Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (34 page)

“Good of you.”

“I think so. Now, the cards?”

“There’s a point to this, isn’t there? You didn’t just randomly decide you want to foretell my fortune.”

She took a cookie, her voice casual as she said, “I had a premonition.”

“What was it?”

“That I should read the cards for you.”

I sighed and shook my head.

“I’m not dissembling, Olivia. I had a premonition that bothered me. I don’t wish to say more until I’ve done the reading.”

“All
right. Tell me my future, Rosalyn Razvan. When will I be rich and happy?”

She closed her eyes. “I predict you will come into great wealth in approximately three weeks. Roughly … wait … I see a number. Is it …? Yes, five million.”

“With interest,” I said. “I’m told there has been interest. Okay, I walked into that one.”

“As for happy … The pursuit of happiness may be written into our Declaration of Independence, but that only means our founding fathers were hopelessly sentimental. You don’t pursue happiness. You pursue everything you need to have a fulfilled life, and then, if you achieve it, you’ll be happy some of the time. The rest of the time, you’ll be content. One can’t sustain happiness forever.”

When I looked skeptical, she said, “Do those cookies make you happy?” as I reached for another one.

I took another bite. “Yep.”

“Imagine if you ate nothing else. What would happen?”

“I’d get fat. But I’d be very happy.”

“No. After two days of nothing but chocolate chip cookies, you’d be sick of them. Even having them every day would dull the effect. The trick is to eat them just often enough that you still savor them. Too much of anything reduces the overall effect of happiness and satisfaction.”

“Not everything.”

“That includes sex, which is what you’re thinking even if you believe you’re being coy. How would you like it ten times a day, every day?”

“Ouch.”

“I rest my case. My point is that the cards can’t tell you how to be happy, because it varies for every person. You
are
happy, in the sense of mostly ranging between content and truly happy,
and that range is the goal. Onto the cards, then …” She took a deck from her desk. It looked like an Italian version, hand-painted and gorgeous antiques.

“Can we use the Victorian tarot?” I asked.

A small nod, as if she’d only been testing me. Tarot cards from the Victorian era are actually rare. Many modern versions are done in a Victorian style, because the era brought with it the mystique of spiritualism, but tarot reading was uncommon in that period. These cards, though, were the real deal.

When I said so, she nodded. “Gabriel got them for me when he was young. As a solstice gift.”

I’d seen these cards many times, and she’d never mentioned where they came from. In that, she was also like her nephew, keeping her past and her personal self under lock and key, but in a way that you never realized how little you knew until she opened that box and let one scrap escape, a sign that you were moving from acquaintance to friend.

“That’s some gift,” I said. “Must have been expensive.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was. He even earned part of the money through perfectly legal means.”

When I laughed, she said, “He was very quick to tell me that he took on errands to raise money for gifts. Note that he never said
all
the money.”

“It was important for you to know that he’d worked for it. Not that picking pockets isn’t work, but that your gifts were special. He put both thought and effort into them.”

She fingered the cards, her gaze distant. “Yes, I suppose so. I always thought he didn’t want me to think poorly of him, but in our family, light fingers are a skill to be admired. It was the additional effort that mattered to him.”

A long sip of her tea, as if to wash away any sentimentality, and then she laid the cards out for me. I knew the drill and took one.

“That was fast,” she said. “Not surprising for someone with a touch of the sight herself.”

It was the Queen of Swords, which Rose says is my card. I looked it up once, and got as far as seeing that one of the meanings, under the reversed format, included the word “bitchy.” The card today, though, was right side up. The next one I drew was the King of Pentacles. Gabriel’s card. Then the King of Wands.

“Are you sure you can’t just
see
them?” Rose asked.

“If I could, I made a mistake there. Ricky is the Page of Wands, right? That’s what I got before.”

“Page evolving into King. Apparently, evolving rapidly.”

Which he was, moving into his role with the Cŵn Annwn, showing his strength and his leadership with the rogue Huntsman and with the broken hound.

“Now,” I said to the cards. “Tell me something I don’t know. Gabriel, Ricky and I will …”

I turned over a card showing a thief making off with an armload of swords.

