“Why? I put on deodorant!”
“I don’t care! Now, off you go!”
“Jeez,” Finn grumbled, but he headed for the bathroom, all the same.
“Hi, Mom,” I started again. “Everything is going good, so far.”
I didn’t want to tell her about the condition of the house. I just… didn’t have the energy. Instead, I sat down at the desk in the far end of the crowded room and pulled out a small notepad from one of the drawers.
“… just can’t wait to see pictures and we want to know all about the town,” Mom continued. I was only half-paying attention to the conversation. Most of my concentration was on the list of to-do items I was currently working on.
“I’ve been telling you to open a store for how long now?” she asked.
“Ten years,” I answered, trying to restrain a gusty sigh.
“And you never listen to your mother. Didn’t I tell you this would be a great idea? Reggie, tell your daughter she’s going to do great!”
On the other end of the line, I could make out a soft grunt that was dad-speak for ‘the game’s on—leave me in peace, woman.’
“Dad thinks it’s a really great idea, sweetie,” Mom confirmed. “Oh! And that gout potion I whipped up has your father back on his feet again! Adding the extra ginger root to GG’s recipe was exactly what it needed. Good thing I still have the knack!”
GG was short for ‘Great-Grandma’ and GG was my mom’s mother, who was still alive and sly as an old fox.
But, back to Dad… I was fairly sure losing twenty pounds by laying off beer and pizza had more to do with his recovery than GG’s home remedies. But hey, I needed the pep talk and it was nice to know Mom believed in me. At least someone did.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And once you’re all settled in, you can start thinking about finding the right man?”
“Mom…”
“Eventually you’re going to want a partner, Holly. You’re still young… ish and you don’t want what happened with Jeremy to stop you from dating again.”
“I just need some time, Mom.”
“Have you used that Match.com subscription I got you for your birthday?”
No, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t in any hurry to start now. “Not yet.”
“Well, don’t forget. Your future husband could be on it, just waiting for you.”
Yeah. Right.
“I won’t forget.”
Dating was a sensitive subject for me, in general. And it always had been. I wasn’t sure if I’d been in love with Finn’s father. Not that it really mattered anyway, because as soon as he’d found out I was pregnant, he’d split like a worn-down inseam. I’d always grown up with the notion that it took two to parent so I’d shopped for father figures... and found Dylan the drunk, Charlie the cheap, Simon the serial philanderer, and Theodore the thief. And then there was Jeremy, the crowning glory.
After getting out of that debacle, I’d decided to stay out of the dating pool. But telling Mom as much would just upset her. Maybe I’d at least set up my profile—just to make her happy. Dating at forty-three wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to. Ahem… understatement of the century.
“I’ll look tonight,” I promised.
“Okay, love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“Say hi to Finn for us.”
“I will.”
She tried to squeeze in another piece of advice before the phone clicked. Whoops. I was too tired to call back and there was still a lot left to do. I needed to write a list of everything that needed fixing at the house, and I needed to make a list of the materials I’d need to construct the shelves for my store. As well as watch a YouTube video on how to make shelves. Sigh.
Not to mention that tomorrow was a really big day! Finn and I would be waking up early in order to meet the moving truck which was due to arrive in the morning.
Finn stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his middle. Then he reached inside his suitcase and pulled out his Christmas pajamas which were a size too small. He pulled them up his long, skinny legs and then jumped on his twin size bed, which was just beside mine. Then he clicked on the TV, and immediately started laughing at Spongebob Squarepants who trilled his intensely irritating laugh into the interior of the room.
“Gran’s got a point, Mom,” Finn said, from where he was nearly lost among the numerous pillows on his bed.
“Gran’s got what point?”
“That you can’t let your relationship with Jeremy leave a bad taste in your mouth. There are still good guys out there.”
“I have yet to meet them,” I grumbled.
“Well… now you have probability on your side.”
I smiled. I didn’t even know the word ‘probability’ was in his vocab. “Oh, and how’s that?”
Finn shrugged. “L.A. has a large pool of douchebags. Haven Hollow, not so much.”
“Language,” I snapped.
He shrugged again. “My point still stands.”
“Because small town means fewer jerks?”
“Yep,” he answered and then looked over at me. “I have a good feeling about this place.”
***
I rarely dream and when I do, it’s usually because I’ve decided I need to.
And tonight, I was hoping for prophetic dreams—something from the Universe to help guide me on my path. