It's funny how a few words can change your life; be it for better or for worse. This happened to me on a sunny morning over lunch with my best friend Colton Jacobs. One of those inevitable things I couldn't stop even if I tried.

My name is Isabelle Cruise and I am twenty-six years old, short and curvy with blond hair and green eyes. The bright sunlight from the window of the Italian restaurant glared on my pale skin and highlighted a series of freckles, which had come out in the brightness.

I knew something was wrong from the look on his face, his blue eyes were too intense and his gaze directly met mine in a way that said he wanted my full, undivided attention. At first, I thought he was going to tell me something like "I have cancer" or something equally life-changing, but at least I had been right on that account; what he had to say was life-changing, but there was only one life it would change-mine.

"On a serious note…" He began segueing from our previous conversation, where I had stupidly asked him if he thought I was pretty, which isn't exactly the type of thing you ask a guy who's "just a friend" that you've known for fifteen some years. "… I wanted to tell you in person…" He began, usually that was the lead into something serious-very serious.

I knew he was nervous, it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that. It was a condition I rarely saw him in, he was usually so confident, and for someone who was currently plowing through grad school I found his current position, with his broad stiff shoulders and awkwardly twisted fingers, offputting. It was the tenseness that made me focus on something else; every nuance of Colton that screamed at me from the way his jacket was draped over the back of his chair across from me, to the way his T-shirt, which bore some mathematical equation I was unfamiliar with, stretched across his now broad chest. This only served as a reminder he wasn't the eight-year-old I had met all those years ago.

Then he said.

"I'm attracted to girls and guys."

The sentence was simple enough but the implications of it slammed into me with the force of a sledgehammer, the shock going so deep it was like someone had thrown me down a well without any way of getting out again. It was that reaction that told me I was different and this wouldn't just "wear off". This was Colton I was talking about, the guy I had known since we were in elementary school; and I thought at this point I knew everything there was to know about him… Apparently not.

The most unusual thing about my reaction to Colton's statement was that I didn't react at all. I felt as if I was watching the entire scene from somewhere inside myself and I couldn't get away. At some point his voice faded to a distant murmur and my head swam, and my vision looking like I was looking through some sort of indistinct tunnel with dark clouded edges. It was only later I learned I had a panic attack, which was something new to me I was naturally stressed but it usually went away, but not this time, this time I had to confront something I couldn't get away from.

This incident is the precursor to the story I am about to tell. The story about how I found out I was what people call an empath (a person who can feel the emotions of other living things) and how the following revelations ended up turning my life upside down.

The week after Colton came out to me was probably the worst week of my life. His conversation kept playing over and over in my head like a broken record and I didn't sleep much. From the beginning of the week the end I felt vaguely disconnected. I had kept Colton's news to myself only telling a few people so I could get advice and opinions on how to handle something so clearly unexpected, but that was all I could do; just pick up the pieces and move on.

That would've been the end of it if it hadn't been for what happened about six months later. I had just about made peace with the entire thing and could deal with it well enough without freaking out every time he happened to write something super personal on Facebook or his blog, then we met for lunch again… Same time, same place.

It was bad enough I had "diarrhea of the mouth" and I couldn't seem to shut up about how I felt, some of which was probably left better unsaid; and to add to it I had another panic attack, not as bad as the first, but still bad enough it rattled me quite a bit, and it was after that I started looking for answers.

In my generation Google has always been my best friend when looking up information I knew absolutely nothing about, and so as I began my search I began thinking outside the box; looking for something more than the obvious answers.

I read a few articles on panic attacks, confirming my own self-diagnosis, but I knew I didn't have an anxiety disorder, the attacks came on too sporadically and suddenly it for it to be that. I ran a series of searches about unique "connections" between best friends, which led me to type in "telepathy" which was something I never thought in a million years I would search the Internet for.

The telepathy search led me to another word: empath, which led me to another site and it was there I began reading. I realized what was written on the screen really did describe me, the panic attacks, the oversensitivity, even my artistic tendencies. I stocked the site for almost a week before joining the community and that is where my story and journey as an empath begins.

 

2: Chapter 1

 

"ME-OW? Meow?"

I felt a soft but cool paw on my face and opened one eye to see two intense almond shaped blue eyes staring back at me.

"Meow." My cat, my seal point Siamese Sapphire Stardust said pointedly as she continued to prod at my face with an insistent paw.

"Knock it off Sapph." I grumbled as I ran a hand down my face. "Another half-hour is that too much to ask? Your food's down, go away."

"MEE-OW!" Sapphire reiterated loudly, "meow!"

It was only then I rolled over (grudgingly) to look at the clock as if to prove my cat I deserved another half hour of sleep, unfortunately, it was much later than I had anticipated. Instead of reading 5:45 like I had anticipated it instead read 7:33 AM… Meaning I had to be at work in half an hour.

"Crap!" I muttered as I rolled out of bed, I was going to be late for work… Again.

 

I moved across my room as quickly as I could, grabbing clean socks and the appropriate articles of clothing as I went. I didn't have much time this morning only enough time to grab a granola bar from my stash in the cupboard; I would have to chew a piece of gum in the car.

I was dressed in under ten minutes and running a comb through my hair as I crossed the kitchen of my simple Chicago apartment while Sapphire followed behind trotting anxiously at my heels. The cat was smarter that I was, at least somebody knew I was going to be late for work today.

 

Setting the comb down on the counter I began looking around for my shoes before grabbing my coat out of the coat closet by the door. This was the fifth or sixth time in as many months. My empathy "attacks" had been taking so much out of me I had been sleeping much more than usual, which if you had a job to hold could be a problem.

I raced out of my apartment barely remembering to lock the door behind me, unlocking my little red Taurus as I went; my mind still whirring… My boss was going to kill me.

 

I worked for a literary magazine downtown, which I had been working at since I had gotten out of college five years before. I liked my job-until recently.

It was almost quarter after eight by the time I raced into the office, and I was halfway to my personal office before the secretary Nancy Faust stopped me, even though I had barely said "hello" or "good morning" to her.

"Miss Cruise-" her voice, laced with some Eastern European accent, stopped me in my tracks, she had a kind looking face but was very strict.She had been working for the magazine for years and was my boss's right hand. "Mr. Machiavelli would like to see when his office… Now."

"Yes ma'am." I mumbled as I scurried past, suddenly remembering I had left my briefcase and portfolio at home, which, of course I needed. I was screwed majorly, I didn't need a crystal ball to know I would be sent packing in about five minutes.

Marco Machiavelli was an average looking man who wore crisp dress shirts and pants and looked how you would expect your stereotypical magazine editor to look slender and skinny with a slightly malnourished look. His dark features would have made him good-looking if it hadn't been for the severity of his entire figure, which reminded me of some Romanian vampire. At the moment, however, he looked even more unappealing with his downturned mouth and intense scowl which grew the minute he saw me. Sitting at his desk with his hands folded and his shoulders slightly hunched he reminded me of a large bird of prey or a vulture, each bird equally morbid.

"Miss Cruise, would you" all please have a seat."

I did as I was told and sat down in the chair across from his large desk, nervously clenching and unclenching my hands it's not like I didn't know what was coming.

"Miss Cruise," Marco began, "Five years ago when I hired you I believed you would be a great asset to this magazine… Each idea you had with new and fresh and creative." Marco cleared his throat before continuing: "That has not, however, been the case as of late."

"I'm sorry sir, I over slept." I mumbled lamely, which I knew at my age and position was no excuse.

"That would make it the third time this week." My boss said sharply. "Would you care to enlighten me as to why tardiness and your quality of work have become such a problem?"

"Well sir, I've been going through a lot…" I began softly.

"Such as?" Marco demanded.

"Well," I could already feel my cheeks flushing, "it's rather personal and hard to explain." (Not that I would begin to explain my empathy to him, since he was clearly a very non-empathetic person).

"If you're having some personal issues you should have plenty of time to sort them out as of right now I am firing you."

Even though I had been expecting it, the words still hit me like a blow in the stomach; or maybe that was just all of Marco's energy, the anger and disappointment and maybe a little bit of stress at losing an employee so early in the morning.

"I understand sir." I finally managed, my mouth suddenly very dry.

"Quite." Marco said shortly as he rearranged the papers on his desk standing to make it clear our meeting was over. "Please clear out your office and I'll have your last paycheck mail to you by next week. That is all, thank you for your time."

"I nodded numbly, and wordlessly left the office, not meeting the eyes of my coworkers as I made my way to my office to clear my desk. To add to my troubles just as I was heading back to my car on the other side of the office parking lot it began to rain.

I looked up at the gray sky resisting the urge to scream aloud. Lovely.

 

I didn't tell anybody I had been fired from the magazine. I couldn't mostly because I couldn't bear to face anyone and have to give a full explanation of why I had been fired in the first place, other than the decrease in quality of my work.

For the rest of the week I halfheartedly looked for a new job, but I felt stuck. I didn't want to go into another office and have the same thing happen just another job where I would have to conform to a schedule, which at the moment was something I felt like I couldn't do. I needed something more where I could control the flow of people and energy I was around which was something I couldn't do in an office setting, but I couldn't write that on a job application.

Empath: sensitive and prone to unexplained panic attacks and the occasional meltdown.

No, I thought, that would not go over well.

3: Chapter 2

"Quit sulking and eat your sandwich." My friend Celeste said, interrupting my glum mood.

The next afternoon after losing my job I was out for a much-needed lunch with my friend Celeste Johnson. We had been friends since we were in seventh grade and had been inseparable ever since. Celeste was tall, slender, and pretty; she looked like a cheerleader but she was anything but; Celeste was the bookish type, she had been in numerous committees and clubs while we were in school and she was also my sounding board for any good or bad idea I happened to devise. She was currently working as a manager of a company that made washing machines.

"Yeah, easy for you to say." I grumbled, "You didn't just lose your job."

"Exactly," Celeste said shortly, "but it's not like that negativity is going to get you anywhere."

"You're right." I sighed, even though there was more to what had happened then I had simply been late for work and had gotten fired.

Celeste continued.

"Don't think of this as an ending, think of it as a new beginning… A chance to start over."

"Get that off a bumper sticker?" I asked. Putting down my fork that clattered into my salad and made the salad dressing splatter, I looked up for the first time feeling interested. "How so?"

Celeste pushed a strand of her, now brown hair behind her left ear. She had been blonde most of the time I had known her, including our four-year stint in college it had only been recently she had changed her color to brunette.

