Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,61

White bunny boots and a royal purple coat, that was more of a cloak, completed the ensemble. Rosie helped Siri out of her cloak, while Siri stared at Gemma.

Oh Lord, she hoped her mother wasn’t off her meds.

“Mom?” Gemma prompted. “You okay?”

Siri blinked her dark blue eyes rimmed with thick black lashes. Her shocking red hair was long and curly and had yet to fade with age.

Gemma glanced at Rosie who shrugged. Aunt Rosie was the complete opposite of Siri. Her brunette hair had been left to gray naturally, and cut in a no-nonsense bob. She wore jeans, a man’s flannel shirt and a sensible parka that she shrugged off, along with removing her gloves and knit hat. She resembled Gemma’s father who had died when she was eight that it sometimes hurt to look upon her. Gemma took their coats and hung them up behind the counter.

She turned back to find Siri’s eyes burrowing into her, as though trying to see into Gemma’s soul.

“Gemini Star, what have you been up to?”

She hated it when her mother looked at her like that. “What do you mean?” She’d better clarify. She’d learned early not to volunteer information.

“You’ve been touched by a Dreamweaver.” Siri continued her slow sweep, traveling up and down Gemma’s simple brown slacks and cream cable knit sweater. “Tell me you haven’t given yourself to him.”

“What? No. What are you talking about?” A premonition prickled up Gemma’s spine, and she tried to suppress the sudden need to shudder.

“You mustn’t do it. Do not invite him in. Your soul will be compromised.”

“Huh? What? Mom, you’re talking nonsense.” But it didn’t feel like nonsense. Sometimes the things her mother said were downright freaky. Her dream lover was just that, a dream. No more. Unfortunately she knew enough having been raised by her New Age mother not to completely discount the supernatural. There was too much out there left unexplained. But a Dreamweaver? What the hell was that?

“Siri, let’s get you a cup of tea.” Rosie shared a here-we-go-again glance with Gemma.

“Yes, tea. Must have tea, and then we’ll consult the cards,” Siri said.

“Mom—”

“I’m reading your cards today, Gemini. You can’t stop me. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

Oh great.

“Siri, you have a full day of customers scheduled today,” Rosie said. “Let’s concentrate on them first. What do you say?”

“Fine. You’re right of course. But if there’s time....”

Gemma mouthed “thank you” as Rosie turned Siri toward the café. Amie, the barista who had been with Gemma for years, already carried a tray with a brewing teapot, along with matching cups and saucers to Siri’s favorite bistro table right in the middle of the room. No disposable coffee cups for her mother. Tea was a ritual and needed to be respected as such with purified water and a specialized Silver Tip White Tea imported from Sri Lanka.

“This looks charming, Amie, thank you.” Siri adjusted her skirts as she sat. “So, Amie, when are you due?”

Amie looked at Gemma, her eyes wide with panic and then back to Siri. “No, ma’am, I’m not pregnant.” She smoothed down the fabric of her apron as though to show off the flatness of her stomach.

“Hmm, interesting. I see a new baby in your immediate future.” Siri shrugged and helped herself to one of the shortbread cookies also on the tray.

“Amie, I’m going to need a brownie this morning,” Rosie said, attempting to get Amie’s attention off her nonexistent bump.

“Coming right up.” Amie undid the ties to her apron and wrapped them around her front, tying them tighter around her middle as she walked back behind the counter to get Rosie’s brownie.

Gemma hurried across the café and whispered over the dessert case, “You know not to take anything she says to heart, right?”

“Yes, I know that,” Amie said. The mass of bracelets on her thin wrist jangled as she slammed open the bakery case. “But I’m late. Gemma, I can’t be pregnant, I just can’t. Drew hasn’t even asked me to marry him. And I don’t know if I want to marry him. A baby? What am I going to do with a baby? I’m not ready to be a mother.”

“Stop. It’s nothing. Nothing.”

“But you heard her,” Amie’s voice rose in worry.

“Yes, and last Tuesday she told Mrs. Halverson that she’d find cockroaches. This is Fairbanks, Alaska. Have you ever seen a cockroach?”

Amie took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out. “Right. Okay, but you know I’ll need to leave early so that I can