The story she’d told, of how she’d dedicated her life to one despicable man and, as a result, had lost the man she loved, floated around the table like a vile smell. By Madison’s plate was a little wooden frog that clacked when you pulled it along by its string. The toy was a reminder of the children that Madison would never have.
Leslie broke the silence. Picking up the book she’d bought from where Ellie had put it down on the table, she said, “I think I would like to investigate some other choices,” she said softly.
“You’d like to spend spring break with the rich kid,” Ellie said. “Mr. Maybe-Going-to-be-President-Someday, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Leslie said firmly, “I would.”
“What’s that?” Madison asked abruptly.
Leslie looked at the book, which Madison seemed to be motioning toward. Puzzled, she said, “It’s the book I bought.”
“No. What’s that sticking out of it?”
Turning the book on end, Leslie looked at the top edge. There was a small piece of paper barely protruding from the pages. Opening to the marker, Leslie took it out. It was a business card, cream-colored, and Leslie could see that it was in old-fashioned engraving, the kind where someone painstakingly engraves a copper plate.
Futures, Inc.
“Have you ever wanted to rewrite your past?”
Madame Zoya can help
333 Everlasting Street
Leslie read the card, frowned, then handed it to Madison. “I have no idea what it is. I didn’t notice it when I was reading the book.”
Madison looked at the card for a moment, then put it down on the table. Opening her handbag, she withdrew another card and placed it beside Leslie’s. They were identical.
“That’s odd that we both have the same card,” Leslie said, “but then I guess the lady is just trying to drum up business. It must be difficult to earn a living in a small town like this. Maybe—”
She broke off because Ellie had rummaged inside her shopping bags and had placed a third identical card on the table by the other two.
Seventeen
“Palm reader,” Madison said as she ate another piece of fried food.
“Tarot,” Ellie said. “Or, actually, she could be regressionist.”
“Past lives?” Madison asked, eyebrows raised. “Gee, I’d sure love to find out that I’ve done stupid things for centuries.”
“You were probably a great beauty then too. Maybe you were some king’s favorite courtesan,” Ellie said.
“So why do I get courtesan and not queen?” Madison asked. “Why do I have to be illegal as well as immoral?”
“In real life queens are never actually beautiful. They’re chosen for their lineage, not their looks.”
“Does this include Princess Diana?” Madison shot back.
“She didn’t make it to queen, did she?” Ellie said, one eyebrow raised.
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“Let’s go,” Leslie said, and, without waiting for a reply, she began to gather her things.
“Back to the house?” Ellie asked, puzzled by Leslie’s abruptness.
Madison leaned over. “I think she means for us to go to Madame Zoya.”
“You’re kidding,” Ellie said as the waitress came up to their table.