"Think of it as a chance to do something you really have wanted to do… Get you out of your rut… And you are in a rut Isabelle."

I open my mouth and closed it again. Again, she had a point.

"Well… I've always wanted to start my own business, keep my own hours, that type of thing. I need that… The office setting never really worked for me."

Celeste nodded.

"Then do that. What you want to do? Start your own magazine? Start that graphics business you've been talking about since high school? It's got to be something you're good at and enjoy doing."

 

"I'll think about it." I finally said, although I wasn't going to tell her an idea was forming in my mind, but it was something I wasn't quite ready to share with her… At least not yet.

Celeste glanced at her watch and her blue eyes widened.

"Sorry Isabelle, I got a run, I'm due back at the office in half an hour! Look, I'll see you sometime this weekend," she reached out and reassuringly squeezed my hand, "you'll get through this I promise… Keep me posted."

Then she was gone, her long hair flowing behind her like some sort of mythical creature, I watched as she crossed the street from the small café where we had met back to her snazzy little sports car. I watched her drive away, a silk scarf whipping behind her, I felt hopeful for the first time in days. I may not have much of an idea, but at least it was a start.

 

I had yet to tell my family I had lost my job. I hadn't called my mother since the following week, and I had been putting off breaking the news knowing they would all be shocked. Finally, by Saturday I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I had to go over to the house for church anyway as we usually spent the weekend together.

I didn't break the news until we were eating dinner, it was easier to say it once instead of repeating at five or six times. It didn't get any easier saying it though.

Once I had finished my mashed potatoes I carefully set down my fork before speaking.

"I have something to tell everybody," I said slowly, as I took in the faces around the table, my parents, my sister and my brother and his girlfriend Jasmine, who was a frequent visitor. "…You're not going to like it."

"What is it Isabelle?" My father's sounded concerned but wary.

I took a deep breath before blurting out:

"I got fired."

Silence greeted my statement, but it's not like I hadn't expected it.

Finally my mother, a short woman with short, curly blonde hair spoke.

"Why Isabelle?" She didn't sound mad, only tired and resigned.

"I over slept," I muttered, "again. Sapphire barely got me out of bed."

"Why?" My father demanded, "Why is getting to work on time such a problem for you now? How long have you been working there? It was never a problem before!" He fired comments at me one after another and I could already feel myself getting overwhelmed; the air restricting itself in my chest making me feel slightly dizzy.

"Well," I began slowly, "it's complicated, a lot has happened to me in the past few months."

"Such as?" My father asked sharply his graying hair looking particularly severe, his hazel eyes snapping.

"It's-it's hard to explain," I fumbled, "you-you-wouldn't understand!"

"What is there to understand!" My father raged, in a rare display of anger I didn't see very often, "you don't go to work you get fired, end of story!"

"There's more to it than that! You just don't get it!" I yelled, even though every word was pounding through my head like a jackhammer. Then I rose and ran to the spare room where I knew no one would come looking for me.

 

I had been in the room for less than a minute when there was a gentle knock on the door. I looked up, sniffling, there was my brother Arthur. He was like a male version of me except his eyes were blue instead of green.

"Izzy? Are you alright?"

I sniffed, pushing a strand of my wet hair out of my face.

"No." Everything's too much… Everything's too much and I don't like it when people yell."

I could almost hear him nodding and then he was sitting down on the unoccupied bed and giving me a hug, which I had to admit made me feel a little bit better. Then I was crying again, sobbing and sniffling and trying to explain myself and why I had "lost it".

"Dad shouldn't get so upset, it's not his fault you lost your job, and you're an adult you can manage on your own, if you get fired that's your problem."

"I'm not even that upset about getting fired," I said in a shaky voice, "I mean, I liked that job, but the people in the office act like getting the magazine out is a matter of life or death and Machiavelli is such a spaz…

Arthur chuckled.

"What? He's not my boss I can say that now." I said defensively, trying to laugh despite the fact I was still sniffling and crying.

"Can I bring Jas in?" Arthur asked softly, "I want to pray for you."

Jasmine Sanchez was the perfect complement to my brother. She was slender and delicate looking with a thin heart shaped face and long dark hair, with warm, expressive brown eyes. Jasmine sat quietly while Arthur did most of the talking, only cutting in gently when there was a break in the conversation.

I don't know how long the three of us sat there talking quietly but the story came spilling out of me; everything from Colton coming out to me being an empath and how all of that was connected.

Arthur nodded.

"Yeah, I'm like that, Jasmine too." I watched for a moment as he and his girlfriend exchanged a smile, something that was only for the two of them. Just to hear Arthur say that that he understood how I felt was an enormous weight off my shoulders.

"So what are you going to do about your job?" Jasmine asked.

I shrugged and shook my head.

"Start over I guess. I was thinking of starting my own business."

Arthur in Jasmine exchanged another look and Arthur looked intrigued.

"Doing what?" He asked.

"Well," I began, giving voice to the thoughts that had begun to form since my conversation with Celeste the day before, "I was thinking of doing something with my empathy… You know, helping people."

4: Chapter 3

In the weeks since talking to Arthur my life had gone from 0 to 60 in a matter of days. I was double checking and triple checking my bank account to see if I had enough to rent a space for some type of office. I met with a couple of realtors who showed me in the spaces available and what I could get for the money I could offer.

I also did research on what the startup cost would be for my type of business would be, and I figured if I took out a small loan I could pay it back at least within the first year (possibly sooner depending on how good business was).

I had enough money to pay at least a few months rent on the space I had finally decided to lease, a small office in the far corner of a strip mall that had once been a nail salon. The bulk of the loan went towards business expenses, the furniture and supplies I would need to furnish the office, but by the time I was finished and the office was looking like what I had envisioned, the expenses ended up being somewhere in the thousands, which from where I lived wasn't unusual.

The first few days were rough, there was hardly any business and it wasn't until the end of the second day, when Arthur and Jasmine stopped by, my brother offered a suggestion.

"Izzy, you've got to promote yourself, no one is going to come by here unless they know you're here." He looked around the small office, "you've got to hire some help, if you're going to do some promotion you need more hands."

I walked over and turned the "close" sign on the door.

"Okay, what do you suggest?" I asked as I sat back behind my desk.

"First, hire some people, get someone to do the bookkeeping and maybe answer the phone and another to do promotion; hand out flyers and stuff."

I nodded, absently taking notes on a nearby notepad.

"Well what am I supposed to do for the time being? I can't hire five people in the next week!" I looked at the sad state of my little shop with the makeshift signs taped up with scotch tape.

My brother said running a hand through his hair.

"For now Jas and I can help you, and I'll see if Jasmine knows a few girls at school who would be interested."

Behind Arthur, Jasmine nodded.

"Yeah, I know a couple of people, Jasmine interjected, "would you be willing to hire part-time?"

I shrugged.

"Hey, whatever helps, I need all the help I can get."

 

By the end of the following week I had hired three people, Arthur, Jasmine and Jasmine's friend Helene were all working in the shop part-time as they took turns doing small tasks around the office and Arthur worked on getting word out about the shop.

At the moment, the shop wasn't much to look at, a plain building with a few signs made from posterboard in the windows.

One said:

Readings by Isabelle: Guidance for the Every Day

The smaller sign underneath read in blue marker:

Hours: 9 AM to 5 PM Monday through Friday

Saturday: 9 AM to 1 PM CLOSED SUNDAY

I shook my head at these poor excuses for signage, I still had some work to do.

Business was slow for the next couple of days, but getting flyers and business cards out helped and slowly the traffic picked up. A number of people thought I was a psychic, which I quickly explained I wasn't, but once they realized how beneficial it was sitting in a small dusty office and having their emotions read and talking to somebody was; they quickly change their attitude. I had a little old lady that lived across the road they came in every morning before lunch just to talk, to tell me what was going on in her life and what did I think she should do about everything from her children to the current medication she was taking.

I gave specials every Friday morning and gave a reading for half price for people who couldn't regularly afford a standard reading at sixty dollars.

 Over time Arthur and Jasmine began doing readings as well. Arthur sometimes accompanied by his phone as he read a few scriptures he thought the person might find helpful. Jasmine was less experienced and often got overwhelmed particularly if there was someone that came in with a lot of "heavy" emotion, sometimes I would have to tell her to take a break or give her a client that wasn't as stressed out as the others.

Every day after I closed the shop, Arthur, Jasmine and I would take time to decompress, or sometimes we would do this between clients if we didn't have a very busy day. We would pray and hold hands asking God to bless our work and our clients and one by one we would pray for the people they came through our door whether they were believers or not.

As the business began to fall into a routine I made plans to get permanent signage. Thanks to my regular clientele I was able to pay out my first batch of paychecks within the first month; the rest of the money went into the business budget and towards signs for the doors and windows. It wasn't until I was getting ready to order these Arthur brought up a good point.

"You need to change the name," he said one afternoon after the last of our clients had left. "People think we do psychic readings, that's not true, we're empathic not psychic."

"Most people wouldn't know empathy if it bit them on the nose." I muttered, "we can't just call it "The Empath Shop"."

Just then Jasmine spoke up.

"We feel people's emotions, just go with something simple, we can just call it "The Feelers".

So by the end of the day I had ordered new graphics, a new set of flyers and business cards to be distributed as soon as they could be printed, and along with the sign that read the phone number and hours the sign outside the shop now read:

The Feelers: Help, Hope, Inspire

 

Thanks to our new signs and "mission statement" business was picking up and everything seemed to be going along quite well, (I was even thinking of ordering signs with our names on them) until she came through the door.

 

5: Chapter 4

The woman that became my nemesis of sorts walked into the shop on a sunny Tuesday morning just as the weather was turning from winter to spring and could be persuaded to have a few warm days here and there. I looked up from what I was doing, organizing appointments and checking the monthly budget (again) when I first saw her.

I "felt" her rather more than really saw her, a strong domineering personality that said she was very much in a hurry and she didn't think much of my establishment which made me wonder why she was even in the shop at all. She had a long elegant trenchcoat with a large ruff collar and judging by her clothes she looked like she had just stepped off a Paris runway rather than a Chicago sidewalk. She was dressed in black from head to toe and her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun on the top of her head on top of which was some sort of hat like the kind proper English ladies would wear. She would've been pretty if it hadn't been for her superior snobbish expression.

"May I help you?" I asked tentatively, unsure of where to begin with this customer who was quite unlike our usual clientele.

"Yes…" She said in a grand, but smooth voice. "I would like an appointment."

"Okay…" I said slowly as I closed what I was doing on the computer and reached to pull up my booking schedule. "May I please have your name and what day works best for you."

"Veronica Carlton…" She said airily, "I think a Wednesday morning will work nicely, that should be early enough for my ladies and I."

"You are bringing more than one person?" I questioned trying my best to cover my surprise. Behind me I could feel Arthur's eyes on the back of my head, and I knew he was concerned already knowing the booking was going downhill fast. Veronica reminded me of a vampire, tall, slender and imposing and she seemed to be about as lethal as one. She was what empaths referred to as an energy vampire, a person that intentionally or non intentionally drains energy from another.

"Yes, that would be six other ladies and myself… Roberta saw your shop and thought it might be a fun little activity for us."

I bristled, my business was not just a "fun little activity" to pass the time; but I let it go.

"So what time…?" I asked, hurriedly typing on the computer to disguise my shaking hands. I did not like the energy coming from this woman one bit, it made me feel rattled and jittery.

"Do you have anything around 9 AM?"

I glanced at the schedule, my mind already whirring.

"I have an appointment from 9 to 10…" I began.

"I'll take it!" Veronica said in a hurry, as if she were bidding on something she couldn't live without, (although I do wish you had something longer there will be a lot of us."

"Ma'am, I book appointments on an hour basis, you can only make longer appointments if there are extenuating circumstances or if I know you before hand… As I need time to prepare."

Veronica gave a curt nod.

"I see. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow 9 AM."

With that Veronica swept out of the shop her elegant coat flapping behind her like some large bird.

When I turned around I saw Arthur and Jasmine looking at me, Jasmine having gone several shades paler than normal; beside her Arthur had a hand on her shoulder.

"What a horrible woman." Jasmine grumbled, just loud enough that I could hear her, "good luck when she comes in."

It was then I remembered.

"Wait a minute, she'll be coming in that timeslot when you guys are out! How my supposed to handle seven people? A few of which seemed to have very strong personalities, I hate being around people like that I'll be tired in twenty minutes."

"You can take a break," Arthur suggested, "Jasmine and I will be back as soon as we can."

"It just seems like Veronica isn't exactly a forgiving person… She'll probably think it's poor business etiquette if I step out for five minutes." I shook my head, "she just doesn't understand how I run this business."

Arthur put a hand on my shoulder.

"You'll figure it out Is, I have faith in you." He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, and just like that I felt a million times better. Taking a deep breath I looked towards the door again where my regular client a college student named Vicky was coming through the door. Even before she took five steps I knew she had taken a test that day because her stress level was much higher than normal, which given my current circumstances, wasn't exactly the thing I needed right now. I did a few shielding exercises and took a deep breath.

Here we go again.

 

Afterwards, after Arthur and Jasmine had made their way home I furiously cleansed the shop both with sage and dry-cleaning cloths and the pressure in my chest eased. I had to be careful of Veronica and possibly her friends they could potentially be the Achilles heel of my fledgling business.

6: Chapter 5

The next morning, the morning of Veronica's appointment I watched the clock nervously. Each second ticked by agonizingly slowly and I was grateful I had no appointments within the first hour of being open; usually I liked helping my customers, but today I was so stressed and nervous I could barely focus. I did a few brief exercises to focus my breathing and my nerves and then I was ready… At least I hoped so.

As usual, Arthur, Jasmine and Helene were absent at school leaving my part time assistant Amber Robbins to handle the rest of the shop while I oversaw clients from 9 AM to 1 PM with a break in between for lunch.

I had hired Amber a few weeks after I had opened the shop. I had realized it was near impossible to run the shop by myself while Arthur and Jasmine were gone most of the day, but they did come in from one to five and from nine to one on the weekends. I had run into her when she was just coming out of the spa a few doors down from me and as she was looking for another part-time job and had readily agreed to my terms. In the short time I had known her she had fit into the shop well, even though she didn't directly deal with the customers only to point them in the right direction when they had an appointment. Amber, along with Helene shared secretarial duties and sometimes booked appointments when Arthur, Jasmine and I were busy.

Veronica, Roberta and their friends blew into my shop exactly at 9 AM. I wasn't used to my customers being so punctual.

"Good morning!" Roberta said cheerily. Her energy wasn't negative it was just "too much" some overwhelming amount of positivity and hyper energy which could be draining after a while.

"Please have a seat in the back." I said only briefly looking up from what I was doing behind the main desk, "I'll be with you momentarily."

Veronica and her friends did as instructed, Veronica only making a small "humph" noise as she walked past me as if she were displeased I wasn't ready to wait on her hand and foot.

Sighing, I rose from my desk, it was time to face the music.

 

The six women sat down at one side of one of the three long tables I had in the back of the shop. They looked to vaguely uncomfortable sitting on and at the scuffed tables and chairs as if where they had landed was much below them.

"So," Roberta began, it was beginning to dawn on me she was the chatty sort, even more chatty than I was. "Where do we begin?"

"I will read you one at a time, and I need you to be quiet so I can concentrate, it's difficult when I'm getting input from so many people, this is why I recommend people coming in solo."

There was no response from the small group.

I began my reading with the Roberta, since she was the least intimidating of the six women.

"This day is very exciting for you, you're very excited and maybe a little nervous. Your full of life," I continued, "and you're a bit of an adventurer."

Roberta's face brightened and her round green eyes sparkled.

"Why yes, I am, or at least I was in my younger days." She giggled and her carefully manicured curls and round rosy face reminded me of some type of child's cartoon; something that inspired eternal joy.

I moved on next to the woman next to Roberta and quickly searched my mind for her name, Sophie or Sophia or something like that.

She was a small middle-aged woman with a thin face and dark hair. Sophia bore a resemblance to Veronica, but she bore none of Veronica's haughtiness but was rather demure and feminine; rather like a map so I thought.

Taking her soft, small hands I began speaking quietly.

"You're very shy and I feel an unease about you, maybe there are others around you that are trying to tear you down."

I glanced briefly at Veronica who stared haughtily back.

"Well there was my ex-husband… And then my second husband…" She trailed off and I could sense there was more to her story, but it wasn't something she could reveal with others present. I wasn't exactly sure how close these women, each somewhere between the ages of thirty-five and fifty-five, were. I sensed they were each different, like some caricature of the seven dwarves.

My initial assessment of their personalities had been correct even if it was only a brief glance through attitude and body language, my readings confirmed from the brief bursts of emotions I was getting from each of them both good and bad. Each thing I received confirmed what I already knew.

Finally, I read Veronica, but unlike her friends she didn't allow me to take both of her hands, instead I set one hand on top of her bejeweled one, which was laden with expensive looking rings.

 

"Well Ms. Cruise get on with it." She said in an imperious voice.

I wanted to say, you're a hawk-like vampire with the soul of a shriveled old prune, but of course I didn't say that even though that's what I was getting from her without as so much trying.

"You have a… Very strong personality, you don't take no for an answer and you are the self-appointed leader of your family."

"Well yes, I am the oldest in my family and have been taking care of my sisters since I was young."

I looked into the other woman's steely eyes, which were a sharp hazel, this woman I could very clearly read even though most of the energy she was throwing was negative, very negative. She had to have been no more than six years older than I was but yet she seemed to have the air of someone much older, like she hadn't gotten out much and had grown up around people much older than she was.

Past her hard exterior I saw a glimmer of the person she used to be, but it was buried so deep like it was something  she was ashamed of. The elite of the upper side of Chicago had done this to her… And that was something I couldn't change. I could sense things about people and be there to listen and help if necessary, but I couldn't change the pessimistic narrowmindedness of this sour woman.

"Well, is there more?" Veronica inquired, "mind you, I get what I pay for."

My shoulders stiffened and I clenched my jaw and bit my tongue. I had plenty to say, but none of it would be appropriate for me to say just now. This was a lesson I was still learning, but I had the presence of mind to keep my thoughts to myself.

"You're lonely." I said softly, "you push people away and build harsh things around you like a wall of thorns."

Veronica stiffened and pulled away.

"Well I never…" She said in that airy tone I had heard her use the day before, "what an ugly thing to say." She looked like she was going to leave the table, but at the moment she didn't.

"I can only read what I sense and feel." I replied, "at the moment that is what I feel about you."

"You said such nice things about the others…" She glanced at her friends, and I wondered if they were truly her friends or if they stuck with her for some shallow reason.

"Well you know what they say." I replied, not elaborating on the popular expression.

 

Veronica sniffed, stood and stalked out of the shop, the bell chiming loudly as she closed the door behind her.

 

Finally, her five stunned friends rose Roberta leaning over to shake my hand.

"Thank you, we had a lovely time dear." She smiled, "such a lovely soul…" She smiled warmly.

I nodded, returning her smile.

"You're welcome, come back anytime." I replied and I truly meant it and though I was still feeling rattled, the tension in the room had eased and Roberta's initial excitement had diminished, for which I was grateful.

"Oh we will, particularly Sophie and I, I think we could both benefit from something more… private."

I grabbed a handful of business cards from the front desk.

"Well call anytime. We got people here every day except Sunday."

The ladies paid the remainder of the balance for the appointment, which it seemed Veronica had neglected in her haste, said thank you again and left the shop.

 

After another couple of customers I took the time leading up to my lunch hour before Arthur and Jasmine came in to decompress, and as I was awaiting my 1 o'clock appointment, they both walked in the door.

"How did it go this morning?" Arthur asked, his blue eyes looked concerned but he sounded curious.

I sighed rubbing my forehead slightly, the effects of the morning still wearing on me.

"As well as to be expected, those ladies are a box of chocolates every one, not all of them good." I shook my head.

 

The afternoon was surprisingly busy with Arthur, Jasmine and I serving an ever revolving door of customers and I was more than a little relieved to see our regular clientele, the ones I could handle, or at least the ones I was used to. After the last customer had gone I wiped down the shop with dusters to get rid of the excess energy; it had been quite an active day.

 We ended the day how we normally did, decompressing and praying leaving the shop with a brief embrace and a quick "see you tomorrow" or "see you this weekend" (both of which were very likely true).

 

Finally I was on my way home, the one place I could truly relax which was seemingly untouched by the dramas of the day. I was just finishing dinner when it happened. I was getting ready to watch my evening television when there was a brief knock on my door.

When I open the door there was no one there. The only evidence anyone had ever been there was the small white envelope lying on my porch.

