I spend nearly two hours in Greta’s room. She tells me more about her time in the carnival—she’s actually quite entertaining. She has me laughing out loud at the story about how the carnies fought the mandatory daily shower rule by having a shower strike that lasted a grueling two months.

“By the end,” Greta says, “I had to walk around with a clothespin on my nose. Have you ever tried to read somebody’s palm with a clothespin on your nose?”

“I can’t say I have,” I say. “I do not recommend it.”

“Did you have your own room there?”

She adjusts her billowy white nightgown. “I shared a room with Bernie. He was my husband.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “I didn’t realize you were…”

She continues to play with the fabric of her nightgown. “We met at the carnival. I was only nineteen when I met him. I didn’t speak much English. He taught me. We were together for over thirty years.”

“Was he psychic too?”

She smiles distantly. “Oh no. He did not have the gift. He would run games or rides for them or whatever they needed. We were not blessed with any of our own, but he loved the children who came to the carnival. He loved seeing the smiles on their faces. And then…”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “What?”

“One morning, he did not wake up. The doctors said it was his heart.” One side of her lips quirks up although her eyes are wet. “Bernie liked his corn dogs and curly fries. You did not have to be a psychic to know it would do him in. But I am grateful for the years we had together.”

I feel an irrational stab of envy. I can see on Greta’s face how much she loved this man. I never felt that way about Derek. I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel that way about a man. Somehow, true love has eluded me. Maybe I’m immune to it.

“Do not worry.” Greta’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “You will find love. I promise you.”

I cock my head to the side. “Is that what you see in my future?”

“No. You are young and beautiful. Some things are simply obvious.”

Right, but she does not know my past. She does not know what I’m running away from. If she knew, she might not be so optimistic about my future.

The thought of what I left behind makes Greta’s delicious lunch churn in my stomach. I should not be sitting here chit chatting with an old woman. I’ve got to get back on the road. I look down at my watch. “I should check in with Nick. Maybe the plow has arrived.”

“No. It has not.” “But maybe—”

“I am able to hear the plow through my window. Trust me—it has not arrived.”

I wipe my hands on my jeans and get to my feet. “I better get going anyway. But… thank you for lunch. Would you like me to bring the plates downstairs to the kitchen?”

“No, please don’t bother yourself. Nick will fetch them later.” She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure you will not let me read your fortune?”

I hesitate. It was a firm no before, but I’ve gotten to know Greta. I like her. And she seems to really want to do this. So why not? It’s better than sitting around my room, pacing back-and-forth as I wait for the plow to arrive.

“Okay,” I say. “Sure. Go for it.”

Greta smiles at me. “You will not regret this.” That remains to be seen.

She reaches out to dim the yellow lamp by her bed. And now the room is strictly mood lighting. I am sitting beside her on the bed, and she reaches out to take my hands in hers. Her skin feels so delicate, like tissue paper.

“Relax your mind,” she instructs me. “How do I relax my mind?”

“Clear out all thoughts. Make your mind blank.” Easier said than done. “Okay…”

She closes her eyes, but I keep mine open. She tilts her head back and her eyelids flutter. “Yes. You are very accessible to read. You are an open book.”

Oh. Wonderful.

“I see…” Her eyelids flutter again. “There is a man in your past. A very handsome man.”

“Yes…” I’m not impressed quite yet. There are plenty of handsome men out there.

“Yes, yes…” Her fingers apply pressure to mine. “He was somebody you loved, but you don’t love him anymore. He is…”

My breath catches in my throat, and I’m suddenly hanging on her every word.

“You are frightened of this man.” Her eyes crack open. “You feel he means to bring you harm.”

I swallow. “Well…”

“But the question is,” she goes on, “will he? What lies in the future for you and the handsome man?”

The pressure of her fingers on mine grows uncomfortable. I want to pull my hands away but I don’t dare break the spell. Suddenly, she lets go of my hands and jumps away from me, like I’m made of fire. Her eyes fly open. “You must go!”

“What?” I stare at her uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

She takes a step back, like she’s almost afraid of me. “You go now. You… you are… danger.”

I stand up, my legs trembling beneath me. “You mean I’m in danger?”

“I’m sorry.” She backs up again until she hits the wall. Or the mirror, as it were. “You must go now, Quinn. Go! Go out of here!”

“But…”

“Get out!” she shrieks. “You must go! Get away from this place!”

The veins are standing out in her neck, and her eyes are bulging out in their sockets. I don’t even understand what’s happening. Why is she freaking out like this? It was her idea to tell my fortune!

I’m afraid she’s going to start throwing things at me, so I obediently stumble out of her room.

For a moment, I linger in the hallway, stunned. Was that for real? Or was it all a performance, like Nick said? I can’t even tell.

Then something hits me.

She called me Quinn. Somehow, she knew my name.

