Not in the Cards Read online

  “It may not be entirely avoidable. It’s going to be a sensational case as far as embezzlement cases go. Guy steals upwards of a million dollars from his company, is caught in flagrante delicto by his wife, and frames his boss to take the fall. Then, the now almost ex-wife meets the disgraced boss and starts a relationship with him. It’s soap opera territory, Cassandra.”

  Sandy sighed. “Vincent and I should’ve put the brakes on until this was all over.”

  “I don’t know if it’ll change the outcome. You’ll still be involved, but now, instead of only having someone to root against, you have someone to cheer for. Also, without your involvement with Vincent, would the dots have been connected in time to lead to the IT person? Or would your town already be in the hands of your ex-husband by way of the shady developer?”

  Sandy’s shoulders slumped in defeat before she straightened to her full height. “You’re right. This is happening this way because it needs to. My association with Vincent is what is helping us solve the crime.”

  Bela chucked her on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! I’m going to leave you here and get back to my office. I’ll have one of my colleagues get in touch with you once the charges against Aaron are brought so we can help you get ready for that courtroom scene.”

  “I don’t need…”

  “Yes, you do. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not assertive enough. I see the steel is there, but it’s not automatic yet. You’ll let a determined lawyer—and we’re all determined—walk all over you, and then apologize for your trouble.”

  Sandy wanted to protest, but there was nothing to argue. Years of acquiescing to everything had made her a lot less assertive than she wanted to be. “You’re right,” she conceded. “I’m working on it, but I’m not there yet.”

  “There’s no shame in it,” the lawyer said. “But in the courtroom, you need a little more balance if you’re going to testify against your ex-husband in a criminal case.”

  “I just hope he is my ex-husband by then,” she muttered.

  “He will be. In one week, regardless of whether he shows or not, he’ll be your ex. The judge will make a declaration in absentia. She’ll be able to do that as long as his lawyer is there as legal representation. He won’t be able to protest anything she rules, though. I’m going to ask for more alimony than you’d requested. I’ll send you the paperwork later to review.”

  “But if he’s in jail, how’s he going to pay alimony?”

  “There are all sorts of ways. He may have to sell the house and, instead of giving you—” she paged through the paperwork “—a measly twenty-five percent, which is ridiculous, I don’t care that you weren’t working outside the home, you deserve better—the profits will be placed in an escrow account to pay your alimony until he’s out. We’ll figure something out, but you should’ve had representation from the beginning. You were too kind to him, and the mediator didn’t do you any favors. You should get a portion of his retirement account, especially since he never set one up for you. You’re also entitled to a much larger portion of the savings he disclosed.”

  “He earned all that money,” Sandy said.

  “So did you. You quit your job and gave up your career to take care of him and the house. You may not have been the main breadwinner, but you were—at least theoretically—an equal partner in the marriage, and as such, deserve an equal share.”

  Sandy didn’t respond. She was tired of saying ‘you’re right’ when people pointed out what should’ve been obvious. Instead, she offered a tight smile and held out her hand.

  “It will get easier. I promise,” Bela said. “I’ve been in your shoes, and it made me what I am today.”

  “Thank you,” Sandy said. “Let me know what I need to do before the next court date.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Bela walked out of the small alcove in which they’d been standing, down the massive double staircase, and out of the courthouse. Sandy stopped at the small snack stand at the bottom of the stairs and got a Coke before following her lawyer out of the building.

  Vincent was waiting in the bar of Nel Centro with a small bouquet of wildflowers and two glasses of champagne.

  Sandy tried to smile, but it died before it could reach her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Vincent asked. “Was Aaron an ass?”

  “He didn’t show. I’m not divorced.”

  Vincent set the flowers down on the table and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to get that out of the way. Instead of celebratory champagne, would you like some commiseration champagne?”

  She smiled through the tears that were beginning to leak out of her eyes. “I’d love some.”

  He handed her a glass and proposed a toast. “To you, your strength, and the imminent end of your marriage.”

  Sandy burst into tears, hiccupping through the sobs.

  Vincent took her champagne flute before she could spill, set both glasses down on the table, and pulled her back into his body. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

  “I’m being stupid, and I hate it.”

  “You’re never stupid,” he said. “And I don’t take kindly to anyone talking that way about the woman I love.”

  Sandy made a noise that was half laugh and half choking sob. “You know what I mean.”

  “Actually, I don’t. You’re emotional. That’s to be expected. I shouldn’t have made the end of your marriage into a celebration.”

  “No. You should’ve. I wanted to be celebrating with you right now. I don’t know why it upset me.”

  “Having a lot of emotions at a major life change is pretty normal.”

  “I’d prefer having one emotion at a time. It’d be much easier to deal with, and maybe I wouldn’t have cried when you tried to do something nice for me.”

  “You never need to apologize to me for how you’re feeling. I’m here for you, regardless. Take your time. If you’d rather we go somewhere else, that’s fine, too. I can settle the bill; we can be out of here in five minutes.”