I looked around a couple more times before deciding whoever had left the envelope was long gone then I shut the door and returned to my spot on the couch in the living room. Stretching out on the couch I turned my attention to the mysterious envelope. It was elegant but simple with only my name "Miss Cruise" printed in a careful elegant hand.

Carefully I slit open the envelope and slowly withdrew the card inside.

What was printed on the card was written in dark bold lettering in contrast to the delicate handwriting on the outside of the envelope. It read one word.

"PHONY!"

7: Chapter 6

I was still in a state of shock when I came into the shop the next morning and was numbly going about my preliminary tasks, before the first customers came in, when Arthur and Jasmine poked their heads into the shop on their way to school.

"You okay sis?" My brother asked, he was giving me "that look" again which I hated, it was that look my best friend Colton always gave me when he was concerned or worried about something; the same furrowed brow and worried blue eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, fine." I muttered in a tone of voice I was sure was all but convincing.

Arthur gave me a look.

"Really Isabelle, what's going on?"

Sighing, I've reluctantly pulled the envelope I had received last night out from under the counter and handed it to him.

Arthur glanced over the brief note before he looked up at me, the expected frowned etched over his face.

"When did you get this?"

"Last night." I muttered, "Someone rang my doorbell and left it on my doorstep; that was all."

Finally, Arthur sighed, straightening from where he had been leaning on the counter.

"We'll deal with this later, after Jasmine and I get back from school." My brother turned to leave the shop his girlfriend at his heels. "Oh, and Isabelle, try not to worry."

Right, I thought sardonically, easier said than done.

 

I watched the clock most of the day. When I wasn't with clients my fingers drummed anxiously on any available surface and I had just about talked myself out of my anxiety when the postman came in with the mail for the day. I was rifling through the normal mail I had been getting at the shop when I saw it, another pristine, embossed envelope.

My hands shaking, I opened it.

There on those small card was another message in the same bold handwriting that read:

Pretty face hides disguise, see the truth in pretty lies, taking action to shut you down… Get out of town!

 

It wasn't until after 5 PM Arthur, Jasmine and I were able to talk and I showed them the second note I had received at the shop. By then, I was so frazzled I had barely gotten through my afternoon appointments.

"What should I do?" I asked, "Should I call the police? Should I get a restraining order?"

Arthur spoke up.

"We don't even know who is sending these notes, and I don't think a restraining order is necessary-yet." For the first time that day his face looked unusually tense.

"I think we should call the police." Jasmine said firmly, her dark eyes, like mine looked worried.

"It's probably that--" I muttered a word I usually didn't use, "Veronica… I wouldn't be surprised."

Arthur nodded and slid off the chair behind the desk.

"I agree with Jasmine, I think we should call the police."

 

It was sometime shortly before 6 PM when a policeman arrived at the shop. He was in his mid-30s early 40s and the guy tagging along probably was no older than Arthur was. The visit was short and sweet the officer only asking a few probing questions before they left, lights flickering in the fading light.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to do you harm?" The officer asked.

"I did have a dissatisfied customer the other day…" I reflected, "She wasn't too impressed with my business… Said I was a fake."

The younger officer frowned.

"What is it exactly that you do? A psychic right?"

I pressed my lips together.

"Not exactly." I exchanged a look with Arthur and Jasmine and Arthur nodded and I knew he was going to give the explanation of our empathic abilities.

"So…" The older officer began, "let me get this straight: you read  peoples' emotions to help guide them in their everyday lives, correct?"

Arthur, Jasmine and I nodded.

"Do you have the name and address of the customer in question?"

As he spoke I began pulling up files on my laptop, explaining my processes I went.

"I don't keep addresses, but I do have a name and number where you can reach her. Her name is Veronica Carlton." I wrote the information down for the officer and handed it to him and he nodded before turning towards the door.

"Thank you ma'am, will let you know what you find out and if anything else comes up let us know."

Arthur nodded seriously as he slid an arm around my shoulder, extending the other to shake the older officer's hand.

"Thank you Officer," he said, "good night to you."

 

The next few days came and went without incident and I was just beginning to relax, looking forward to my usual easy Saturday morning. That morning I was pulling up to the shop when I saw it; the ugly words that were sprayed in red spray paint all across the front of my windows.

Most of the words were the words that had been mentioned in the notes along with a few glaring obscenities. I was still staring at the windows in shock when Arthur and Jasmine pulled up in my brother's old, gray Taurus. Their reactions were about the same as mine and it was only after about five minutes I unlocked the shop and Arthur sighed, his tone resigned.

"I'll get the soap and water… This isn't going to be good for our business if we have obscenities marching across our front window."

 

This time when I filed a police report the vandalism done to my storefront was front and center and now the police seemed to be taking it more seriously even though it seemed Veronica had outwardly denied any involvement, just hearing that set my teeth on edge. There had to be more to the story

8: Chapter 7

Following the incident on Saturday life in the shop returned to normal. The normal clientele came and went and I was able to relax, at least as much as possible and I was pleasantly surprised when Roberta and Sophia returned to the shop and truth be told I was rather surprised, yet pleased, to see them. The two women made sort of an odd couple short, stocky Roberta, and tall and lean Sophia, each woman seemingly a direct opposite of the other.

I had taken their reading for the day, although what I picked up wasn't as charged as it had been during their last visit to the shop. Sophia was so pleased with the outcome of the reading she had booked another solo appointment, this time for a Wednesday afternoon with Arthur. For the first time since the incident the previous week I had a smile on my face.

 

I wouldn't been content to go on at this pace if it hadn't been for Arthur's news the next afternoon.

"Mom and dad are coming up." He reported when he came in on Thursday afternoon. Between clients I looked up from where I was sitting behind the main desk my fingers pausing on the computer keys as I tapped away at the spreadsheet organizing the appointments for the next couple of weeks.

 

"What!" My fingers stuttered on the keys, typing strains of gobbledygook within the highlighted field.

"Mom and dad are coming to the shop this afternoon." Arthur repeated, not that I hadn't heard him.

It wasn't that my parents didn't know about the shop, they knew that I had started my own business, but as for what I did exactly I hadn't told them. I hadn't really been specific about my empathic abilities, the fact that I could sense things and was very perceptive about life in general. That being said, didn't mean I was by any means perfect.

I immediately began to pace.

"What are they going to think? Are they going to think I am all the sudden into this New Age stuff? I'm not selling crystals or charms or anything like that! I just have tables, a cash register, a phone and my intuition, what's so wrong about that?"

Arthur took my hands.

"Nothing…" He said softly, "that's you and that's fine."

We smiled at each other.

Momentarily looking up from my computer I glanced at the clock, Sophia was going to be here in twenty minutes.

"By the way, Art, you're 1:30 is going to be here any minute."

 

My parents arrived at the shop five minutes before closing and at the moment I was glad the shop was devoid of clients, it was easier to explain when I didn't have everybody else throwing their warped perceptions at my parents who didn't have a clear idea of my abilities.

"It's nice." My mother commented softly as she and my dad continued to look around. My parents, like Roberta and Sophia, were a bit of an odd couple tall and short with light, bright eyes but with an expressions that said they were analyzing everything.

"How are you dear?" She hugged me, then Arthur then Jasmine and I took it upon myself to make introductions.

"Mom, dad glad you could make it." I caught Helene just as she was walking out of the shop and introduced her. "This is one of our secretaries and part-time assistant Helene Anderson, a schoolmate of Jasmine's."

Greetings were exchanged and afterwards Helene left the shop. Once the door had chimed close behind her I continued talking.

"I have another secretary as well, a single mother I met at the spa a few doors down… She works Monday through Friday 8:30 AM to 1:30 PM; she has the cutest little girl."

My father continued to look around the shop.

"What exactly are you three doing?"

"We use intuition and empathy to give people a little advice when they need it; we're also here people need to talk, but stuff usually overlaps."

"We're not shrinks or anything like that," Jasmine cut in, "but sometimes people need a listening ear you know?"

My parents both nodded smiling, but there was still an air of confusion and uncertainty about them.

I continued the tour of the shop.

"As you can see we don't have much in here, just a normal desk set up and a couple of tables. Sometimes if a customer wants more privacy we take them into the back room. I'm going to work on doing some renovations with the space we have and maybe getting individual offices in the future."

"You should pray for your customers," my father suggested.

"We do," I replied, "every day, after the shop closes."

"You should pray during your sessions, maybe this is an opportunity to minister to them." My father continued with a smile.

I ran a hand through my hair, which was tied back into a hasty ponytail.

"I don't want to offend anybody, it could be bad for business… Not that praying is a bad thing." I added.

"I would love to do that." Arthur responded, " but we would never force anything on people."

My father nodded.

"Of course not, meet people where they are."

It was almost 5:30 PM by the time my parents left the shop and we promised we would be home soon after tying up a few loose ends. Overall, it hadn't gone as bad as I had feared.

I had neglected to tell my parents about Veronica and the legal issues we were facing at the moment, it would require too much explanation at least not any I could give off the top of my head. For the last week at least I had received no new notes and thought perhaps the assailant had given up, particularly now, having the police currently involved.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

The third note arrived in my mailbox late in the afternoon on Friday. It was the same envelope with the same writing with my name on it. Everything was the same down to the single plain card in the envelope with the bold black writing.

This note read:

soap and water cannot wash the truth; keep scrubbing to no avail… What I see cannot be washed away with brush, soap and pail

 

Hands still shaking, I punched out the number of the officer that had taken my case. Glancing at my clock, I saw it was almost after six and I figured no one would be at their desk unless they were working overtime and as I suspected, the phone went straight to voicemail. I left a quick message unsure at the moment when I would get a response back.

 

The response came the following week shortly after I had gotten home and I just caught the phone just as I was walking in the door.

"Hello?"

"Hello? May I please speak to Isabelle Cruise?" The male voice on the other end asked.

I tucked the receiver against my shoulder.

"This is she?" I responded, suddenly apprehensive.

"This is Inspector Lars, we may have a lead in your case."

9: Chapter 8

There was a beat of silence.

"Yes," I finally answered, "what did you find out?"

Inspector Lars cleared his throat before replying.

"We were able to determine the handwriting came from three different people: two males and one female." The inspector continued, "while we have no clear suspects we have possibilities."

I was perplexed and maybe a little frustrated.

"You're telling me this because…? When you have no clear leads?"

Inspector Lars voice softened.

"Be patient Miss Cruise, my team and I are doing the best we can… Right now it's all about narrowing the field of suspects, and right now that pertains to the people that go in and out of your shop. Is there anyone else besides Ms. Carlton who expressed a negative reaction towards your business?"

I chuckled quietly although the situation was far from funny.

"Plenty, particularly in the first few weeks of business."

"May I have a list of the people that were in and out of the shop in those two or three days leading up to the discovery of the first note and the list of people that were in the shop around the time of the vandalism?"

"Sure," I replied, "I'm sure I can find those for you."

 

The next morning, Tuesday, I raced around the shop between clients like a whirling dervish.

I remembered the dates of when the trouble had started, and of course I would never forget my opening day-February 26th. So much had happened between opening-day and the first time Veronica had first come into my shop almost a month later. The list was long hundreds and hundreds of clients and it took almost 2 hours to cross off the duplicates. It was nearly closing time by the time Carl Lars came to pick up the lists he had requested.

I knew it wasn't much to go on, but at least it was a start.

 

While the police were trying to narrow down suspects, life in the shop returned to normal, although some of my clients were jumpy about hearing what had happened at the shop, despite my assurances it wouldn't affect business. To add to all my stress the following day started off particularly badly. An error in my booking program had deleted part of my schedule so my clients were backed up through Saturday, I was frazzled despite Arthur's reassurances he would look into it and try to fix it.

To add to my stress, my 2 o'clock appointment had just left when the one person I wanted to see least breezed into the shop.

"Where is she, where's the woman that runs this shop?" Even from just listening I recognized Veronica's imperious voice.

"I work here too," Arthur responded quietly, "may I help you?"

"No! I want to speak to the owner!" Veronica demanded, she reminded me, despite her regal dress, of a five-year-old that wasn't getting her way. Tiredly, I rose from my spot at the back table where I was filing the notes for my previous appointment.

"Yes, may help you?"

"What is the meaning of this? Accusing me of vandalizing your quaint little shop! Why  I wouldn't dream of such a thing! Goodness having the police all around my house, well it just isn't good for my reputation."

Screw your reputation. I thought sourly, you deserve it.

"I never did such a thing," I replied carefully, "I simply want to find out who's responsible for sending such hurtful messages to me and vandalizing my storefront."

"Well it wasn't me, I can assure you." Veronica said haughtily as she fluffed her hair, which already had not one strand out of place. "If you have no more accusations to heap on me I'll be on my way." And without another word she swept out of the shop as quickly as she had come.

 

After the door slammed behind Veronica's departing figure, I sank down into the nearest chair. I felt like my world had massively slowed down and I was only dimly aware of the customers going in and out of the shop. I was thankful for Arthur who seem to have picked up the slack because at the moment I felt like I couldn't function. Fortunately, he noticed this.

"Isabelle? Are you all right?" He asked gently, as he ushered three customers into waiting chairs.

I couldn't answer, I felt like my body was frozen and I could only dimly hear the words and voices around me. Everything around me had shifted into a single point of light and everything else had dissolved into a gray black blur. I could only dimly hear my heart pounding in my ears, although it seemed to be existing outside my body as if I was watching everything from a different vantage point. Jasmine and Arthur were talking, their heads close together and Jasmine only nodded. I wasn't sure what they were saying, but judging from my brother's concerned look I was sure I was the topic of conversation.

Then Arthur was sitting next to me, rubbing my back and murmuring words I couldn't quite hear. Then my senses seem to turn back on; my head slowly clearing.

"Is, are you okay?" Arthur asked his hand still on my back.

Slowly I shook my head.

"Panic attack." I muttered." Stress, Veronica… Stupid stuff."

"You'll be all right." Arthur reaffirmed, "Jasmine and I will take the appointments for the rest of the day, okay?"

I nodded numbly as I watched Arthur bustle around the shop as I had been doing earlier that morning before everything had fallen apart.

 

The next morning seem to be a continuation of the day before and it was hard to be upbeat when I had yet another message spray-painted in red across my storefront. Clearly, I wouldn't be opening on time today.

The message was one word:

FRAMED!

This time I had the presence of mind to leave the scene as is until the police were called. Maybe this time they would be able to link the vandalism to the notes… If there was a connection. While the police including Inspector Lars processed the scene I scribbled a makeshift note to stick on the door of the shop.

POLICE INVESTIGATION IN PROGRESS… CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Thanks Isabelle, Arthur and Jasmine.

I gave Inspector Lars the information that had happened in the past twenty-four hours and he nodded as he scribbled things down on a piece of paper.

"We'll check with Ms. Carlton again, she's on the list to be brought in for a handwriting sample anyway. The list is quite extensive although many of these people I'm sure can be eliminated based on what we find out."

"Do you think it's the same person?" Jasmine asked tentatively.

"Possibly." Inspector Lars replied.

"It has to be someone younger," Arthur observed, "someone in their 30s or 40s isn't going to find spray-painted an  effective way to threaten someone."

"Is there anyone that came into your shop that might have done this?" Inspector Lars asked.

"Not that I know of." I murmured, it seemed to me the case had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

 

In the coming weeks I got regular updates from Inspector Lars. They were dividing the list by age group 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50+ and at the top of that list was Veronica although what her connection to the disturbances at my shop was no one was certain.

10: Chapter 9

 

The revolving door of suspects continued over the next few weeks; as I was updated regularly by Inspector Lars; no one yet, but they would get there eventually. Life continued on as normal in the shop although I was beginning to feel a bit drained. Just when I was about to have what someone would only describe as a nervous breakdown the call came, the call I had been waiting weeks to hear.

"Ms. Cruise we may have a suspect." Inspector Lars said in a grave voice.

I perked with interest.

"Who? Is it someone from my shop?"

"Surprisingly, no." The inspector replied, "A young man we're investigating who is in question after a subsequent search of Ms. Carlton's adjoining properties. We're going to question him further, I'll let you know when we know more."

 

Clearly Veronica wasn't happy about having her property searched and any employees she may have hired being questioned and searched because she skulking by my shop giving me dirty looks although she had no more verbal remarks. In Inspector Lars' follow-up phone calls the young man in question, a handyman of sorts, had been found with red spray paint in his possession both in his cabin on the grounds and in his home in the city. The police were still having trouble connecting the dots since where Veronica lived wasn't exactly in town and was one of two properties she owned, a condominium in the city and a large house outside of the city limits in a more rural area. Red spray paint had been found in the storage shed at the country house and at the employee's house in the city.

This however was where the case ran cold. The handyman was animate he had nothing to do with the vandalism and he liked to graffiti in his spare time (after all, the spray paint used was a common hardware store variety). So he was dismissed after day or so. Once again, I was left wondering.

 

It was as with frustration I recounted this to Celeste over lunch.

"What makes you so sure it was someone younger?" She asked.

"Who else would think vandalism is a good idea as a way of discrediting someone?" I asked, "An older adult isn't going to do that, it would be too risky."

I ran a hand through my hair.

"I don't know," I said, "this entire thing has me wound tighter than one of those annoying windup toys… I just wish they would find somebody so I can put this behind me and continued to run my business in peace."

Celeste patted my hand.

"Don't worry Izzy, they'll find someone, you'll see, just let them do their job."

 

I was afraid in the weeks following the apparent false lead on Veronica's handyman I was doing more harm than good to the clients. Finally my brother got so frustrated he sat me down one day with a suggestion.

"Isabelle, why don't you go on vacation, go do something, get away from here," he shook his head, "this atmosphere isn't doing you any good, all you're doing is upsetting our clients."

I sighed.

"You're right, maybe I should take some time off, clear my head."

 

So Friday afternoon I left work early and headed for home. I sent a few texts hoping to hear from the one person other than Arthur I knew could make me feel better.

Hey Colton, need you… Hoping to come out to CO for a week or two.

I'm free from the fifteenth to the twentieth, came the reply, what did you have in mind?

Skiing, relaxing… see you then.

Alright, see you then.

11: Chapter 10

I hadn't spoken to Colton in months; not since he had come out to me about five months before. I wasn't mad and I wasn't angry, I was simply so in shock I didn't have much to say even though propriety dictated I have an answer.

I had booked a flight to Colorado for Friday afternoon and planned on spending the next few days possibly through the middle of the following week there, at least as long as Colton could stay and get away from the work I knew he was doing. I exhaled as I sank down in my seat on the plane on the way to Colorado. I lost myself in my books and my music from the time the seatbelt sign was turned off to the time the plane landed at the airport.

Following my arrival in Colorado I picked up a rental car and drove to the resort where Colton had made the reservations the week before. When I arrived I had just picked up my key to my hotel room when I saw him, he was standing halfway between the check-in counter and the door I knew led to lodge and the slopes.

I smiled when I saw him. He looked as he had always looked, the same dishwater blonde hair that was tousled into some undefined style, his slightly rumpled T-shirt with a graphic I couldn't quite define, his washed out jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes. Above all, the most dominant feature of Colton's was his sparkling blue eyes, which were the first thing I always noticed about him something that told me instantly how his day was going without him saying a word.

"Colton! How are you?" I hugged him warmly, at the moment my mind couldn't formulate any more questions.

He grinned.

"Good. And you?"

"Good." I answered, although "could be better" was probably a more accurate assessment.

 

That evening Colton and I caught up and it was mostly over trivial things, the things we normally talked about when we were together: how Colton's job was going, or the rest of his schooling, my writing, or, most recently, my new business. At the moment, however, I wanted to avoid questions about the shop that wasn't the type of thing I wanted to discuss over dinner, Colton didn't even know the details of what my business actually was. I had never told him.

It wasn't until later Colton picked up on my mood. We were on our way back to our rooms when he stopped me in the hallway just short of my door.

"Izzy, is something wrong? You've been acting kind of funny ever since you got here… Like you expect something to jump out and scare you."

I shook my head and rubbed my temples.

"I have a lot on my mind," I finally said, "a lot has happened since I saw you last."

Colton nodded slowly.

"Alright… Just remember when you need to talk I'm here."

I nodded again and we headed for separate rooms and as his door closed across the hall I wished I could take him into my room, hide under the covers with him and he could hold me tight until all my problems went away. That's what I wanted to happen anyway. Unfortunately, that was far from what happened, we went our separate ways closing our doors behind us and I got ready for bed turning on my iPod which I had brought with me and as some country artist crooned from the headphones I mauled over my dilemmas before turning off the music, climbing into bed and turning out the lights. Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep wishing Colton was lying beside me, to bring me the comfort I so desperately wanted.

