doing cappuccino readings tonight,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “And since we’re all focused on Emma’s personal life right now, I suggest she come to the cup first.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, I don’t know, Dawanda.” But Dawanda grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the table, as all the women started insisting.
Emma followed Dawanda to the back of the room, searching for a way out of this. When she couldn’t find one, she told herself that this was all in fun. No big deal. Relax.
She sat down at the table and watched Dawanda and Kaitlyn hurry around, gathering the needed supplies. A mug with a handle. Coffee. Steaming milk.
“I don’t suggest you actually drink that,” Janice said, standing near the table. “You’ll never get to sleep tonight.”
“She doesn’t have to drink it,” Dawanda offered. “But this is caffeine-free so she can if she wants to.”
“Sounds like you thought of everything.” Emma inhaled deeply, her nerves suddenly on edge. She didn’t want to know what her future held. The future was a scary thing. What if hers was destined to be short and incomplete like her mom’s and grandma’s?
Dawanda slid the cup in front of Emma, turning the handle to point directly at Emma’s chest, and then ceremoniously poured the steaming milk into the beverage’s center. The crowd closed in to watch. The fudge shop owner leaned in over the cup, her blue eyes pinned to the white froth that moved slowly, forming shapeless blobs. At least they were shapeless if you asked Emma.
“Hmm,” Dawanda hummed.
“What? What is it?” Emma asked, even though she really didn’t want to know.
Dawanda concentrated, unblinking, her breaths shallow as she studied the foam. “I see a rose.” She pointed at one of the circular blobs that did kind of look like a rose with a thin jagged line traveling down the cup. “A rose blooms in the spring and summer, but the petals fall away in the winter months. It’s as beautiful as it is painful. You can look, but be careful grabbing that kind of flower.”
Emma shook her head. What was that supposed to mean?
As if hearing her thoughts, Edna said, “What the heck does that mean, Dawanda?”
Dawanda straightened and blinked as if she were exiting a trance. Her gaze fell on Emma, the look in her eyes making Emma feel a knot of dread in the center of her chest. “Emma is blooming this summer, and it’s going to be beautiful,” she finally said.
But there was more that Dawanda wasn’t saying. It would be short-lived, and winter was sure to come.
“What happens after summer?” Emma asked.
Dawanda reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We all have seasons. The thing about roses is that they’re resilient. They come back year after year, stronger and more vibrant every time.”
“Can’t get rid of them even if you wanted to,” Janice agreed from the group, making a few women laugh.
Emma didn’t feel like laughing though. Instead, something about her reading left her feeling unsettled.
* * *
Jack needed to go home and shower after a long, hot summer day in the park. He was overdue to visit his mom though. He hadn’t seen her since he’d stopped by to get the box of Jenny St. James’s things to give to Emma on her birthday last week.
Jack pulled into his mother’s driveway and cut the engine. Since divorcing his father almost a decade ago, his mom had lived alone. She worked part-time as a dental assistant and spent the rest of her time tending to her garden. Sam would’ve gone stir-crazy staying with his grandmother this summer, even more so than he was with Jack.
“Mom?” Jack called, opening her front door and stepping inside. “It’s Jack.”
“In the kitchen,” she answered back.
Jack headed in that direction, finding her sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. She set down the book she was reading and pulled off her reading glasses.
“I didn’t know you were stopping by this afternoon.”
Jack shrugged as he dipped to hug her. “Just checking on you.”
She tsked. “No need. I’m fine, but it’s always nice to see you. Where’s Sam?”
“With friends. I’ll have him stop in to say hello tomorrow.”
His mom nodded. “Good. I’ll bake him some cookies.” She lifted a brow. “Yes, I know he’s not a kid anymore, but I remember how much teenagers eat.”
Jack chuckled and then noticed that his mom was wearing a nice pair of pants and new top. “You look like you’re going somewhere. Hot date?” he