Page 40 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“Balance,” Delaney says.

“More than balance,” I tell her. “Integration. Knowing how much can move from one part of your life into another without draining either one.”

Chloe looks over the image. “That sounds easier on a card.”

“Most worthwhile things do.”

I place Temperance beside the Queen of Pentacles. “You shouldn’t wait until the venue becomes too demanding to decide what it may ask of you. Choose the limits while you still feel abundant.”

“What kind of limits?”

“How many weddings you accept. Which months remain quiet. Which areas of the property belong only to you and Jack. Days when the venue becomes your home again and no one else is permitted to need anything from it.”

“Jack wants us to cap the number of bookings,” she says. “And he refuses to include our cabin in any of the guest packages.”

“Then it sounds as though Jack already understands Temperance.”

Chloe smiles. “He is going to enjoy hearing you say that.”

“You aren’t being told to make your dream smaller,” I say. “You’re being reminded to leave enough room inside it for the two people who created it. Abundance without boundaries eventually becomes another kind of scarcity.”

Chloe’s fingers settle over the Four of Wands. “Can the property remain both?”

“Both what?”

“Our business and our home.”

I look from the card representing their foundation to Temperance and the two vessels that remain full by giving and receiving in equal measure.

“Yes,” I say. “But only if you protect the parts that money isn’t allowed to purchase.”

Delaney makes a quiet sound of agreement.

I return the cards to the deck. “Your reading is complete.”

Chloe stands, then leans across the table and hugs me before I expect it. Her energy is warm and rooted, threaded with the certainty of a woman who fought hard for the life she now occupies.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome.”

She walks toward the front display while I prepare for Delaney’s appointment. I replace the table covering, sanitize my hands, and close the privacy screens around the massage area.

Delaney follows me inside.

“I should warn you,” she says. “If this works too well, Mason may become jealous.”

“Of me?”

“Of anyone capable of putting a hand on me without becoming distracted.”

“I’m a licensed professional.”

“So is he in several things. None of them help.”

Her affection for him exists beneath every teasing word.

I complete the intake and learn that Delaney has no significant injuries or medical concerns. The tightness sits primarily at the base of her neck and between her shoulder blades, brought on by long hours reviewing photographs and campaign material.