 

The morning, by contrast, was bright and cheerful and I woke up in a reasonably good mood. Colton and I ate breakfast in the lodge to the normal hustle and bustle of the knot of regular skiers that flowed in and out, dressed in varying amounts of ski gear, tracking in copious amounts of snow and a brisk wind as they went in and out.

After breakfast, Colton and I hit the slopes. Neither of us was a particularly good skier, but we were good enough we could get around without looking like idiots or falling down like the children in their puffy winter coats who wobbled and tumbled on their skis every few feet. We mostly stuck to the "bunny hills" and not the steep harsh slopes, but we were happy just the same talking about our runs, lunch and what else we would do for the day as we took the ski lift up the mountain.

We broke for lunch shortly after noon when we trudged into the lodge snowy, cold and pink cheeked.

Colton chuckled.

"Okay, I'm hungry now."

While the temperature back home hovered between forty and fifty, the temperature in Colorado where we were was barely 35, and that was on a good day with the sun shining and the wind not too brisk, so I opted for a hot sandwich, soup, and a warm beverage, it was just what I needed after extensive exercise and attempting to stay warm in the frigid temperatures. Colton had a sandwich and a cup of tea and we were sitting in comfortable silence before he asked if I wanted to go for another run.

We didn't go skiing again until later that afternoon and after we came back in and Colton had disappeared into his room, I headed for the spa, the lodge had accommodations so I might as well take advantage of them. I could swing a few hundred dollars just this once as a present to myself.

I returned to my room feeling warm and relaxed and to my surprise I actually fell asleep for a few hours and it was almost 4 PM by the time I awoke again. I took advantage of the Wi-Fi and checked a few things online and it was shortly after this there was a knock on my door.

It was Colton, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets.

"So…" He began, "when did you want to eat?"

I shrugged, glancing at the clock.

"In about an hour I guess." I replied. I laughed quietly, "I was so comfortable after my massage I fell asleep."

Colton smiled, the type of smile I hadn't seen on his face in a while, it was soft and warm and made me want to fall into it; like a freshly made bed.

"Alright, I'll see you in an hour."

 

Dinner was quiet and uneventful. I didn't feel like bringing up any of the topics I wanted to talk about in a room full of strangers even if most of the time it was too noisy to distinguish any one voice. Besides the hustle and bustle of the lodge itself was beginning to wear on me, and I was thankful we weren't sleeping here although the lounge area itself looked warm and inviting with a roaring fireplace or two.

 

Colton and I didn't talk until a few hours later, when the sun had begun to set outside the window of my room and the noise had died down outside to a quiet murmur.

It was almost dark when there was a quiet knock on my door.

"You said you wanted to talk Izzy?" Colton questioned.

I nodded as I lead him inside.

We sank down crosslegged on the bed and for silent for a beat before Colin spoke.

"What's wrong?" Colin asked with that concerned frown I had gotten to know very well over the years.

I sighed.

"Everything." I said, and then slowly, in bits and pieces the story came out.

"Wow." Colton finally said, "that's a rough about your shop, do they have any suspects?"

"One," I answered, "this customer named Veronica… But so far they don't know if she is directly responsible, last I was told her handyman had some suspect spray paint in a storage shed and at his home… But they can't connect him to it."

Colton nodded, his blue eyes sad.

"That's rough, Izzy, I'm really sorry."

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"Izzy, is there anything else bothering you, having a police investigation is a pretty big one I guess, but that can't be the only reason you came all the way out here."

I sighed again and took another breath.

"Well, you." I replied.

Colin chuckled, but I couldn't tell whether he was amused or embarrassed.

"Me? What about me?"

I sighed and stretched out on the bed.

"I don't know," I said softly, "it's complicated."

I didn't know where "it's complicated" began, probably somewhere between the time a perfectly normal day had turned my day upside down. When Colton had come out to me, even after all this time I didn't know what to think. That, if anything turned my feelings for him into a big muddle.

Colton stretched out next to me, his face opened and curious, a look I didn't see very often. "Why's it complicated?"

"Even after all you told me, even after all these months, I still have feelings for you."

Colton didn't say anything, he only nodded his face was impassive his blue eyes unreadable.

"Isabelle, I told you-I can't-" he began.

In a single movement he was sitting up and then he was sitting turned away from me not saying anything. For a long time silence stretched between us.

"I can't turn off my feelings," I said quietly, "but I feel like I can't express to you how I feel without crossing a line I know we shouldn't."

Finally Colton turned back to me and he stretched back out on the bed sighing, and for the second time in as many minutes we fell into silence, unsure of what to say.

For a while we watch TV, but after a while neither of us remembered what the show was even about and Colton turned it off. Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be."

"I-I-just want you to be here." I whispered, "sometimes I just want you to hold me, keep me here, like I'm going to drowned in everything I'm feeling."

Neither of us said anything but a few moments later Colton was holding me loosely in his arms we were facing each other just lying on top of the covers our breath coming out slowly and quietly. It was like that we fell asleep.

12: Chapter 11

I returned to work in a better mood than I had been in before I left, but some of that evaporated almost as soon as I walked back into the shop and saw Arthur's grave face.

"What?" I demanded, "what happened?"

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Jasmine asked, as she appeared at my brother's side.

"Well since it's unavoidable… What's the good news?" I asked.

"They got Veronica." Arthur stated.

My eyebrows rose, if I had been expecting anything it wasn't this.

"How?" I asked.

Arthur smirked.

"They found her monogrammed stationary, but she's fighting them all the way… Her lawyer says they better have better evidence."

"Did they find anything else?" I asked hopefully.

"Just a mess of fingerprints they are going through. Her desk was a mess; and they know now she has at least two accomplices possibly three… There's still one set of prints they can't account for and it doesn't match anybody Veronica knows."

"The plot thickens." I muttered darkly, shaking my head.

I looked from Arthur to Jasmine.

"And the bad news?"

In answer Arthur handed me a stack of mail; all on the same pristine stationary with my name on it in elegant script. Without opening them I knew what they were.

"I've only opened a few," Arthur said, "they're pretty nasty."

I absently flipped through the notes words jumping out at me:

witch, psycho, delusional and trickster to name a few, these were also coupled with a series of obscenities, which only made Arthur frown every time he looked at them.

"I only kept a couple to show you," Arthur explained, "the rest I'm giving to the inspector, I've been on the phone with him between clients all week."

My eyebrows rose again.

"What for?" I asked.

In answer Arthur gestured to the mail.

"We've been getting two or three threats a day, and Inspector Lars has been keeping me updated," Arthur shrugged, "and vice versa. This is getting very nasty Isabelle."

I shook my head, glancing down once again at the notes with their angry words.

"Yeah," I muttered, "no kidding."

 

The investigation continued over the next few weeks, but it seemed no one could break Veronica, she maintained her innocence even though evidence had been found at her home. The police had talked to even her closest friends, many who were on her side and refused to give information. The only two who agreed to talk were Roberta and Sophia, although Sophia wasn't much help and dissolved into a dither as soon as investigators started pressing her.

Roberta, however, was a bit more help. She recounted Vanessa's rants about me and the shop and how Vanessa assured her friends I would be sorry.

"Got anything to convict her yet?" I asked Inspector Lars when he called a few days later.

"Not yet, certainly nothing that would hold up in court… And we have yet to find the smoking gun."

"What about the vandalism charges?"

"Depends," Inspector Lars said decisively, "the person responsible may be able to get away with a misdemeanor and community service… If there was more at stake and property had been damaged… Then we're talking more."

I nodded even though I knew he couldn't see me.

"Have you found anyone connected to the vandalism yet?"

"No, not yet," the inspector replied, "she seems to be giving us the runaround, although we're positive the fingerprints we found on the spray cans were male and not connected to anyone who our prime suspect knows."

"Could it have been someone younger?" I asked.

"Possibly, but we haven't found any adolescence are young adults in acquaintance of her."

"Maybe nieces or nephews?" I asked hurriedly.

To my annoyance, Inspector Lars chuckled.

"Just let me do my job Miss Cruise, I'll let you know when I have something."

 

It was these stories and the account of my trip to Colorado that I recounted to Celeste when we met for lunch the Saturday after I returned to Chicago.

"So she's got the police going in circles." Celeste stated.

I nodded.

"Pretty much, it's like she is leading them on a wild goose chase. They have evidence but she keeps pointing her finger at someone else."

Celeste shook her head. "That's messed up, really."

I chuckled humorlessly.

"Tell me about it."

"How was Colorado?" Celeste asked changing the subject.

I shrugged. "It was okay."

"Okay! Okay? You went on a weeklong get away with a guy you've like since high school and you said it was just "okay"?"

I stopped her right there.

"First of all, he's my best friend, second of all, things can't go any farther than they are, trust me on this."

Celeste looked expectant.

"So…?"

"So nothing happened!" I exclaimed, "I wish, but nothing happened… You know how Colton is." I lead the comment hang.

"So what happened?" Celeste pressed, a smile curving her mouth and her eyes twinkling, she looked way too interested.

"We went skiing nearly every day, hung out, and ate breakfast in the lodge. We talked and had a few good heart to hearts." I didn't go into detail about what it happened on our second night there and how we had fallen asleep together.

Disregarding my salad, which was practically drowning in some overly creamy dressing, I sank my forehead into my arms.

"I just want this to be over," I muttered, "all of it. I just wish someone had a giant rewind button and I could start the entire year over." Before Colton had come out to me, and all hell had broken loose.

13: Chapter 12

I was having a bad day, and a bad day for me consisted of the usual inconsequential things that all piled up on one another and made me feel depressed and overwhelmed.

"Isabelle, get your head together," Arthur told me, "you're doing more harm to our customers right now then good." This was after he and Jasmine had been doing most of the appointments that morning.

I knew he was right of course, but that didn't make it any easier, and frankly, some days I just didn't feel like dealing with people and they were more trouble than they were worth. That was when  met her, it was a quiet afternoon, after Arthur and Jasmine had returned from school when the bells above the door of the shop chimed merrily.

I wasn't quite sure how to describe her except that she was unique. The young woman was maybe my age, she was a few inches taller than I was, although she looked much taller with her 4 inch stiletto heels. She was wearing a T-shirt and leather, but the most striking thing about her appearance was her hair, which was a multicolor array of black, pink, and blonde; kind of like a Neapolitan sundae. For the first time in days I felt intrigued by a customer, like I legitimately wanted to sit down and give a reading, but even before she sat down I was already reading her; she had a calm about her one I had picked up on since she had walked in the shop.

