* * * *
Such a fool. Eric should have dressed the part—clown, jester, harlequin. In the plain black outfit, he probably appeared more conspicuous rather than less. He was clueless about how to assemble a costume. The cheap face mask had caught his eye on a quick stop to the pharmacy for vitamins, and he’d tossed it in with the other items without thinking.
Everything leading up to this moment, in fact, he’d done without thought. He’d simply gotten dressed and driven here as if he’d planned to, when he had no intention of attending. Costume parties made him uncomfortable. Even at regular parties without a disguise, his throat grew dry, his brain function slowed, and appropriate replies occurred to him long after the conversation ended. Yet here he was, standing in the foyer of the bed and breakfast, awkward as a teenager at the prom.
In utter contrast, there stood his new neighbor Jocelyn Gibson, angelic in creamy white and gold. Looking at him with wonder and surprise. Probably thinking him a lunatic. He’d glimpsed her a few times in passing the old place. What would make a single woman want such a Victorian horror? Perfect for Halloween, at least.
Inhaling a reinforcing breath, Eric moved stiffly in her direction. A few minutes, he’d stay. No longer. Then he’d slip out, he hoped with less fanfare than he’d arrived.
Strange. The gust of wind had come on unexpectedly. Swept up the fireflies from outside and carried them into the house, swarming in front of him like a glimmering cloud. Everywhere else in the area, fireflies died out weeks ago. Around the inn, they concentrated every night. Funny, no one but Jocelyn Gibson and the woman standing beside her seemed to notice. And the border collie mix.
To his dismay, she glided toward him. Paralyzed by nerves, he could only stare as she approached. Candlelight caught the gilded leaves woven through her hair, the golden chains at her wrists. Her white tunic, leggings and split skirt revealed enough of her curves to tantalize him to distraction.
A few steps away, she halted. “You’re here.”
Even in the dim light, she had a glow about her.
“You’re luminous.” He snapped his mouth shut to stem the flow of any more errant thoughts.
Rose tinged her golden face. “It’s the glitter makeup. You’re Dr. Hendricks, aren’t you?”
“Right. Eric.” Tonight, he wished he were someone else. A man with no history who could start fresh, not mired in the past.
“It’s good to meet you. I’m Joss Gibson.”
He searched for something witty to say, something to ease the awkwardness. In the five years since his wife’s accident, the most he’d said to a woman was hello. They’d already covered that.
“Everything looks great.” Except for the woman in the short white dress covered with bright red hearts. Staring at him. Wait, wasn’t she the diner waitress, Sheree? What the hell was she supposed to be, a clown?
Lifting her chin, Joss smiled. “Tonight’s party is kind of a last hurrah for the old girl before we start renovations.”
“Oh.” He’d never been one for small talk, and never was the fact more painfully obvious to him than now.
Joss’s smile wavered. “You don’t approve?”
“It’s not that.” Right now, he approved of most everything about her.
Before he could explain, the tall, older woman reappeared next to Joss. Her auburn hair fought the red of her lips, pursed as her gaze cut into him with sharp assessment. She gave a tsk, and in a throaty voice, said, “Oh, my.”
Joss shot her a warning glance. “Aunt Lydia, this is Dr. Eric Hendricks.”
“Doctor.” Her aunt’s tone caressed the word like a favorite pet.
He extended his hand. “A veterinarian. Nice to meet you.”
Encasing his hand in hers, she turned it over and traced a finger across the center of his palm. “Oh, yes. Come with me.” Turning, she tugged him through the crowd.
With Frankenstein steps, he rigidly followed. Glancing back at Joss gave him no reassurance. Frowning, she might have been irritated with him or her aunt, he couldn’t tell.
They passed underneath paper bats fluttering from the hallway ceiling. Small carved pumpkins leered at him with crooked fiery smiles from atop book shelves.
Sheree turned as he passed. “Eric? Where are you going?”
Good question. It seemed futile, but he had to ask. “Where are we going?”
“The future awaits those who dare to seek it,” Lydia said over her shoulder.
Future? His life had ground to a halt five years ago.
Near a small wooden table holding cards and a candle, she dropped his hand and plopped onto the chair. “Please sit.” She waved toward the chair opposite, scooped up the cards and handed them to him.
A sigh and he sat. Might as well. Cooperating would at least hurry this along so he could disappear into the crowd again. Or out the door.
“Clear your mind and shuffle the cards.” She gestured toward the deck.
He did as she asked and set them on the table.
“Fan them out,” she said, “and then select five cards.”
Surely, she didn’t intend for him to take this seriously. He slipped five from the rest. “I don’t—”
“Shhh.” Concentrating on the cards as she laid them out, her eyes widened.
At her audible gasp, he leaned closer. “Something wrong?” He tilted his head to read their titles: The Tower. Judgment. The Fool. The Lovers. The Moon.
Lydia nodded like a statue of a coin-fed fortune-teller. “Oh.” She leaned closer. “Oh, my. Most unusual.”
He tensed. “What?” What sort of trickery was she up to?
Her voice softened. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Rest assured your loneliness will soon end. Great happiness awaits after a terrible trial.”
His gut churned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” The accident ripped his happiness away when it took Karen. Nothing could be worse than that.
“Of course, I do. I’m never wrong.” Lydia’s gaze slid to the room’s entrance.
Joss spoke with Charlie Fulton dressed in painter’s overalls. Some costume. But then, next to her, anyone would appear silly.
Lydia rested her palms against the table. “Tonight is a fateful night.”
The ominous statement settled over him like a mist. Fate had never been kind to him before. “Why?”
She leaned forward, candlelight sparking in her brown eyes. “Your life is on the verge of great change toward a destiny you cannot avoid. Finding your true soul mate.” She spoke as if revealing a great secret.
The words pierced his heart. “No.”
“Oh, yes. The cards indicate it here.” She splayed her hands across the cards.
A parlor trick, nothing more. A reminder he didn’t need. “I have to go.”
Pushing away from the table, he strode to Joss, who poured green liquid into the punch bowl. He’d approached her with the intention of bidding her good night and getting the hell out of there. Instead, he asked, “What is that?”
After ladling some into a glass, she held it up. Wisps of smoke curled up from the drink. “Taste it and find out.”
More than the drink tempted him. “It looks dangerous.” But its citrus scent enticed him. His fingers closed around hers, and the tiniest jolt sparked through his hand, like deadened tissue reanimated.
Alarm