Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I fish inside my pocket and bring it out. “I like keeping it close.”
June raises an eyebrow as Beth asks, “Is it helping?”
“Maybe a little.” I don’t want to disappoint her. “I actually wanted to get something for my mom. She’s gotten into meditation and yoga, and she loves animals…well, dogs, really. She brings her Yorkie, Minnie, everywhere.” Thankfully, her fur is hypoallergenic.
“Is she small enough to fit in her pocket?” June muses.
“Practically.” We share a smile. “Anyway, she struggles with her health—due to asthma—and sometimes needs breathing treatments. Which is why she’s tried yoga to help with stamina and meditation for breathing.”
“Good ideas,” Beth replies. “Fresh mountain air might do her good as well.”
“Yeah, probably. She doesn’t travel a lot, but I thought maybe she’d enjoy a gift from Aqua Vista.”
“I have just the thing,” Beth says, and we follow her inside, where she heads to a shelf. “How about a clear quartz crystal and an amethyst? They have healing properties.”
“I like that.” Though I can’t see Mom keeping them in her pocket like I do. I consider all the jewelry Mom wears. “Too bad they don’t come in bracelet form.”
Her eyes light up. “I can certainly make one for you.”
“Seriously? That would be amazing.”
“Come back to the shop before you leave town, and it’ll be ready.”
Apparently, Beth is also a jack-of-all-trades. “Thank you.”
I turn to June, who’s grinning, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. In fact, I didn’t even hear any small talk between the women, so now I’m speculating.
“Will your shop be participating in the art fair?”
“Yes, I’ll be there with bells on.”
I smile. “I have no doubt.”
“Why? Do you plan on attending?” June asks in an excited tone.
“Not likely. I’ll be back home by then.”
Beth throws me a knowing look. “You never know. We might just see you there.”
Well, that’s odd. But she does claim to be intuitive, so maybe she knows something I don’t.
“I bet she’s fun at parties,” I say to June once we’re back outside. “Probably tells people all sorts of things.”
“Whether they want to hear them or not,” June mutters, and I’m taken aback. Beth seems perfectly lovely to me, but maybe she is slightly pushy.
“Has she ever…?” I motion with my hand, unsure of the proper description to use. “Used her intuition on you?”
“Sure. You can’t live in this town and not have some sort of interaction with Beth that involves hunches about things.” Her eyes are cloudy, and she shuts them briefly before they clear. “She means well. Though she might not always understand the impact of her words.”
I frown, wondering what she means. “Do you think she feels compelled to tell people stuff they might not want to hear?”
“Probably something like that. But like I said, she means well.”
“Has she ever been wrong?”
“Definitely,” she replies, effectively changing the subject as she pauses in front of Slice of Life. “Want to go inside?”
“I’d love to.” Especially since I promised the shop owner I would before heading out of town.
The place is busy, a line forming at the cash register, and I can see why. It smells divine, and given all the freshly baked offerings on shelves and pies behind the glass counter, I’d become a regular too if I lived here.
“What are these?” I point to the colorfully decorated cutout cookies like my mom used to make, except these are in the shape of bones and fire hydrants.
“Oh, she makes them special for dog lovers.” I notice the all-natural sticker affixed to the packaging.
“They’re probably more nutritious than the stuff we eat,” I remark, and June snickers. “I think I’ll get some.”
I grab a half dozen and wait my turn at the counter as I peruse the pies. No way I could eat one of those myself, so maybe I’ll ask if she offers them by the slice.
“Nice to see you again,” Mindy says as she rings me up. “Unfortunately, we ran out of banana cream pie.”
“That’s all right. I’m sure I’ll be back.”
She smiles as she takes my card. “Are you willing to donate a dollar to support the local dog sanctuary?”
“Absolutely.” Which gives me an idea. “I’ll donate two. And add more cookies.”
“Perfect!”
Once back outside, we stop to watch a kids’ chalk-drawing contest in front of a garden area and then an older gentleman on a park bench playing ukulele. “That’s Mr. Goodson. He plays for his wife.”
“His wife?” I look around. “Where is she?”
She points upward. “Apparently, in the clouds somewhere, looking down.”
That gives me pause. The sweetness of it and also the peculiarity. But given the mix of joy and melancholy on his face, he enjoys it, so why not.
And then there’s the lady trying to coax her hairless cat out of a tree. “Not again,” June says to the woman.
“I’m afraid so.” She produces a can of sardines from her pocket and opens it while cooing to the wily feline, who’s obviously not stuck because it jumps down immediately. I have to wonder if the cat only holds out for its favorite treats.