“The Seven of Swords,” Rose said. “It signifies secrecy and selfishness, doing something for yourself at the expense of others. Possibly hurting others in the process. It suggests someone will—”

“Betray me.” My gaze slid to the King of Pentacles card.

“We’re asking the cards about an event concerning you and Ricky and Gabriel. Yes, there will be a betrayal. Most likely
to
you as a group, rather than between you.”

I nodded, but must have looked unconvinced, because she said, “I know Gabriel has—”

“Can we just continue? Please.” I turned over another card before she could answer. The Hermit, reversed.

“Signifies isolation and darkness.” She tapped her fingers against it. “It can mean an overabundance of introspection, but the sense I get is darkness. A dark and empty place.”

“Gabriel, Ricky, me, dark place, betrayal …” I exhaled a little in relief. “Okay, no offense, Rose, but I think your precognition is running on a delay. That happened about four months ago.”

“Yes, there was a betrayal, but it did not
lead
to you being in that dark place. Connected in time, rather than circumstance.”

I turned over two more cards, which didn’t add anything to the mix.

“Gabriel, Ricky, me, dark place, betrayal,” I said again. “That’s all I’m getting, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I saw in my premonition. The three of you, both together and divided. In a dark place. And …” She shook her head. “And that’s all.” She began collecting the cards.

“No, it’s not. What else did you see?”

She said nothing until I prodded again, and then only, “Shadows, violence, anger, a struggle …”

“A struggle?” I prodded.

“A struggle against a violent impulse. Someone who desperately does not want to do something and yet the impulse …” She knocked the deck against the desktop, straightening them. “The impulse isn’t strong enough to come to anything. But it’s dangerous nonetheless.”

“Can I get anything more concrete?”

She looked at me. “My nephew is involved. I would not hold back if I knew more.”

“So beware dark places, dark impulses, and betrayals. That last one can’t really be avoided, though. Unless I’m the one doing the betraying.”

“Which I cannot imagine.”

I wrapped my fingers around my teacup. “But I am, aren’t I? Betraying Gabriel.”

Her blue eyes bored into mine. “You have done nothing to Gabriel, Olivia. Nothing except good. Whatever choices you’ve
made, they were because he offered no other option, and because you are free to pursue your own happiness rather than wait for something that may never come, because someone is too damned dense …”

She trailed off as I looked up at her.

“And that’s not what you meant at all,” she said, leaning back. “Which is a relief. Also rather awkward. This betrayal you were referring to, then …”

“Patrick.”

She refilled her tea and mine. “Not telling Gabriel that Patrick is his father.”

“Like I didn’t tell Gabriel that he’s Gwynn. Apparently, I haven’t learned my lesson.”

She gave me a hard look. “I’d hope you realize it’s not the same. But now that things are going well with Gabriel, you’re anxiously scanning the ground for any obstacle you could trip over.”

“I—”

“You hate that. You hate fretting and worrying. You think, if it’s a solid relationship, it should be smooth sailing. Like it is with Ricky.”

“I don’t—”

“Ricky is easy. He demands nothing of you. Expects nothing of you. You see eye to eye on most things and when you don’t, you accommodate each other, effortlessly. Smooth sailing. Gabriel, on the other hand, is a wild ride through stormy waters, both exhilarating and exhausting.”

“Yes.” That was all I said, all I could say.
Yes.

“I wish I could tell you it’ll get better. But Gabriel will never be Ricky. I would also rather he didn’t find out about Patrick. The problem, though, is that he will eventually, and it’s better coming from someone who cares about him.”

I sipped my tea. “Ioan almost let it slip. Patrick makes sly comments, and I’m sure he’s always done that because it amuses him, but now
I
react when he does. Gabriel is going to figure it out. It apparently wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. It just wasn’t important at the time.
He
wasn’t important.”

Rose was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “I could tell him, but I really think it’s better coming from you. He’s not going to run, Liv. At least, not far and not for long. You know that now. As hard as it was the last time, it was only Gabriel retreating temporarily.”

