Foods, Fools and a Dead Psychic Maria Swan (top rated ebook readers TXT) 📖

hear they are adding drone service for aerial views. Our industry is changing by leaps and bounds but I’m not going to do the drone unless the listing is over 500K. By the way, is your aunt still booking catering jobs for December or is she full?”

“I will have to check on that.” I said.

Suddenly last night’s sight of Brenda’s house ablaze in lights and then her standing in the center of her pantry deep in thought. What was that all about? I never even asked. I only cared about my stomach... and my heart.

Today was Tuesday. I counted on my fingers and figured out the house with the tub would be officially for sale to the public by Thursday morning. Time to get the realty sign up. I could go by tomorrow to install the lock box in case some interested party kept an eye on the subdivision. We would be the only active listing. Whoo hooo, no competition. And then I remembered Scott, somewhere in Utah, skiing. Damn. And the tire — had to take care of that. The last thing I needed was another flat tire on the way to meet a client.

I pulled out my monthly planner and called my mechanic. He could have the tire in the shop by morning and I would need to sit and wait for about forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes in mechanic speak meant about double that. I sighed. Made a note, car/tire, 9:30. And then I made the mistake of looking at the actual date. An alarm went off in the pit of my stomach. I was late, really late.

I’d been subconsciously blocking it off. And that was probably the main reason I didn’t want to listen to Max’s messages. The thought made me crazy. How could it even be possible? I had never been one to take chances on that subject. No siree, never. The angst at the pit of my stomach had a name: unplanned pregnancy? I felt sick, no not the morning sickness, the other kind that gets you when you’re faced with the possibility of being a complete irresponsible fool, one who’s probably ruined your life forever.

Breathe, Monica, breathe. I didn’t even know how many days one had to wait before rolling the dice on a store-bought kit. Would check on that with my home computer. The quiet of the office, so unusual, crept under my skin. Anxiety and anger grew. I had to do something before I exploded. I walked up to Kassandra’s desk. She was engrossed in the latest issue of People magazine. Talk about a slow day at the office.

“Where is everybody? I haven’t seen Sunny in two days. And what about Scott? I need the sign installed. Did you see the photos? That’s J.S.’s work. I think she did a good job. Kay is going to start using her also.” I spit all that out without coming up for air.

Kassandra listened, her eyes on me, not blinking. She closed the magazine slowly and laid it on her desk. Then she tilted her head and seemed to study me. For a very long time. “What the hell happened to you? If you need to talk to Sunny I’m sure you know how to use a phone. If you need a post installed, it would be a good idea to fill out a request form or do you think you’re so special that Scott can just read your mind? You know what? I think I do need to read your cards, but not while you look at me with crazed eyes.”

Lucky for me she spoke without raising her voice. I was this close to start crying. How was that for all-grown-up Monica Baker? And just like that, puff, all my anger dissipated and I ran into the kitchen and blew my nose and caught a wandering tear before it ever had a chance to roll off the slippery slope of my sad face. Time for me to go home.

I made it as far as the parking lot and sat in the car, bargaining with myself and with God. The last time I did that was when my grandmother was in the hospital. My bargaining didn’t work then, would probably not work now. Time to bite the bullet, or in this case buy the pregnancy kit. Dear God. The idea of doing that made me want to die. I would have to find a drug store, not close to home, with a woman cashier, about my age. Sooo embarrassing. Pay cash so it couldn’t be traced back to me. My cell interrupted my important scheming project. “Are you still sitting in your pink can in the parking lot?”

Kassandra. Could she see me from her desk? Shit. I started the engine.

“Was.” Could only manage a word before choking up.

“How about you come back in here and tell me what’s going on? And don’t start on the Tarot cards. That’s for b-e-f-o-r-e, not after.”

“You know about it? How? I haven’t told anyone. Hell, I’m not even sure myself.”

Silence.

“I meant you get a reading when you’re seeking help on making a decision, a choice. Stop acting like a dumb ass and come tell me what’s going on. I’m closing up as soon as Kay leaves. But I can’t run out there.”

My car inched toward the main road. “I am, no, I think, I may be pregnant.”

“And?” Did she say ‘And?’ What was wrong with her?

“I need to find out.” I whispered.

“Speak up, I can hardly hear you.”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Let me guess, you’re what? Five, ten minutes past the time you think you should start menstruating and you are coming unglued. I’m sure if you were over twenty-four hours late you would have already done your pee test, right?”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me felt offended, but the wiser part knew she was on target, and she was a friend.

“No, I’ve been debating where to buy one of those things, you know, the pregnancy