and lipstick and replaced them with simple foundation and a little pink blush and lip gloss. But the smile and cheekbones lived on in bold Technicolor.
While the costume had changed, her movements were the same—graceful, precise—as she set the tray on the wide porch railing and began to pour tea with a clink of ice.
“This is sweet tea, the kind my momma used to brew,” she said. A slight Southern drawl had replaced the faint British accent.
Charlie suppressed her sigh. So it was all a big fake-out. The shack, the crystal, the scarves over the lamps. While she couldn’t help but be impressed at how well the woman pulled it off, she couldn’t imagine that someone so adept at show business would be able to help her with her problem. Like she’d thought earlier: She needed an expert.
AnnaCoreen handed
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