"Oh, I'm sure it was. He even earned part of the money through perfectly legal means."
When I laughed, she said, "He was very quick to tell me that he took on errands to raise money for gifts. Note that he never said all the money."
"It was important for you to know that he'd worked for it. Not that picking pockets isn't work, but that your gifts were special. He put both thought and effort into them."
She fingered the cards, her gaze distant. "Yes, I suppose so. I always thought he didn't want me to think poorly of him, but in our family, light fingers are a skill to be admired. It was the additional effort that mattered to him."
A long sip of her tea, as if to wash away any sentimentality, and then she laid the cards out for me. I knew the drill and took one.
"That was fast," she said. "Not surprising for someone with a touch of the sight herself."
It was the Queen of Swords, which Rose says is my card. I looked it up once, and got as far as seeing that one of the meanings, under the reversed format, included the word "bitchy." The card today, though, was right side up. The next one I drew was the King of Pentacles. Gabriel's card. Then the King of Wands.
"Are you sure you can't just see them?" Rose asked.
"If I could, I made a mistake there. Ricky is the Page of Wands, right? That's what I got before."
"Page evolving into King. Apparently, evolving rapidly."
Which he was, moving into his role with the Cwn Annwn, showing his strength and his leadership with the rogue Huntsman and with the broken hound.
"Now," I said to the cards. "Tell me something I don't know. Gabriel, Ricky and I will..."
I turned over a card showing a thief making off with an armload of swords.
"The Seven of Swords," Rose said. "It signifies secrecy and selfishness, doing something for yourself at the expense of others. Possibly hurting others in the process. It suggests someone will--"
"Betray me." My gaze slid to the King of Pentacles card.
"We're asking the cards about an event concerning you and Ricky and Gabriel. Yes, there will be a betrayal. Most likely to you as a group, rather than between you."
I nodded, but must have looked unconvinced, because she said, "I know Gabriel has--"
"Can we just continue? Please." I turned over another card before she could answer. The Hermit, reversed.
"Signifies isolation and darkness." She tapped her fingers against it. "It can mean an overabundance of introspection, but the sense I get is darkness. A dark and empty place."
"Gabriel, Ricky, me, dark place, betrayal..." I exhaled a little in relief. "Okay, no offense, Rose, but I think your precognition is running on a delay. That happened about four months ago."
"Yes, there was a betrayal, but it did not lead to you being in that dark place. Connected in time, rather than circumstance."
I turned over two more cards, which didn't add anything to the mix.
"Gabriel, Ricky, me, dark place, betrayal," I said again. "That's all I'm getting, isn't it?"
"That's what I saw in my premonition. The three of you, both together and divided. In a dark place. And..." She shook her head. "And that's all." She began collecting the cards.
"No, it's not. What else did you see?"
She said nothing until I prodded again, and then only, "Shadows, violence, anger, a struggle..."
"A struggle?" I prodded.
"A struggle against a violent impulse. Someone who desperately does not want to do something and yet the impulse..." She knocked the deck against the desktop, straightening them. "The impulse isn't strong enough to come to anything. But it's dangerous nonetheless."
"Can I get anything more concrete?"
She looked at me. "My nephew is involved. I would not hold back if I knew more."
"So beware dark places, dark impulses, and betrayals. That last one can't really be avoided, though. Unless I'm the one doing the betraying."
"Which I cannot imagine."
I wrapped my fingers around my teacup. "But I am, aren't I? Betraying Gabriel."
Her blue eyes bored into mine. "You have done nothing to Gabriel, Olivia. Nothing except good. Whatever choices you've made, they were because he offered no other option, and because you are free to pursue your own happiness rather than wait for something that may never come, because someone is too damned dense..."
She trailed off as I looked up at her.
"And that's not what you meant at all," she said, leaning back. "Which is a relief. Also rather awkward. This betrayal you were referring to, then..."
"Patrick."
She refilled her tea and mine. "Not telling Gabriel that Patrick is his father."
"Like I didn't tell Gabriel that he's Gwynn. Apparently, I haven't learned my lesson."
She gave me a hard look. "I'd hope you realize it's not the same. But now that things are going well with Gabriel, you're anxiously scanning the ground for any obstacle you could trip over."
"I--"
"You hate that. You hate fretting and worrying. You think, if it's a solid relationship, it should be smooth sailing. Like it is with Ricky."
"I don't--"
"Ricky is easy. He demands nothing of you. Expects nothing of you. You see eye to eye on most things and when you don't, you accommodate each other, effortlessly. Smooth sailing. Gabriel, on the other hand, is a wild ride through stormy waters, both exhilarating and exhausting."
"Yes." That was all I said, all I could say. Yes.
"I wish I could tell you it'll get better. But Gabriel will never be Ricky. I would also rather he didn't find out about Patrick. The problem, though, is that he will eventually, and it's better coming from someone who cares about him."
I sipped my tea. "Ioan almost let it slip. Patrick makes sly comments, and I'm sure he's always done that because it amuses him, but now I react when he does. Gabriel is going to figure it out. It apparently wasn't exactly a well-kept secret. It just wasn't important at the time. He wasn't important."
Rose was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "I could tell him, but I really think it's better coming from you. He's not going to run, Liv. At least, not far and not for long. You know that now. As hard as it was the last time, it was only Gabriel retreating temporarily."
"Behind his wall."
"Yes."
"Which I can climb, but I'm never going to knock down."
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"No, I know that. I've always known--"
The front door opened. Rose called, "Gabriel?"
"Do you need more time with Olivia?" he replied, his voice echoing from the hall.
She glanced at me. I shook my head, and she said, "No, come in and join her for tea while I start dinner."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Gabriel and I were in the kitchen, washing dishes while Rose met with a client. We'd almost finished when he said, "I have a question, one for which the answer may be obvious to most, but I am going to ask it anyway."
"Shoot."
"It's about gifts."
"Abilities, you mean?"
He set a plate in the drying rack. "No, presents. There are times when a gift may be considered a presumption. For example, giving someone a pet."
"Yeah, unless they ask for it, that's never a good idea."
He paused in washing another plate. "So if the giver is not certain that the gift will be well received, it shouldn't be offered, no matter how pure the intentions."
"Not if that gift requires paper training."
"A poor example, then. I mean a gift that is given with all good intentions, knowing there is a chance it will seem presumptuous. Perhaps if the recipient has already declined the gift, but the giver believes it is actually desired."
"You do realize you're talking in riddles, right? I need concrete, Gabriel. Is this something for Rose? Tell me what it is, and I'll give you my advice."
He washed all the cups before saying, "I'm not looking for advice. I'm looking for absolution in case I've made a grievous erro
r." He folded the dishcloth and laid it aside. "Enough of that. I'll show you, and if I have indeed made a mistake, understand that it was well-intentioned."
--
I saw where we seemed to be heading but said nothing, even as Gabriel paused to open the front gate of the Carew house.
"No, I'm not buying you a house," he said. "That would indeed be presumptive. Also unnecessary, given that your net wealth will outstrip my own in a few weeks. And yes," he said as he ushered me through, "I know you don't like to be reminded of your inheritance, because you feel you didn't earn the money. But it isn't as if you stole it."
"I think I'd feel as though stealing it was earning it in a way. Even if I probably shouldn't admit that."
"If you did, you would be admitting it to someone who would hardly judge you for the sentiment. You have earned this inheritance, though, by birth."
"Adoption."
He led me up the front walk. "You did not ask for the money. You do not expect the money. You will not use it to feed some bad habit. It will be re-invested, and you've made it quite clear you'll continue to work. Your inheritance will simply make life easier for you, and there is little to argue with about that. If you must, you can give some of it to charity."
"If I must?"
"I don't see the point, but I'm told that's a minority opinion."
"No, it's just a minority of people who admit to it. And to change the subject, ooh, we're actually going in the front door. This is new."
He made an uninterpretable noise in his throat. As he turned the knob, my gaze lingered on the knocker, a brass cuckoo's head. A good marriage omen. I'd seen it before, but only now did I see how detailed it was. Like the fence, it wasn't the sort of thing you pick up at your local home improvement store. It was only as he was prodding me through that I noticed a shiny new deadbolt.
"Did the elders...?" I began.
He brushed past me to turn off the security alarm.
"New locks and an alarm system?" I said.
"Yes. I..." He cleared his throat. "I took the liberty--"
"There's furniture," I said, moving into the living room.
"From the attic. Temporary furnishings. They are, as you can see, rather old."
I gave him a look. "It's antique, which you know very well, and after the drunken confession about your office, you can no longer play that card."
"Card?"
"The one that says you have no interest in such frivolities and whims as antique furniture. Did the elders bring all this...?" I turned to him. "No, it wasn't the elders, was it?"
"If you're suggesting I carried dusty furniture...Well, not much of it. The elders facilitated the hiring of locals." He cleared his throat. "I believe the property is an excellent investment opportunity. The elders owe you, and you ought to take advantage of that in a rising housing market. I am not, however, advising you to buy it immediately. The furniture and the security is to allow you to move in temporarily, as the elders suggested." He looked around. "I believe TC would appreciate the extra space."
I sputtered a laugh. "TC? You're really stretching for justifications with that one." I moved into the front parlor and sat on the sofa, which was remarkably comfortable for a boxy davenport. "I'm surprised you're encouraging me to move in."
"Because the house triggers visions? Not significantly more than other locations, and I have come to accept that the elders may be correct--that it could be helpful for you to work through the visions rather than avoid them. However, I would ask that you do not stay alone until we're certain it's safe. I can spend the night--there's a second bed. Or Ricky or Rose, once I have properly educated them on how to deal with your fevers."
"You've worked it all out."
He walked to the window and looked across the yard. "Last night, we talked about frivolities. I don't believe I'm the only one who avoids them. You wouldn't even drive the Maserati until your other vehicle was disabled."
"By persons unknown."
"The point, Olivia, is that all practical justifications aside, you want this house."
When I said nothing, he looked over and after a moment said, "You want it, yet you will not accept it." Before I could respond, he said, "Is it Ricky?"
"What?"