“Behind his wall.”

“Yes.”

“Which I can climb, but I’m never going to knock down.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“No, I know that. I’ve always known—”

The front door opened. Rose called, “Gabriel?”

“Do you need more time with Olivia?” he replied, his voice echoing from the hall.

She glanced at me. I shook my head, and she said, “No, come in and join her for tea while I start dinner.”

G
abriel
and I were in the kitchen, washing dishes while Rose met with a client. We’d almost finished when he said, “I have a question, one for which the answer may be obvious to most, but I am going to ask it anyway.”

“Shoot.”

“It’s about gifts.”

“Abilities, you mean?”

He set a plate in the drying rack. “No, presents. There are times when a gift may be considered a presumption. For example, giving someone a pet.”

“Yeah, unless they ask for it, that’s never a good idea.”

He paused in washing another plate. “So if the giver is not certain that the gift will be well received, it shouldn’t be offered, no matter how pure the intentions.”

“Not if that gift requires paper training.”

“A poor example, then. I mean a gift that is given with all good intentions, knowing there is a chance it will seem presumptuous. Perhaps if the recipient has already declined the gift, but the giver believes it is actually desired.”

“You do realize you’re talking in riddles, right? I need concrete, Gabriel. Is this something for Rose? Tell me what it is, and I’ll give you my advice.”

He
washed all the cups before saying, “I’m not looking for advice. I’m looking for absolution in case I’ve made a grievous error.” He folded the dishcloth and laid it aside. “Enough of that. I’ll show you, and if I have indeed made a mistake, understand that it was well-intentioned.”

I saw where we seemed to be heading but said nothing, even as Gabriel paused to open the front gate of the Carew house.

“No, I’m not buying you a house,” he said. “That would indeed be presumptive. Also unnecessary, given that your net wealth will outstrip my own in a few weeks. And yes,” he said as he ushered me through, “I know you don’t like to be reminded of your inheritance, because you feel you didn’t earn the money. But it isn’t as if you stole it.”

“I think I’d feel as though stealing it
was
earning it in a way. Even if I probably shouldn’t admit that.”

“If you did, you would be admitting it to someone who would hardly judge you for the sentiment. You have earned this inheritance, though, by birth.”

“Adoption.”

He led me up the front walk. “You did not ask for the money. You do not expect the money. You will not use it to feed some bad habit. It will be re-invested, and you’ve made it quite clear you’ll continue to work. Your inheritance will simply make life easier for you, and there is little to argue with about that. If you must, you can give some of it to charity.”

“If I must?”

“I don’t see the point, but I’m told that’s a minority opinion.”

“No, it’s just a minority of people who admit to it. And to change the subject, ooh, we’re actually going in the
front
door. This is new.”

He made an uninterpretable noise in his throat. As he turned the knob, my gaze lingered on the knocker, a brass cuckoo’s head. A good marriage omen. I’d seen it before, but only now did I see how detailed it was. Like the fence, it wasn’t the sort of thing you pick up at your local home improvement store. It was only as he was prodding me through that I noticed a shiny new deadbolt.

“Did the elders …?” I began.

He brushed past me to turn off the security alarm.

“New locks
and
an alarm system?” I said.

“Yes. I …” He cleared his throat. “I took the liberty—”

“There’s furniture,” I said, moving into the living room.

“From the attic. Temporary furnishings. They are, as you can see, rather old.”

I gave him a look. “It’s antique, which you know very well, and after the drunken confession about your office, you can no longer play that card.”

“Card?”

“The one that says you have no interest in such frivolities and whims as antique furniture. Did the elders bring all this …?” I turned to him. “No, it wasn’t the elders, was it?”

“If you’re suggesting I carried dusty furniture … Well, not much of it. The elders facilitated the hiring of locals.” He cleared his throat. “I believe the property is an excellent investment opportunity. The elders owe you, and you ought to take advantage of that in a rising housing market. I am not, however, advising you to buy it immediately. The furniture and the security is to allow you to move in temporarily, as the elders suggested.” He looked around. “I believe TC would appreciate the extra space.”