Maribeth frowned at the tea leaves. She didn't want to tell the sweet young thing across the table from her what they said, but she couldn't lie about it and the client would be upset if she refused to say anything.
“I see a man,” she said.
The girl – she was at least twenty-five but had an undeniable air of girlishness – smiled. They always did, unless they wanted her to see a woman.
“He has dark hair and blue eyes.”
The girl leaned close, peering at the leaves herself. They undoubtedly looked like nothing but a mass of gunk to her, but she nodded anyway. “What's his name?”
“I don't know.” Maribeth moved the cup as if she needed to adjust the focus to see more clearly. She didn't, but the clients always liked a show. “But you will meet him very soon.”
Maribeth gave her a mysterious smile. “Very soon. Maybe even today.”
She felt a familiar twinge of guilt over not warning the child, but nothing would be gained from alarming the poor doomed thing. At least this way her last few hours might be happy ones.
After the client had paid and left, Maribeth got up with a sigh and flipped the off light in the window. She couldn't handle another reading today.