Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
He did Spirit sessions and Tarot readings too—he had a special set of cards that were passed down to him from his Mother—she of the cigar box beauty fame. Despite their age they hadn’t faded a bit and the intricate patterns in golden ink stamped on their backs remained as fresh as the day they had been made.
The cards were special—almost as special as the keys that Pop-pop had begged me to keep with me always. I stored them in a shoe box in the small safe under the front counter of the shop and only took them out occasionally to look at them and remember my Grandfather.
I sighed as I got out of the shower and dried off. Thinking of Pop-pop still made me feel sad and guilty. I was sure he had given his life for me, though I wasn’t quite sure how he had achieved it. But he had only been sixty-five when he died—and a really young sixty five at that. I was sure he might have lived longer if things hadn’t gotten so bad with Carlo…
There my mind went, straying back to my no-good ex again. Why was I thinking of him so much this morning? He was out of my life for good and I no longer had to worry about him hitting or hurting me—or making rude, belittling comments about my weight, either.
Yes, I admit it—I’m curvy. I have full breasts and big hips and “thunder thighs”—at least according to my ex. But guess what? That’s just too damn bad. After the season in hell that was my marriage, I had decided not to try to conform to anyone else’s standard of beauty. I used to starve myself, hoping I could please my husband. Now if I wanted that extra donut, I was damn well going to eat it.
After all, it wasn’t like I was ever going to get married—or even date—again. My time with Carlo had made me extremely wary of every other man on the planet. All except my Grandfather, of course—Pop-pop had never raised a hand to me, even in my rebellious teenage years. He was never anything but loving and kind and patient and understanding and…
And I was crying. Sniffing, I swiped at my eyes as I pulled on some clothes. My closet was still kind of chaotic because, while I had boxed up all Pop-pop’s clothes, I still hadn’t been able to make myself donate them. So the small walk-in was crammed with cardboard boxes as well as my own colorful wardrobe.
Back when I was married, I dressed mainly in black. Not because I liked the color, but because it was slenderizing and made my juicy behind look a little less massive. But now I didn’t care about hiding my curves—in fact, I liked to flaunt them.
I found a red silky blouse with flowing sleeves and paired it with a long, deep blue skirt covered in red flowers. I wrapped a scarf around my head, letting my long wavy black hair hang down behind it and added a string of gold beads as well as the thick silver necklace with the keys Pop-pop had left me.
A pair of soft red flats finished the outfit which—while it wouldn’t work if I was employed at a bank—did just fine for running the Magic Supply Shop my Grandfather had left me. I looked like a Traveler Princess which was good—customers like to see someone mysterious behind the counter. Or so Pop-pop always claimed—especially the tourists who came in to ogle at our eclectic mixture of magical artifacts and New Orleans souvenirs. So I did my best to dress the part.
I went to the small kitchenette and fed Miss Sassy, who had been meowing almost non-stop since I stepped out of the shower. I put her morning can of soft cat food on a dish beside the automatic feeder and the automatic watering tank I had bought her at great expense. She routinely ignored the dry food that the feeder dispensed, though she would drink from the little reservoir below the tank as long as I changed the water daily.
She’s damn picky, my cat—probably because Pop-pop spoiled her rotten while she stayed with him during my disastrous marriage. Carlo refused to have a cat in his house—he claimed he was allergic but the truth was he was just an asshole and he didn’t want me to have anything at all that might make me happy.
“Ugh, this stuff smells!” I told her as I served her the “tuna delight.” “Don’t know how you stand it!”
She just twitched her tail at me as she dug in. She was getting a little bit chunky, but she still did a great job keeping the mice and rats out, so I didn’t think it was fair to put her on a diet when I refused to put myself on one.