Better Read Than Dead Page 7

  “Did you bring two sets of tarot cards?” I asked as he drove, remembering our little tutoring session before the reception.

  Kendal tapped his left pocket and said, “I’ve got it all covered.”

  “You sure I’m going to be able to pull this off?” I asked apprehensively.

  “Sugar, if anyone can pull this off, you can. Really, it’s a piece of cake. Trust me.”

  Anytime someone says the words “trust me,” it’s a pretty good indication that you’d be wiser to head for the hills. I squirmed as we got off at the exit for downtown, and took calming breaths as we drove into the parking structure across from the casino.

  “So what’s the scoop on the bride and groom?” I asked as we walked toward the casino. “I mean, it’s a little odd to have a couple of psychics entertaining at your wedding reception.”

  “They’re getting married on Halloween, so I doubt having us attend is odd for them.”

  “Good point.”

  We headed into the Plaza Casino and through a brilliantly lit foyer. We found the concierge desk, and Kendal asked about the wedding reception. We were directed down a corridor to the left of the foyer and made our way briskly to the appointed ballroom. As we walked through the double doors my eyes got large looking at the lavish decorations and opulence of the place.

  I don’t know what I imagined—something like little pumpkins for centerpieces, and orange and black streamers in a cacophony of bad taste—but the room had no trace of that kind of thing anywhere.

  The tables were dressed in brilliant white tablecloths with ornate floral designs and votive candles demurely providing much of the lighting. The chairs were wrapped in huge chiffon bows of autumn rose, and soft pink Christmas-tree lights wrapped every pylon, and hung in a drapelike fashion from the ceiling.

  The bridal party was to be seated at a long table on a large dais, raised slightly so that even those in the back sections could see the bride and groom clearly.

  Over to one side was an extravagant table with a large ice carving of a mermaid and tray upon tray of crab claws, jumbo shrimp and oysters. The opposite side of the room held the dessert table, literally strewn with small confections of chocolate, and in the center sat an enormous three-tiered wedding cake with a basket-weave pattern, and sugared leaves in various fall colors spilling down each tier.

  There was a flurry of activity as banquet workers hurried to set each table with sterling silver and gilded china and fold each napkin into a swan. There was enough room to seat 350 attendees, and I had a brief moment of insecurity as I thought about how many guests we’d have to read to even make a dent.

  Just then a short, round woman with a bad case of helmet hair waddled over to us. She wore an earpiece and a small microphone over one ear, with a cord connecting it to a phone clipped to her skirt. She carried a clipboard and a permanent scowl, which was so stern it made me move behind Kendal and avoid eye contact. “May I help you?” she asked crisply.

  “Yes, hello. You must be Constance, the wedding planner?” Kendal asked.

  “Correct,” the woman answered impatiently.

  “I’m Kendal Adams, and this is my associate, Abigail Cooper. We’re the psychics hired for the party.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said as she read from the clipboard, “you’re very early.”

  “We just wanted to get set up and be prepared by the time the guests arrived,” Kendal explained smoothly.

  Constance’s scowl transformed itself into a snarl, which was quite possibly her version of a smile. “Very good. We’ve got you two set up over there in the back corner by the dessert table,” she said as she pointed to a small section curtained off and nearly invisible from where we stood. Kendal nodded and motioned with his head to me as we took our leave of the wedding planner and moseyed over to the far end of the reception hall.

  We reached our assigned area, rounding the curtain, and as we had a chance to survey the scene we quickly smiled at each other. The section behind the curtain had been subdivided, separated by yet another curtain. Each small section held a tiny table, two cushioned chairs and two votive candles for light and ambience. We would have to speak softly so as not to drown each other out, but other than that it was a good setup.

  “This is perfect,” Kendal said.

  “It’ll do,” I said as I took off my coat, wrapping it around one of the chairs. Kendal did the same and sat down across from me at the first table. “Are you ready for your tarot lesson?”

  “Should I take notes?” I asked, reaching for my purse. I had included a small pad of paper and pen in my purse before leaving the house.

  “No, it’s really not that complicated. You should pick it up right away,” Kendal said as he retrieved two tarot decks of large cards from his jacket pocket. “I teach intuitive tarot, and being that you’re already a very developed clairvoyant, this should be an elementary exercise for you.”

  I looked at the decks he had placed in front of him. They were oversized, about one and a half times the size of regular playing cards. Their backs were black save for a silver pentagram painted squarely in the middle. I reached forward and picked up one of the decks curiously, turning it over and surveying the faces.

  They were richly decorated with strange and detailed scenes on every face. Some held snapshots of events caught in midmotion: a man chasing a woman around a banquet table, two swordsmen in the heat of battle, two people climbing up a cliff. The tarot deck was much thicker than a regular set of playing cards, however, and I wondered how Kendal could possibly teach me the meaning of each card in so little time.

  “The secret to reading tarot is not memorizing a bunch of traditional meanings and then regurgitating that for your client,” Kendal said. “I mean, anyone can do that. What sets you and I apart is our ability to interpret the metaphor displayed on the card.”