"Hello, may I help you?" I asked. That in itself was an odd question for me to ask because no one usually walked into my shop by accident.

The girl extended her hand, her statement short and clipped but not unkind.

"Diana Krause, I was wondering if I could get a reading… Or an appointment… Or…"

I frowned, chewing my lip, wondering what to do next.

"Please, sit down." I nodded at the chair at one of the nearby tables, we weren't that busy so I could let her wait somewhere other than the eight chairs that constituted as my "waiting room" in the front of the shop.

After nodding to Helene and Jasmine to take over the front desk I went to attend to Diana, who was sitting waiting patiently at the table.

"I like your shop." She commented quietly as I sat down across from her.

"Thank you," I replied, pleased by her complement, "call it my brain child." I chuckled self-consciously. "Now about your reading… I usually do readings by appointment, but I may be able to make an exception," I smiled, "just for today."

Diana smiled.

"I appreciate that. Most people don't take me seriously looking the way I do, they usually think I'm a goth or do drugs or something like that."

I nodded.

"Your perceptive, and you observe things quietly before speaking your mind. You're anxious and eager and want to do something with your life."

"How do you know that?" Diana asked, she didn't look surprised, merely intrigued.

I shrugged. "A few things I picked up."

Diana smiled again and I noticed her kind brown eyes ringed with heavy mascara, her lipstick was a deep shade of red; like blood or wine. For the first time in a while I felt a connection with a stranger that I usually didn't feel.

Diana looked around the shop.

"I like it here… It feels more like home, more than my home ever did. I left home when I was sixteen that been touring with my band since I was eighteen. My parents weren't the best, but they tried though… With a kid like me." She laughed self-consciously, "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

I leaned forward, intrigued.

"Do you ever sense things?"

"Yeah," Diana replied, "I always knew when my dad was drunk, or when my mom was scared… I guess that's why I tried to stay away from the house in the first place. That's why I turned to music, it says more than just speaking… More of what I'm feeling."

I nodded, I knew what she meant.

I was still pondering things as Diana left the shop, I sensed she was most likely an empath particularly given her artistic bent and perceptiveness; I would have to give her the test… And speak to the others about allowing walk-ins.

 

Meeting Diana was a respite in my otherwise hectic schedule, meanwhile business went on as usual and so did the news (and non-news) of my case against Veronica.

It was another quiet afternoon at the shop and I was between customers at the moment when the front desk phone rang and I was more than happy to hear the voice on the other end. It was Inspector Lars.

"I have news." He said in that clipped tone that I was getting used to.

"What news?" I asked warily, "all I have are a bunch of people who can't do their job."

Inspector Lars sighed.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." He responded, but he didn't sound mad.

"What is it?" I asked.

Inspector Lars was now all business. "I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is we found some evidence from the envelopes… The new ones and we have cause to search her Chicago penthouse; the bad news is, she won't let us anywhere near her."

I snorted.

Now that I can believe."

"She's threatening to file charges if we don't quit "harassing" her, she says she's been through enough."

"Can you prove she was the one that wrote the letters?" I asked.

"No, we can't, the handwriting on the letters isn't hers… It's distinctly masculine."

I frown, pursing my lips.

"What's that supposed to mean? Obviously she had an accomplice, but what guy would she know would agree to write these scathing letters."

"We can only guess," Inspector Lars replied, "and guessing won't hold up in court. It's obviously somebody she knows very well and is possibly intimate with… In one way or another."

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me.

"And the vandalism?"

Inspector Lars let out a gusty sigh, he sounded irritated.

"Hole in a flipping doughnut! It's like the perp vanished into thin air. No prints, no spray cans no nothing! This spray cans we found with the handy man were new cans, not used."

I sighed feeling as frustrated as the police officer on the other end. It was another dead-end.

A few minutes later I hung up, there wasn't much left to say or do except wait, which I may be doing for very long time. I was still sulking over the "no news" when the phone rang again- barely 12 hours later.

"Miss Cruise, it's Inspector Lars… I have news. When we searched Ms. Carlton's home yesterday we found a fountain pen. She insisted it wasn't what she used and that she has several, but we're taking it for prints and DNA anyway."

I grin into the phone, feeling happier than I had in weeks; hook, line, and sinker.

14: Chapter 13

"Isabelle, why don't you calm down; take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine."

This had been Arthur's constant refrain for the past two weeks, ever since I had returned from my trip with Colton. Jasmine had been repeating this as well, although not as firmly. I knew they meant well, really, they did, but even now it was beginning to get on my nerves. I knew I was wound tighter than a spring, but what could I do, I had a million things on my mind and the case with Veronica hovering over my head, and who knew when that was going to be resolved.

All I knew was Veronica's "admission" that the pens that were used on the envelopes were hers was a far cry from a full out confession, but at least it was a start. Even the detectives on the case knew she had accomplices, it was just an issue of weeding out the right people and who fit in where.

Once again I was meeting Celeste for lunch and updating her on the case, at the moment it was all I could do to keep myself from going crazy, as if by rehashing the information it would make more sense and be solved faster.

"So she confessed right?" Celeste asked, her brow furrowing.

I pursed my lips.

"Not exactly." I replied.

"What you mean 'not exactly'?" Celeste exclaimed, for the first time sounding outraged since our conversation had begun.

"I mean," I began carefully, "she admitted to owning one piece of evidence one; that doesn't exactly make their case. They haven't even found her accomplices." I shook my head, "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

 

"So," Celeste continued changing the subject, "how's business going?"

I nodded, "It's going." At the moment it was all I could say, which was better than nothing, or saying my doors were closed altogether.

"You lose any business over the investigation?" Celeste asked.

I shrugged. "Some, but not enough to make a sizable dent in the cash flow, none of my high-paying clients have stopped coming," I shrugged again, "so I'm good." I grinned, "You know I've had the shop open for nearly 5 months and you still than stopped by, I have to show off my baby."

Celeste laughed. "I bet! You know there is such a thing as work, but I'll see if I can stop by later in the day, you're open on Saturdays right?"

I nodded and smiled. I didn't tell her about Diana, for some reason I wanted to keep my budding friendship with the young musician quiet because she was one of the few people other than Arthur and Jasmine I felt understood me.

 

The next major break in the case came early the next week in a to the point call from one of the detectives working the case.

"Miss Cruise, we have a suspect in custody right now in regards to the notes. We have yet to pin something directly on Ms. Carlton, but we think her butler is involved… His prints were found alongside hers in a number of places; we also tied his handwriting to at least one of the notes, but we're not sure if he wrote them all."

Something inside me lifted.

"That's-that's great!" I finally managed, "thank you."

It took all I had not to shout with excitement from the rooftops. I couldn't wait to tell the others, it seemed things were finally looking up.

 

It was a late in the day a few weeks later when Diana came back to the shop. She was by almost on a weekly basis and had become a regular. Sometimes when I wasn't so busy we just sat in the back of the shop and talked, which was all I wanted. Today was a Wednesday and we were having another one of our typical conversations.

Diana, as I had suspected, was an empath, although she didn't have as many of the "side effects" as I did.

"My band Titanium is playing tonight at the House of Blues," she cocked her head at me, a dark swatch of her hair falling over one eye, "wanna come?"

I grinned and shook my head.

"How did you book that? You guys aren't even signed yet; you must have one heck of a manager!"

Diana chuckled.

"I know a guy, who knows a guy; connections baby!"

"Yeah, sure, I'll see if my brother's girl wants to come… She loves that kind of thing."

Diana grinned.

"Great! See you there. I'll leave passes for you guys."

15: Chapter 14

The scene at the House of Blues was about what I expected: a long line of concertgoers chattering excitedly, fussy security and ushers, and an auditorium packed with sweaty, writhing bodies. A typical general admissions concert.

Jasmine and I picked up our passes at the small cramped box office and we then made our way into the small auditorium which was already milling with people, thankfully there was still a few spots open in the first couple rows behind the barricade… If there was time before the band went on we could go into the pit itself.

Finally, after what seemed like forever Titanium took the stage. Diana was clearly the lead singer; the rest of the band members were all guys; the drummer with short spiky blond hair; he looked like he was between the ages of seventeen and nineteen, the keyboardist who was maybe in his early 20s, and was wearing washout jeans and some sort of graphic tee. Then there was the lead guitarist who was to Diana's left just behind her, he had shoulder length brown hair and was wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt with the name of the band. He was, again, in his 20s and was very good-looking, but in a normal sort of way, which made him a bit more attainable than Orlando Bloom.

Diana stepped up to the mic and now I could really see she was really in her element.

 

"Hello Chicago!" She yelled, "so good to be here; are you guys ready to rock it?"

The crowd screamed, and then the band launched into their first number, a song called "See Me".

The band went through two songs before Diana spoke again.

"It's so great to be here," she said again, "my name is Diana and we are Titanium." Then she introduced the band members by name and what instrument they played. There was Doug on the drums, Charlie on the keyboard, and the guitarist and bass player the guy that I had noticed earlier, Kyle. Diana also played multiple instruments, including guitar and piano. I grinned, she definitely had a gift, like so many of the artists I saw every day.

Afterwards Diana and the rest of the band met Jasmine and I backstage. Once again Diana made introductions. Everyone was super nice the type of people I would like to know particularly if they had musical intonations. I still couldn't take my eyes off Kyle for some reason, he was one of those people I was drawn to, but I wasn't sure if that was a legitimate attraction thing or an empath thing because sometimes you connected with a person you barely knew for no apparent reason. So I made a mental note to examine that particular feeling later, maybe when I eventually figured out what it was I felt for Colton.

It was while the guys were otherwise occupied I had a chance to talk to Diana.

"How do you deal with all the noise and all that energy?" I asked.

Diana shrugged.

"Look," she said pointedly, "I didn't even know there was anything special about me until last week. I just roll with it I guess. I have ear monitors to keep the noise down; and most of the time the energy is a good thing."

I nodded it may not be my exact situation but I understood what she meant.

I would definitely keep in touch with Diana, the friendship was definitely something worth exploring.

 

The next morning I would have had to drag myself out of bed if it hadn't been for my four- legged fuzzy alarm clock i.e. Sapphire. He jumped on my bed a little after seven and began pawing at my face with his fuzzy black paws.

"Alright, alright," I grumbled, as I shoved him off my torso, "I'm up, I'm up." Sighing, I tossed back my covers and slid out of bed, quickly casting about for my slippers, which I found halfway across the room. I walked out of my bedroom with Sapphire at my heels.