  She offered a watery smile. “No. We’re here. I’m hungry. There’s champagne. I’m with my favorite person in all the land. And you got me flowers. Did you know that you’re the first man I’m not related to who’s ever gotten me flowers I liked?”

  “That is a shame, but I’m glad you like them. I thought you might like lilacs, but they’re impossible to find this time of year, so I got these. You do like them, don’t you?”

  “Very much. And I love lilacs as well.”

  “If I’d known your history, I would’ve gone for a bigger bouquet.”

  Sandy smirked. “It’s not the size of the flowers, you know.”

  Vincent laughed. “Gotta do what I can to impress my lady.”

  “You don’t have to do anything to impress me. Your presence in my life is impressive. I am so lucky to have found you.”

  “The other night, I was so sad that we hadn’t met earlier. There are so many years behind us that I would’ve liked to spend with you. But then I think that even if we had met—which was a possibility, considering our mutual ties—we weren’t ready for each other until now. I’m not much of a believer in destiny, but six weeks ago, I wasn’t a believer in psychics, either, so I’m open to anything at this point. Cassandra Franklin, I think that our meeting was, if not destiny, very, very fortuitous. Without you, I would’ve given up. Sold Oracle Bay. Let myself be labeled an embezzler, and given up the work that I enjoyed because of the stain on my name. Thank you. Thank you for listening. For believing in me. For being at my side. But mostly, thank you for touching my soul in ways I didn’t imagine possible.”

  Sandy tipped her glass towards him, and he tapped his against it. “To us,” she said. “Whatever the future may hold, we’ll find out together.”

  “To us,” he agreed.

  Several hours later, Sandy walked into her small apartment, dropped her coat and keys on the table, and tried to decide if she was going to read in the tub with the
bottle of prosecco she’d been saving to celebrate her divorce or if she’d rather grab her book and head to bed.

  A dull creak echoed from downstairs. It sounded like someone had stepped on the one loose floorboard she’d learned to avoid. Adrenaline and fear caused her stomach to clench. She grabbed the bottle—it’d be sad if she had to use it, but it was a formidable weapon—and crept towards the door that led to the stairs to the shop. She held her breath, eased it open, and reached in to flip on the light.

  “Surprise!”

  In the room, holding more bottles of wine than there were people, were the psychics.

  “Happy Divorce!” Misty shouted.

  “Were you going to attack us with that?” Drew asked.

  “I heard a noise.”

  “Never, ever sacrifice the good booze,” he said. “If you’re feeling the urge to bash someone’s brains in with a bottle of liquor, keep a bottle of bottom shelf whiskey on hand.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Ceri asked. “We’re here to help you celebrate your divorce.”

  “A room full of psychics, and none of you thought to check in on what was really going on?” A wry smile twisted her lips.

  “What do you mean?” Morgana asked.

  “Oh, shit,” Drew said. “Oh, honey. I am so sorry.”

  “What?” Misty asked.

  “It didn’t happen,” Drew said. “She’s still married to ass-face.”

  Misty’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. And you’re right. It’s pretty laughable that an entire group of psychics messed up this badly.”

  “It’s okay,” Sandy said.

  “It’s not,” Paska said. “None of us thought to check in on what was going on. Some of us are more limited than others in the way our gifts work. Morgana would only get an update if she had tea with you. Misty can only check in through a touch. But some of us could have done what was needed to make sure this surprise party was appropriate.”

  “Either way, I appreciate you guys. I was going to wallow—Vincent can’t come back to town until tomorrow—and now I don’t have to wallow alone. I still don’t have furniture, though. Does anyone want to head out to The Pour House to help me drown my sorrows?”

  It didn’t take long for everyone to stash their bottles in Sandy’s kitchen—she’d need the celebratory wine in a couple weeks anyway—and head over to the brewpub.

  “You guys, again?” Andy said as they tromped through the door. “The big table in back’s free. I had a feeling I should reserve it tonight. I can always tell when trouble’s brewing.”

  Morgana smiled at him. “Your alarm must always be going off, then. You’re nothing but trouble.”

  Sandy’s jaw dropped. Was Morgana flirting with him?

  “Get on with you,” he said. “I’ll send Brandy around to take your drink orders while I finish up what I’m doing. Then, if it isn’t too much of an imposition, I’d love to sit and have a drink with you. I have a couple of questions I’m hoping you can answer.”

  Paska looked the tall, dark man up and down. “Answers from us come with a price tag. I’ll trade you question for question.”

  “There are some things I can’t answer,” Andy warned.

  “The same can be said for us.”

  “I can’t tell you my true name. If that negates your agreement, that’s fine. I wanted that out there from the beginning.”

  “I won’t tell you mine, either. No true names. No craft secrets. And no secrets that belong to someone else.”

  Andy reached his hand out, and Paska grasped it. After they shook, Andy said, “You have a deal. I’ll meet you in the back in twenty minutes or so.”

  “Go on ahead,” Paska said. “I need to stop in the little psychic’s room.”

  Sandy gave him a bit of side-eye. She admittedly didn’t know him well, but he’d not previously exhibited whimsical turns of phrase.

  “Me, too,” Morgana said. “I’ll catch up. Order me whatever he has on Nitro if Brandy comes before I get there.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll take the Broken Halo Bitter, please.”

  Ceri and Jezebel led the way into the back room—which wasn’t really a separate room at all, just a semi-enclosed space with a large table, seating enough for twelve, and the illusion of total privacy. Brandy followed them into the alcove and took everyone’s beer orders as well as the request for two large plates of nachos and a hummus plate.

  “What’s going on?” Sandy asked once Brandy had retreated to grab their drinks.

  “I’m not sure,” Drew said, slowly. “Something must have happened for Andy to come to us and risk outing himself.”

  “Outing himself how?”

  “As other,” Ceri said. “Like we talked about. He’s not quite normal, and none of us have ever known who—or what—he is.”

  “He said he wouldn’t give up his true name,” said Misty.

  “There’s more to an identity than a true name,” Jezebel said. “He might offer enough clues to lead us to the what if not the who.”

  “I’m more concerned about what could’ve prompted this,” Ceri said.

  “As are we,” Paska said, sliding into the chair next to Misty. Morgana slipped into a chair on the other side of the table next to Drew. “I didn’t really need to spend a penny; I merely needed a moment to confer with Morgana about what we would and would not share with our favorite brewmaster.”

  “What did you decide on behalf of us all?” Jezebel asked. There was so much snark in her voice; Sandy was surprised that Paska didn’t recoil.

  “We decided nothing on behalf of the rest of you. We decided only for ourselves. You all know that we’re a bit older than you and have known each other for a fair amount of time. You are free to make your own decisions about what you share, whether it’s about your name or your craft. If you’re using something other than your true name, though, I’d recommend keeping that piece of information to yourself. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but who here is still using their true name?”

  Sandy raised her hand, positive she’d be the only one. She looked around and saw Misty and Ceri had their hands up, too.

  “I’ve only ever lived here,” Misty said apologetically. “It seemed like a hassle to change.”

  “I came here when I was young, and by the time I’d developed my reputation, the name change thing seemed like a waste of time,” Ceri agreed.

  “You know me,” Sandy said. “I literally just got here. I haven’t had a chance to even think about it.”

  “The three of you should. It’ll take a while for your names to fade in the minds of those that know you, and some will never make the switch completely, but if what’s on the horizon is as big a deal as I think it’s going to be, you’re going to want your true names as hard to find as is humanly possible. Sandy, if I might make a suggestion…you have the Alexandra sign already, and it’s close enough to your own name that no one will question it. We can still call you Sandy, but once your divorce is well and truly final, you should take steps to change your name. Pick a nice, innocuous last name that’s as far away as possible from your own—too bad you didn’t take your ex’s name—and make that your public face.”

  “Legally, my last name is Bell,” she admitted. “I just stopped using it and went back to my maiden name when I moved here.”

  “You could be Alexandra Bell,” Paskha said. “It’s funny.”

  Sandy laughed. “It is funny, but I’m not sure I want to be forever tied to that name. I’m not super fond of him right now.”

  “You don’t have to decide today,” Morgana said. Her voice sounded deeper and richer than usual, and it raised goosebumps on Sandy’s arms. “Just think about it. Now let’s pause while the most excellent Brandy distributes our drinks.”

  The conversation turned to lighter things after Brandy left. Sandy shared the story of her not-divorce-day, and everyone spent a few minutes trash talking Aaron.

  “You guys are the bes
t,” she said. “I’m so glad I have friends.”

  Misty reached out and squeezed her hand. “We’re glad you’re here, too.”

  Andy walked into the space, immediately overwhelming it with his sheer size. “I got everyone another round of drinks.” He started handing out pints as Brandy handed them to him. When all the beers were distributed and the nachos and hummus situated, he sat, picked up his own pint, and said. “I have a story, and it will be weird.”

  “Weird is our specialty,” Drew said.

  “If you please, I’d rather not be the subject of levity right now. This is serious.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Accepted, although not needed.” He took a long pull of his beer. “In this time and place, I go by Andy Sterling. I am…not exactly human.”

  “Not exactly how?” Jezebel asked, leaning forward.

  “I think I will leave that unanswered for the time being. Suffice it to say, I am much less human than all—” he looked around the table “—or at least most of you.”

  Sandy took a surreptitious look around the table. Who wasn’t human? She gave Paska a long glance, but when he caught her looking, she glanced away.

  “Something happened on Halloween that leads me to believe that I, and by association, Oracle Bay, will be targeted by a group of…more non-human combatants.”

  “What happened?” Morgana demanded.

  “Do you remember that fight? The one where I had to kick the guys out?”

  Several affirmative nods encouraged him to continue.

  “They turned out to be…old enemies. And my actions that night, although necessary for the security of this bar and my patrons, will have repercussions beyond that evening.”

  “What questions do you have for us?” Paska asked.

  “What are your skills? Can you see the coming storm?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The pause after Andy’s question lasted so long that Sandy was beginning to worry that no one would speak again and she’d be responsible for breaking the silence. Paska leaned forward, folded his hands on the table, and appeared to be trying to look through the man across from him.