  I screwed up my face, giving him a “huh?” expression, and Kendal smiled patiently at me. “Let’s start at the beginning. Tarot is an art form with roots that date as far back as ancient Egypt. The cards were developed to be used as tools to assist in triggering your subconscious thoughts—and not, as some people believe, a literal translation of the picture on the card itself. In other words, the magic is in you, not in the deck. The card is only the catalyst for the thought, a thread leading to a much richer fabric, so to speak.”

  I nodded, even though what Kendal was saying was about as clear as mud, and I began to worry that I wouldn’t be able to catch on in time for the first wedding guest. “Uh-huh,” I said uncertainly.

  Kendal smiled patiently and tried a different tack. “Okay, let’s take an example, shall we?” After I nodded he laid down his deck in front of me. “Let’s say we want to know what’s coming up in my life, so we’ll set the intention and think about what we want to know, then flip over a card.”

  I nodded again, and he said, “Now focus on my energy and ask in your mind what’s about to happen in my life.” After a moment in which I set my concentration and focused on his energy, he flipped over a card, revealing a picture of a large sun. “Can you tell me, just by looking at this picture and seeing what it reminds you of, what’s coming up in my future?” Kendal asked.

  Without hesitation I said, “You’re going someplace warm and sunny—south, like Florida or the tropics.”

  Kendal laughed and replied, “See? See how easy this is? Now, the truth is that I don’t have anything like that planned, but you never know—my mother lives in Tampa, so maybe I’m going to visit her soon.”

  “Cool,” I said, encouraged. If that was all I had to do then this wasn’t going to be so hard after all.

  “Let’s try another, shall we?” And Kendal flipped over another card. This one was a picture of a woman walking through an archway of three swords. I couldn’t see her face but there was an instant feeling of betrayal. I stared at the card for a brief moment, letting my mind go where it wanted, and said, “There’s a triangle here. Are you cheating on Rick?”

  K
endal looked at me, his brows lowering slightly as he said defensively, “Absolutely not.” Then he looked closer at the card and said, “Ah, the three of swords. I think this card is probably meant for you. . . .” He let the rest of his sentence hang and I averted my eyes. I’d almost forgotten the earlier part of my day.

  Kendal grabbed up the two cards in front of me and said quickly, “Don’t worry about it; you’re a pro. If you get stumped just lay down a spread and use your own method. No one’s going to be paying attention to the cards; they’re only going to want to hear what you have to say.”

  I nodded, swallowed hard and after a moment looked up again. I seriously needed to get a grip on my emotions here. “So how do I lay them out? I mean . . . I know there’s a pattern to how the cards are laid down, right?”

  Kendal nodded and said, “Yes, most definitely. I’ll teach you the simple Celtic cross method; it’s the easiest to remember.” I watched as he shuffled the deck briskly, then laid out two cards in a perpendicular fashion, then four more in a circle surrounding the first two. He then set down four additional ones in a column alongside the circle, for a total of ten cards. Tapping the first he said, “Position number one represents the client, and describes him or her as a person while position number two indicates what is helping or hurting that client presently, like if the client were worried about their job, this card could be a coworker who was undermining their efforts at work.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  Kendal smiled and said, “Positions three, four and five are the past, present and near future, respectively, and cards six through ten talk about specifics of that future. For instance, number six indicates the client’s attitude toward that future, number seven is about their hopes and fears, number eight represents friends and family, nine is for environmental or general surroundings . . .”

  “Huh?” I interrupted pointing to the eighth position. I had no idea what he meant by that.

  “Ummm . . .” Kendal said, thinking of a good example, “What I mean is that this card could represent the client’s surroundings, the environment where he lives, what his home is like, what his work is like etc.”

  “Okay, I got it,” I said waving for him to move on.

  “And last but not least, number ten talks about the final outcome, like if your client stays on the path that you’ve laid out for them, this will be the end result.”

  My brow furrowed as I struggled to take it all in. There was a lot to remember so I pointed to each card and recited, “Client, helping or hurting, past, present, near future, hopes and fears, friends and family, environment, and final outcome.”

  “Good job!” Kendal said proudly, “See? You catch on fast. Now, let’s talk about the suits. Just like a regular deck the tarot has four suits, pentacles, wands, swords and cups. These four represent the four elements: wands are air, swords are fire, cups are water, and pentacles are earth. They also represent the four directions and the four seasons.”

  “Oay,” I said trying to force my memory to retain all this information.

  Kendal continued, “For example, pentacles are north and winter, swords are east and spring, wands are south and summer and cups are west and autumn.”

  “North-winter, east-spring, south-summer, west-autumn . . . got it,” I said pointing to each suit.

  “Good! Okay, last and most important, the suits represent the four facets of man; wands for creativity, cups for emotion, swords for intellect and pentacles for work or money like income.”

  “Okay, I think I’m catching on,” I said as my brain swam with information. Easy as it seemed, it was still a lot to take in.

  Kendal chuckled and patted me on the arm reassuringly. “Hey, don’t sweat it. If a card stumps you, you have two choices: You can lay down another card or two until you get the whole picture, or you can just close your eyes and use your own method to get there. I’m confident you’ll be just fine.”