"Okay, first things first breakfast for my pretty boy, then it's breakfast for me and off to work. You know Sapph, the shop isn't going to open itself."

Sapphire looked up at me, a shrewd, intent look in his dark blue eyes, before looking at his food bowl again, and meowed pointedly.

 

The morning was going well, much better than it had the past few weeks and I was working at a good clip having just wrapped up two appointments when Celeste walked in the door. For the first time since lunch I looked at the clock, shocked to realize it was after 1 PM.

She looked around.

"Nice little place you have." She said smiling.

"Thank you." I replied smiling, "Sorry Celeste, I'd love to chat, except Arthur and Jasmine will be here any minute and I think both of them have a client in about ten minutes. My next client is until two so I have some time to chat."

Celeste shrugged and smiled.

"Hey, I'm flexible." She said, and just as she finished speaking Arthur and Jasmine walked through the door their backpacks still slung over their shoulders.

"You both have clients in ten," I told them.

Arthur only smiled as he and Jasmine dumped their book bags behind the front desk. As he walked around behind me Arthur dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

"Will you relax Isabelle? I have enough time, our clients today are a couple of college students… I think they'll forgive Jas and I if we're not exactly on time." Arthur was halfway across the room towards the back before he turned around and spoke again and noting Celeste he asked: "Do you want me to take these clients back into the back offices?"

I nodded.

"At least tell my client comes at two."

Once Arthur and Jasmine had disappeared to prepare for their appointments I turned back to my friend.

"So what can I do for you today?" I asked.

Celeste grinned.

"Well providing I'm not disrupting business, a tour would be nice."

News on my case against Veronica had been coming slowly but steadily and it wasn't until the second week in May before there was another major break.

The phone rang on a quiet afternoon between clients and as I had been expecting if was one of the biweekly calls from the detectives handling my case. It was an update, fortunately with some good news.

"We have a confession." Inspector Lars announced.

I blinked in momentary shock.

"A confession? From who?"

Inspector Lars sounded almost pleased with himself.

"The butler."

That had been the last answer I was expecting, although when I thought about it in made sense.

"How?" Was all I said.

Over my shoulder, everyone in the shop had paused in their activities and I knew they were all listening.

"We brought him into question him about the evidence and his fingerprints found on the pen and the desk, and that's when the story gets really strange." He paused for effect, "Yes, the butler did write the letters, but only the messages, it was Veronica who addressed them… Apparently so not to tie herself to the messages themselves."

I snorted, it was people who thought like that that got away with murder.

"I also think we have a lead on the vandalism as well."

At the mention of the damage that had been done to my storefront my spirits lifted.

"The butler said he didn't do it… He took the spray cans, but they were given to someone else."

I frowned.

"If the handyman had them…? But then who spray-painted the storefront? If they were given to someone else? Wouldn't another set of prints have shown up?"

"You would think." Inspector Lars replied, "The thing is, we still haven't found the cans that were used for the crime."

"But that's crucial," I spluttered, "with so many people involved there's no way they could have disappeared."

16: Chapter 15

The witness came forward a short time later, a witness, who not only confirmed the butler's story, but gave us one more piece of the puzzle. The witness, a man in his mid-60s had seen the butler in front of the shop early on Saturday on his way out of town with a couple of spray cans, there was no way he could get out of this one.

The call came almost exactly 24 hours following the last call and this time Inspector Lars said the one phrase he almost never said while starting a conversation with me.

"I have good news." He said.

I held my breath, daring to hope; half excited, half anxious.

"What?" I burst out.

"We have your vandal." Inspector Lars announced proudly.

"Who?" I asked shortly.

Inspector Lars' tone was dismissive. "Just some random kid on the street, by the name of Leon Schmidt. Apparently our witness Mr. Owens, saw the butler flag him down; he tagged the shop window."

"I didn't think a seventy-year-old butler spray-painted my shop anyway." I said dryly.

To my surprise Inspector Lars chuckled, and that was the first time I had ever heard him sound amused.

"Well if there isn't anything else Miss Cruise I have to get back to tracking down Ms. Carlton; she's tricky that one."

 

I didn't see a picture of the butler, one Arthur Ferguson, until I saw the paper the next morning. The once sophisticated butler just now looked like a garden-variety cranky old man, from the picture in the paper he appeared to be scowling. Also accompanying the article was a picture of the kid that had spray-painted my shop. Leon Schmidt appeared to be about nineteen, dark skinned, with short dark hair and thin features. He was wearing baggy clothes and a sullen expression typical of many people his age.

I was folding the paper in satisfaction, preparing for my 11 o'clock client when the bell above the door jangled. A young boy about eleven walked into the shop. He had short brown hair and was wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt that was maybe a size or two too big.

"Hello," I said pleasantly, "may I help you?"

"Uh… Yeah," the kid said, shuffling his feet awkwardly, "the lady in the nice car said to give this to you she said you would know who sent it."

Even as he was handing the cream colored envelope over I was already putting the pieces together.

"Thank you" I said politely even though anxiety was clawing at my throat.

"You're welcome." The boy said quickly, "I got a go, I have to meet my mom, she said she would kill me if she knew I was crossing into the busy part of town again." He added. With that, he darted out of the shop.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the letter he had dropped off. It was the same as the others, a cream colored envelope with my name on it and that was it. Only this time the writing inside was the same as what was on the front… Clearly this had been written after Arthur Ferguson had been arrested.

The note was written in sharp angry cursive.

You ruined my life!

I had her! As I looked up from the note I found myself smiling and that's when I saw her.

Veronica.

 

"Glad my misery amuses you." She said coolly. She was the same as the last two times I had seen her, her dark hair in a severe bun and wearing elegant clothes; this time accompanied by a pair of delicate aviator sunglasses.

This time I wasn't even rattled. She was mad, obviously, but now she didn't seem that much of a threat, clearly the investigation had rattled her.

"You realize you made a mistake." I told her calmly, "I believe you just cooked your own goose."

"What!" She exclaimed sharply, "I did not! I just wanted to see you and your phony shop go out of business."

"Well I'm sure the inspector's going to want to hear your confession." I said, sounding much calmer than I felt, which in itself giving the circumstances was a miracle. Then without so much as a glance at Veronica I picked up the phone and dialed Inspector Lars.

"Yes, Inspector, she's at the shop right now… I have another note."

17: Chapter 16

Life calmed down drastically after Veronica's official arrest. Daily life in the shop returned to normal and everyone was smiling again, me, Arthur, Jasmine and our clients.

There were fewer calls from the detectives now, only a brief call notifying me of the date of a hearing to wrap up the details of the case. The hearing was set for the second week in June, almost four months after the entire fiasco had begun

 

It was late in May when Colton came home. I hadn't seen him since our brief trip in April, which left things awkward and unresolved. He came through the door of my shop on a Wednesday morning, thankfully at the moment I was between clients.

He looked out of place in my quaint little shop like he didn't really belong there and he looked around curiously shifting his feet nervously in a way I always associated with him.

"Colton!" I exclaimed, rushing around the desk to meet him, "hi… How are you?"

We embraced and Colton chuckled.

"I'm good, you?"

"I'm good," I replied, "better than I was when you saw me last I think."

For the first time since he had walked in the door, Colton pulled back and smiled at me, his blue eyes twinkling creating amused crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He gave me a critical look.

"That's good," he finally said, "I'm glad."

It felt good to have Colton home, it always did like when he finally came home I felt like a part of me wasn't missing. At the same time, however, I was used to him being away it was like a wounded that had scabbed over, but never truly healed. Holding each other now I didn't feel out of place, I didn't feel like I was getting less or more than what I should, for the moment everything was perfect. I was content.

 

The morning of the hearing I closed the shop with plans to open later that afternoon, the hours were weird that day but it was the best of both worlds being able to close out a rough patch in my life but at the same time being able to move forward with the day to day.

 

I had never been inside the courthouse before, it was an imposing building with wide empty hallways that echoed when you walked. They echoed even more so if you happen to be wearing classy, expensive high heels. For the first time in almost 6 months I had pulled out one of my pants suits and put it on choosing a pair of elegant simple flats, I had to look presentable, but I wasn't overdoing it.

The hearing was scheduled for 10 AM and it was sometime afterwards the clerk, judge, and Veronica and her lawyer filed in I followed soon after taking a seat in the third row down in the courtroom. I had been told the proceedings would be simple, the charges would be stated and the suitable reprimand for each, the hearing for Arthur Ferguson was scheduled for later that month and the vandalism charge against Leon Schmidt would follow sometime in July, but as of right now Veronica's charge was the most important to me since it carried the most weight. Any such punishment I thought would be fair justice.

Veronica looked classy as usual, but she lacked some of her poise, studying her profile she looked a bit rattled.

I was only half listening to the judge and only perked up at the end when he finally read out the final sentence.

"… The defendant Veronica Carlton is hereby reprimanded to a $350 fine and will serve her time for the next ninety days working out of Ms. Cruise's shop."

That had been the deal, Veronica would work for me for three months so all the money in damaged property I had lost would be paid back to my business. As the sentence was read out I saw a muscle flinch in Veronica's jaw, she wasn't happy about the outcome, but at least she was holding her tongue. She wasn't in the stereotypical jumpsuit, of your average criminal, but she was still being held accountable, and yet, she wasn't the woman that had walked into my shop all those months ago.

I had my justice, and that was good enough for me. My shop would continue to do well and Veronica now becoming a part-time employee was just the icing on the cake she could cover for Helene or Amber when I needed her to, and I thought Arthur and Jasmine would be a good influence on her, even though they were almost 10 or twelve years younger than she was. She was nothing but a poor little rich girl and needed some life lessons.

 

The hearing was over as abruptly as it had started. After reading charges, hearing statements from the parties involved, and reading the final sentence everyone was dismissed. I watched as Veronica was led away, she was wearing a sour pouty look and I couldn't wait to see her show up at the shop the following week. Her ninety days of service would begin then, going till the beginning of September.

I rose as people began to file out of the courtroom. I had enough time to go home for lunch and return to the shop later that afternoon. As I walked out into the sunshine it felt like a brand-new day, and I walked down the courthouse steps feeling empowered. I wasn't the same person I had been six or even four months ago; if there was one thing I had learned since losing my job in January it was I could get through things. Things may be tough or slow going but at the end of the day no matter what the obstacle I was unstoppable.

Smiling, I walked out into the summer sunshine.