He walked to the corner of the Oriental carpet and bent to straighten it. "You have been together for months. I understand that, after a certain amount of time, it becomes impractical to continue moving from apartment to apartment, and cohabitation is a natural progression. Clearly, Ricky would not be comfortable living in Cainsville, nor would I advise it. His apartment is hardly suitable for two, and he is graduating this term and must give it up. If you had plans, then, to find a more permanent residence..."
"Move in together? No. That's not happening."
He glanced over. "Is there a problem?"
"No. We just don't plan to move in together. That would add pressure, and it's just...It's not what either of us wants. We take it as it comes and take it for what it is."
He frowned slightly, as if he didn't understand, and I suppose a lot of people wouldn't. If you're in love, you should want to live together and begin that trek toward a wedding and babies. I'd been on that road before, and I was happy to step off it and just enjoy what I had, while I had it.
"So the house is simply...too much?" he said finally.
"I'm worried about the message it sends to the elders, and I'm worried about getting too comfortable."
"That making Cainsville your home would influence your ultimate decision."
I nodded. "Otherwise, I'd take it in a heartbeat."
"Let's talk about that, then."
GIFT
As they walked up the stairs, Gabriel struggled to prepare his defense. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem. Even in a prison visiting room with his client in tears, Gabriel could pretend to listen while mentally composing his opening arguments. Now, though, he was distracted. By two things.
First, he had not, evidently, committed a grievous error in preparing the house for Olivia. He knew a comment on that would be forthcoming, once she'd settled distractions in her own mind, but it did not seem it would be negative. His goal was to show Olivia that he could be what she needed in a partner. In knowing that she wanted this house, he'd proven he understood her. In readying it for her, he'd proven--he hoped--that he could be considerate and anticipate her needs.
Second, the matter of Ricky. He hadn't considered that Ricky and Olivia might be moving toward cohabitation until she'd hesitated at the thought of moving in here. They'd been together for months. They spent most nights at one apartment or the other. Cohabitation was the next logical step. Followed by...
He tried not to consider the "followed by" part. He'd spent the last few months trying not to consider it. Yet Olivia had no intention of moving in with Ricky, much less anything else.
That gave him hope.
So why was his stomach tightening and twisting with every step up those stairs? Because hope was a dangerous thing. It said the failure would be his own fault alone.
He should be fine with that. That's how he lived his life: control all factors and thereby accept the blame for failure. But here? Yes, here, if he failed, he wanted to be able to say he'd had no chance of success--
"Bedroom?" Olivia asked, pulling him from his thoughts. They were at the top of the stairs, six closed doors surrounding them--four bedrooms, a bath, and the attic. "I'm guessing not that one?" She pointed at the rear corner room, with the triskelion.
"Definitely not."
"I wouldn't want to trigger visions stumbling to the bathroom at night."
He noticed she didn't add if I do move in.
He motioned to the front right door. "That appears to be the master bedroom."
She passed him, threw open the door, and said, "Oh my God," and ran inside, the door swinging behind her. By the time he opened it, she was in the middle of the room.
"The tower," she said. "Obviously, I knew there was a half tower...but wow
."
There was indeed a half tower, extending up from the bay windows in the living room. In the master bedroom it formed a cupola, a semicircle of cushioned window seats with windows that reached to the ceiling, decorated with stained glass along the top.
"Reading seats," she said. "A table for my tea. Even pillows."
She scooped one up and surreptitiously sniffed it, as if checking for mildew.
"They're new," he said.
"The elders bought me pillows?"
He started to say yes, they must have. Because that was the safe answer. He was not a man who bought pillows. He was not a man who noticed that someone liked pillows. But if he was trying to show her a better side of himself, it did not behoove him to pretend the elders had bought Olivia pillows. Still, it was with no small amount of trepidation that he said, "I picked them up in the city earlier today."
"So you weren't working all morning?"
"No."
"They're perfect." She turned toward the huge sleigh bed, the wood gleaming.
"You'll want to replace the mattresses," he said. "But that set will do for now with new bedding."
"Which you also bought," she said, walking over and checking through the pile, still in the plastic. "Your taste is a whole lot better than mine."
"My budget is a whole lot higher than yours. Temporarily."
She looked around the room, the fading sun suffusing it with a warm glow. "Wow. Just wow. I'm going to keep saying that. In case you're wondering about the thank-you part, I'm waiting until after the tour, or I'm just going to keep saying that, too, and making you very uncomfortable."
Which was not untrue. His thanks came from her expression and the glow in her eyes.
"There are bookshelves in the attic," he said, "but I thought you might prefer them in whichever bedroom you choose as an office. I'd suggest the one with the triskelion. It has the best light."
She popped back into the hall and waved at the other front room. "That's your room, then?"
"The spare bedroom," he corrected.
"The only person who'd sleep in it is you. Unless I kick Ricky out of bed."
She laughed at that, suggesting the number of times that had happened--or was likely to happen--was zero. Regrettably.
Olivia zipped into the spare room. Gabriel followed, more slowly this time. He had considered taking another, perhaps the small, dark one beside it. The second front bedroom, while it lacked the half tower, was still big and airy, with oversized windows and stained glass. It seemed, yes, frivolous to put a bed in there.