  I nodded as my throat tightened up and little butterflies fluttered in my stomach. The last time I’d felt this way was nearly five years earlier, when I’d done my very first reading.

  Kendal got up and picked up his jacket. “Listen, I’m going to go next door to the other table and get squared away. If you need me, just holler.”

  I got up too. “That’s fine. I think I’ll head over to the bar and see if I can’t find a bottled water. You want anything?”

  “Bottled water sounds good, thanks.”

  “Back in a flash,” I said, and rounded the curtain.

  The very first wedding guests were just now arriving, and I walked briskly to the bar, not wanting to get stuck in a line that was sure to fill up fast. I caught the eye of a young bartender, who winked at me and said, “What’ll it be?”

  “Two bottled waters, please,” I said putting a dollar in his tip jar. I took the waters he gave me and was making my way back toward our area when I noticed two huge baskets set to one side that I hadn’t seen before. Taking a quick detour I trotted over to investigate, and saw they were filled with dozens and dozens of masquerade masks. There were black masks for the men, and white masks for the ladies, each one beautifully decorated with intricate beading and silver or gold lace ribbon.

  Ah, so this was the Halloween theme coming into play, only instead of wearing tacky rubber in the shape of ghouls and goblins, this bride had chosen a masquerade theme. Nice.

  I trotted back to our tables, and handed Kendal his water. He was already getting into mode, doing some deep breathing and sitting straight in his chair with his eyes closed. I figured I’d better join him, so I took my seat and closed my own eyes. In the background I could hear the energy of wedding guests burbling with excitement and laughter as they tried on their masks and got their first drinks and made their way to the crab claws. I tuned them out and focused on calling out to my crew, where I had a one-way mental conversation that went something like this: Gang, I need your help tonight. Please assist me in any way you can, and if I get stuck reading the cards, please fill in the blanks. Don’t let me fall on my face, okay? My right side felt light and airy; my crew would assist all they could. Feeling more confident I opened my eyes and was surprised to see a masked woman already seated in the chair across from me.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t know if you were ready, so I just thought I’d wait until you opened your eyes.”

  I giggled at being caught so unaware, and said, “No problem, I’m ready.” I very nearly forgot the tarot cards at that point, but remembered suddenly and began to shuffle nervously. Stalling long enough I inhaled deeply and asked the woman her name and birth date, then turned over the first card.

  The picture on the card was of a man holding a painting palate in one hand, a paintbrush in the other, and sitting before an easel that had several wands already painted there. Immediately I said, “This says you’re very creative, but it’s more than that. Like you’re big on decorating, or even that you’re an expert at decorating or painting or something.”

  The woman giggled and said, “I’m an interior decorator.”

  I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Okay, this was going to work. I continued with the cards and laid down another. The picture held a queenly-looking woman with dark hair, holding a pentacle in one outstretched arm. “I get the feeling you’re very good at what you do, but you have a client right now who’s holding out on you. A woman with dark hair hasn’t paid her bill yet, and you have a cash-flow problem until this account is settled.”

  “Oh, my God! That is so true! One of my biggest clients is a woman with dark hair, and she’s been ducking my calls to pay up!”

  I relaxed and let myself sink back in the chair, realizing I’d been holding myself very tightly until now. I’d been so worried I would have trouble doing the conversion from free-form to interpreting the cards, but this was like child’s play. I continued on with the woman for ten more minutes and then ended the session. She beamed at me and got up excitedly. “D
o you have a business card?” she asked.

  “Certainly,” I said, reaching into my purse and pulling out a pile of them. I laid all but one on the table, and handed it to her. I felt confident now about advertising.

  “You were wonderful,” she gushed.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” I said humbly.

  The woman trotted off, and no sooner had she gone than a young, very good-looking man with jet-black hair, dark brown eyes and olive skin stepped around the corner. Unlike the woman who had just left me, he was maskless. He sat down and we shook hands. “Hi, I’m Jimmy,” he said.

  I shook his hand and noted, “Not one for the masquerade theme, eh, Jimmy?”

  He chuckled and explained, “No, it’s not that. I’m the groom. The rules are that everyone wears a mask but the bride and groom.”

  “Oh! Congratulations! I didn’t know the bride and groom were going to get a reading.”

  “Yeah, my wife’s idea. She’s in with your partner right now. We wanted to get in before the party started rocking so we’d have a chance to see you two. Ophelia loves psychics. She’s always going to see them. That’s how we met, you know.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, the woman she used to go to told her she was about to meet a man at the grocery store, and I guess she described me to a T. Well, Ophelia goes to the store every night for two weeks, but no one looks like the psychic describes. Then one night she’s over at her aunt’s house, helping with dinner, and her aunt needs some goat cheese or something. Ophelia doesn’t want to go to the store to get it because she said she didn’t look good, she’d been lounging around all day. So her aunt insisted that she go, and wouldn’t you know it? I got in line right behind her.”

  “That is a great story,” I said, smiling. I wondered if Ophelia knew how lucky she was. This young man had wonderful energy. “Okay, Jimmy, you ready?”