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"Do you really want to know?"
"Well, when you say it like that ... I'm not sure." Kane gave her a worried look.
"That's fair. It did sound a bit daunting, didn't it?" Iris laughed. "I was actually working with the police for much of the day as they are trying to track down my ex-boyfriend and see if he has stolen from anyone else on top of having stolen from me."
"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this. Is there anything I can help with?" Kane asked, his handsome face creased with worry. "Do they have any leads?"
"No, no leads. Frankly, on the scale of major crimes that the Boston Police force must deal with, well, this one is not as serious. However, it's serious to me." Iris shrugged and took a cube of cheese to nibble on. Her eyes tracked back out to where the water crashed against the cliff walls, and she took strength from the cove.
"Well, of course it's serious to you. He stole your money." Kane's hands closed in a fist as though he would punch Warren if he could.
"It's more than that. It's not just the money." Iris looked back at Kane and steadied herself before blurting out her truth. "He's also destroyed my business and ruined my reputation. You see, I'm a psychic medium and…a quite famous one at that. Warren sold a pack of lies to a tabloid, which has now gotten picked up by a ton of other magazines, proclaiming that I'm a fraud. Which isn't true, of course. But when you spend a lifetime battling skeptics, it doesn't take much to destroy the reputation you've built for yourself. Now I'm alone, standing in the mess of what he's left behind. All my clients have canceled, and my reputation is in ruins. And so I guess the money he stole from me doesn't seem as important as what he's actually done to my life." Iris watched Kane carefully, wondering how he would take the news.
"Wow. Okay, so there's a lot to unravel here. First of all, can I just say how cool is that?" Kane's eyes lit with excitement, and Iris tilted her head at him.
"You think it's cool that my ex-boyfriend ruined my business and my reputation?" Iris shook her head as she clucked her tongue sadly. "You really are a twisted man, aren't you?"
"No! I mean, I won't argue that I'm twisted. I just meant that being a psychic sounds really fascinating, and I'm probably going to ask you a billion questions about that after we figure out how to find and murder Warren." At that, Iris felt a laugh bubbling up inside her. Perhaps sharing her truth wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Here we are, back to the murder again. Maybe Cait is right to want to keep an eye on us," Iris teased.
"But in all seriousness, I'm really sorry for you, Iris. Not only do you have to deal with someone violating your trust but they've also hurt your livelihood. It makes total sense to me why a trustworthy reputation in your field would matter. It must have taken you years to build up your business. I mean…I guess I also understand why there are skeptics. Unfortunately, it does seem to be an area that grifters are drawn to."
"It's true, unfortunately. Because most of my clients…when they come to me? They're often at a particularly vulnerable point in their life. Which means they may not be thinking clearly. Or they're looking for hope and answers. A lot of frauds out there profit on giving people hope or, you know, leading them down a path of having to arrange for more appointments before they're healed or have them pay to remove a supposed curse…that kind of thing," Iris said with an angry shake of her head. "It's really frustrating to me because I want my clients to succeed unless of course I sense that they're horrible people, and then I don't, but that's usually few and far between. Otherwise, I truly want the best for the people who come to me, and I want to be able to guide and help them in any way that I can. Now, well, I don't know if I'll ever be able to work in this industry again." Iris's breath caught as she looked back out at the water.
The truth of it was, Iris loved what she did for a living. She didn't want to have to stop doing it. But right now? She didn't know how to see her way out of the mess Warren had created for her. It hurt, knowing that she might not be able to move forward in the way she wanted.
"Well, I can't say I know a lot about your industry. However, I do know a lot about something else," Kane said, surprising her by reaching across the picnic table and taking one of her hands. Once again, that jolt of electricity raced up her palm, and she closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the warmth of his touch.
“What’s that?” Iris asked, keeping her tone light.
“I’m really good at research, and I’m really good at solving other people’s problems.” Kane laughed. “A part of being a writer is throwing my characters into a bunch of problems and then figuring out how to get them out of it. So if you’ll allow me, I’d like to be able to help you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping yourself?” Iris asked, arching a brow at Kane. “If I recall, you are also going through an equally devastating time, aren’t you?”
“Well, maybe we can help each other, then,” Kane amended. He smiled at her, hope in his eyes, and Iris found that she didn't have it in her to say no to him. In fact, she found that she very much wanted to say yes to him in more ways than one. When that thought entered her mind, she quickly disengaged her hand from his, not wanting to lead the conversation in the wrong direction. She would take his offer as friendship and nothing more.
“Okay, Kane. It looks like we've become each other's projects, haven't we?” Iris said and then jumped when a bark startled her. Turning, she looked over her shoulder as a dog raced across the field to them, her ears streaming behind her in the wind.
"See?" Kane asked, excitement in his voice. "A dog appeared when we decided to help each other. There is no stronger blessing."
A woman followed the dog, her feet shoved into Wellies, and a loose sweater pulled over her curvy frame. Strawberry-blond hair tumbled down her back, and she regarded them with warm whiskey-brown eyes.
"Rosie told me people were down here, but I didn't realize who it was." At her words, Iris immediately stiffened. This was it. The moment that she had been nervous about. She had finally been recognized from all of the magazine articles that had been written about her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and steadied herself before pasting a smile on her face.
"And who do you think is down here?" Iris found herself asking with just a note of bitchiness in her voice.
"Well, you're kin of sort to me." At her words, shock filled Iris, but there was no time to process, as the sky took that moment to open up and drop sheets of rain on their heads.
Chapter 10
“Thanks,” Kane said, accepting the towel that Gracie, the woman who had appeared at their picnic table, offered him. They stood just inside the front door of the stone cottage they’d passed on their way to the cove, stamping their feet and patting the rain from their faces.
For a moment, when Gracie had said she knew who they were, he’d worried that she was about to spill his author’s name to Iris. Not that it should matter all that much. She’d just told him she was a psychic, hadn’t she? Didn’t that mean she probably already knew all his secrets? Or was that mind-reading? Or could they do both? Now, his brain scrambled as he tried to recalibrate his thoughts about the woman he’d become somewhat entranced with.
Interesting choice of words, Kane lectured himself, as he took in the long line of shelves that hugged one wall of the cottage, cluttered with hundreds of tiny bottles with neat labels. A large wooden table dominated the space, and it looked to serve as both a workspace and a place for meals based on the line of small bottles and jars that stood empty next to a bowl that Gracie picked up. She sniffed it and then reaching for a small jar, added a dash of herbs and stirred the mixture. Kane couldn’t be sure if it was food or creams but based on the scent of roses wafting his way, he figured she must be making some sort of facial cream.
The cottage was cozy in the way of spaces that had long been lived in, and every corner was used economically. Kane turned to see a small sitting area jutting off to the right, which held a carved wooden rocking chair, a small fireplace, and another oversized armchair. A large dog bed sat on the floor next to the fire, and Rosie, the dog, padded over and curled up with a contented sigh. A small kitchenette, with a sink located directly beneath a wide window looking out to the sea and framed by cheerful red poppy curtains, was situated to his left. Kane felt instantly at home, for he’d grown up running in and out of many similar cottages as these, and he wondered if Gracie had grown up here.
