Indigo (For The Love of Purple #1) - Audrey Faye Page 0,1

travel demon that the nice Indian restaurant we drove by in Victoria would be a great idea, but she never even took her foot off the gas pedal. She just turned north and headed over the Malahat and now I’m in that part of Vancouver Island that’s mostly home to senior citizens and the people who have escaped city life to try their hand at organic farming. I know this because some of them escape back to Vancouver and tell stories in hushed tones to their wide-eyed friends over fancy coffees at Starbucks.

I’m not seeing anything that looks like farms, although April probably isn't a booming month for growing things. Not that I would know, really. I’m a city dweller going back five generations, which is about as long as there have been cities in Canada.

I take the next exit I come to. If I’m lucky, it will lead somewhere interesting. Hopefully to food. My stomach is suddenly seriously regretting the lack of Indian food in the immediate vicinity. I grin and give it a pat. My belly doesn't initiate most of my travels, but it’s definitely one of the primary beneficiaries.

I'll stick that line in someone's chart reading the next time I get bored. I've had a lot of earnest, loyal, hardworking clients lately, and all of them want to hear that they have a fun-loving revolutionary living inside of them.

Sadly for them, I'm the wrong astrologer to pick if you want to hear lies. I also have a soft spot for the earnest, loyal, hardworking denizens of the world. Blue's chart is that down to the ground, and she’s one of the very best things that’s ever happened to me.

I spy a cluster of buildings around the next bend, and then a sign for a town. Perception Bay. My Sagittarius wiggles happily in the driver’s seat. It’s an intriguing name, and given how cute the buildings on the outskirts are, maybe even a place with some history and character to explore.

Which will keep all of the personalities that make up my chart happy.

I slow down for a curvy descent. When I come around a particularly sharp bend, the view breaks open in front of me. Ocean and misty coastline forming a hollow below me, nestling one of those cheerful villages that happen when fishing and prosperity and cute little shops collide.

Delight blooms in my belly.

I drive down the rest of the hill even more slowly, so I can gawk. I pull into the first spot I see on the curb of what’s obviously the main street in town. Time to explore. A quick look at the funky red building outside my window so I don’t have to spend hours trying to find my car later, and then I step out into the cool air, slinging my bag over my shoulder and inhaling deeply of salt and mystery and incoming adventure.

My feet start moving, following some secret guidance system they’ve never shared with me. I look around. It’s April, but it’s not one of those spring days that hints of impending summer. This one is cold and drizzly and my Cancer moon has no idea why we’re not tucked in front of Blue’s fireplace with a good book. But it does mean that I get to ramble without worrying about navigating around other gawking tourists.

I may have a teensy problem with walking into people.

In my defense, it’s worked out pretty well. It’s how Violet and I met Blue.

I peer in the window of a shop that sells the kind of knickknacks I break and Violet spends half of her life decluttering from the homes of her clients, but they’re displayed by someone who clearly has a sense of humor. I grin at the cute pigs who are having a salt-and-pepper shaker argument.

The next window is full of rich, colorful fabrics. Pillows. Blankets. Home decor of the handmade and really interesting variety. I make a mental note to bring Violet when it’s warm and sunny. She loves out-of-the-way places for her treasure hunting.

The next shop is a bakery, and my stomach tries valiantly to drag me through the door. For good reason—it smells like heaven on a day when they’re having a really good party. Thoughts of Indian food are still teasing at me, though, and if I sit down with a loaf of bread and start talking with whoever made it, I won’t get to see the rest of Perception Bay.

Which suddenly feels important, in that strange kind of