All right, now I’m officially freaked out. I definitely never told her my name. I said I was Kelly, and she called me on it being a fake name, but I never corrected her. So how did she know my name is Quinn?

I close my eyes and I can still see her panicked face. The veins standing out in her neck and on her temples. Screaming at me: Go! Get out of here!

What does she think is going to happen if I stay here?

What horrible thing did she see in my future?

This is ridiculous. She has to tell me the truth. This isn’t

fair.

I knock on her door. Then I knock a second time. Then a

third.

Okay, she’s obviously not answering.

I have a sick, horrible feeling in my stomach. I don’t know what she saw in my future or if any of this is real, but I

agree with her on one thing: I need to get out of this place. Now. I’ll go sit in my car until the plow gets here if I have to. I return to my room and throw everything back into my luggage. It doesn’t take very long. Regretfully, I leave the boots behind in the room. I’ll have to do what I can with my

sneakers.

As I take one last look at the room, I look out the window at the house across the way. The sun is still up, so it’s hard to see, but I can just barely make out the shadow of a woman sitting in the window on the second floor.

Rosalie.

I wonder why she’s on the second floor. If she can’t walk, why wouldn’t she want to stay on the first floor? Why would she trap herself upstairs?

I shake my head. There’s no point in thinking about this anymore. Nick’s wife isn’t my problem anymore. And I’m sure she’ll be happy I’m gone.

I take the stairs down as quickly as I can go. It’s hard with my bulky luggage, but I need to get out of here. I’ve got this horrible feeling I don’t have much time.

Nick is at the front desk when I come down. He sucks in a breath when he sees me with my luggage. “What are you doing, Kelly?”

“I… I have to go.”

He frowns. “But the plow isn’t here yet. I told you I would call you when they came.”

“I can’t wait anymore.” I heave my bag onto my shoulder. “I have to get out of here. I’ll wait in the car until they arrive.”

“But it’s freezing out there. What are you going to do? Run the heat for the next two hours? Your car is going to die.”

He has a reasonable point. But I can’t stay here. “Maybe they’ll be here sooner.”

“No, they won’t. They called me and told me they’re delayed. They might not be here for hours.”

I’m struggling not to burst into tears. “Well, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I let my heavy bag drop onto the floor. “Greta told me that… She read my fortune and said that I’m in danger.”

Nick just stares at me for a moment. Then he bursts out laughing. “Are you serious? I’m sorry, but… really? That’s not really why you’re leaving, is it?”

“It was…” I dig my thumbnail into my palm. “It was creepy. She seemed to know things about me. And even she seemed freaked out. It felt… real.”

“Well, it wasn’t. Believe me.” “But—”

“It. Wasn’t. Real.” He says it with such conviction, it’s hard not to believe him. “She’s a performer. That’s what she used to do for many years. She’s not psychic. Come on, Kelly. That’s crazy.”

“It felt real,” I insist.

He shrugs. “That’s because she’s good at it. You know what she does? It’s called cold reading. She told me about it once. She watches you as she says things and looks for subtle cues in your facial expression and body language that tell her she’s on the right track. She did it for a living for thirty years. She’s really good at it.”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Yeah, but I know, and I’m telling you. That’s what she does.”

I look down at my luggage next to my sneakers. I want to believe that was all a performance. I don’t want to go sit in my cold car, waiting for that plow to come.

“It’s very easy,” Nick insists. “Even I could do it. Watch.” He shuts his brown eyes and massages his temples with his fingertips. “I’m looking into your past. I’m seeing… a man. A very attractive man. Your husband.”

I stare at him. “That’s exactly what she said.”

The left side of his lips quirks up. “Right. Well, you came in here wearing a wedding ring. And obviously, you think your own husband is attractive. So…”

“Yes, but…”

He massages his temples again. “And now I’m seeing a horrible fight between you. Something terrible. And now… now you’re running away…”

I take a step back. “How did you…?”

He shrugs. “You’re not wearing your ring anymore. And come on, you’re obviously running away from something. I’ve never seen anyone so panicked.” He looks me in the eyes. “You’re pretty easy to read… Kelly. I don’t need to be psychic.”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself by clutching the desk. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m overreacting to something that was obviously a performance. Maybe I told Greta my name without realizing it. It’s certainly something I could’ve done unconsciously.

“Okay,” I say. “I… I guess I’ll wait for the plow.”

He nods. “That’s a good idea. I promise I’ll call you as soon as they get here.”

“Okay, thanks.” I take another deep breath. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“You’re going to be okay.” He reaches out and puts his hand on mine. His fingers are a little rough and calloused, unlike Derek’s baby smooth skin. For a moment, a thrill goes through me. But then he pulls his hand away. “Just hang out upstairs. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”

I take my bag and trudge back up the stairs. Despite his reassurances, something is telling me I’m making a horrible mistake by staying here.