Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie by Marianne Stillings Read Free Book Online Page B

arrived.
    She approached the table, and Max rose from his seat. He was a gentleman, she’d give him that. He was freshly shaved, and wore a dark blue suit and dark tie. He looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of the Totally Hot Guys Way Out Of Your League Gazette , and he knew it, the bastard.
    He winked at her, and his mouth kicked up at one end in a flirty smile. Wowee-zowee, what a hunk.
    Her heart fluttered. She ignored it. All this fluttering heart nonsense was probably taking years off her life.
    “Evie Randall,” he said, “this is Madame Grovda, the world-renowned Russian psychic, and Dabney James, the poet.”
    James stood and extended his hand, but before she could take it, Madame Grovda bolted from her seat. Practically trotting around the end of the table, she flung her arms ab out Evie and gave her a breath- stealing hug.
    “ Privet , dahlink! I, Madame Ernestina Grovda, have arrived. I am saving the day!” Her voice was husky, her accent pronounced. Holding Evie at an arm’s length, she gave her the once-over and said, “You are pretty one, yes?”
    “ Spasiba , madame,” Evie managed without too much trouble. She’d noticed that, over the course of the afternoon, the swelling on her tongue had reduced considerably, allowing her to speak normally again. The bruises on her backside, however, were still weeks away from healing.
    “What is this? Govorite li vy po Russki ? ”
    Evie blushed and shook her head. “ Nyet . Not really. I learned a few words, in your honor. I am a schoolteacher, and I thought it would be nice—”
    “Da! The teacher of children. This is good!” Madame Grovda seemed thrilled enough by that to pull Evie to her bosom again and practically hug the life out of her. Pain shot through her body.
    Evie realized she must have reacted, because she suddenly felt Max’s presence beside her, felt his hands gently prying her out of the psychic’s abundant arms.
    “Madame,” he said, wedging himself between Evie and the woman. “Ms. Randall is suffering injuries from a fall two days ago. She’s still healing.”
    Evie felt her eyes mist. Doing her best to smile at the psychic, she said, “It’s okay, madame. I’m fine, really.”
    Madame Grovda was a woman well past her middle years, stout o f build, strong of limb, who ap peared not so much clothed as upholstered. Everything about her was large—from her shock of white hair, to the dinner-plate earrings swinging heavily from her lobes, to her necklace of ping-pong-ball- sized red beads.
    Her round, friendly face was flushed, her broad forehead dotted with perspiration. Whiskey-brown eyes glittering with enthusiasm were small and deeply set, and her generous mouth had been painted a shade of orange Evie was sure didn’t exist in nature.
    “I regret, my dear,” she crooned, cupping Evie’s cheek in her palm.
    Abruptly, she spread her arms wide, like a 747 preparing for takeoff. Her eyes drifted closed and she set her fingertips to her temples. Humming and rocking back and forth on her heels, she moaned, “Your hand, child. Give to me your hand.”
    Evie glanced at Max, then hesitantly extended her right hand. Madame grasped it as though it were the lifeline that would save her from going down for the third time. Her eyes pinched tightly closed, her head nodding, she resembled a malfunctioning bobble-head toy.
    “Yes, yes. Clearly, I see,” she announced dramatically, her voice pitched high and breathy, like the shriek of a terrified chipmunk. “Soon, you will undertake trip of heart. Ah, and with such beautiful man.”
    She paused a moment to smile knowingly. Then her lips curved down and her voice deepened. “But trip holds many dangers. This man will protect you, but you should give him a key to secret which you hold buried deeply in your heart, milaya moya.”
    Evie’s aforementioned heart skidded and hopped for several beats and nearly went into arrest. Every body had secrets. That was a pretty safe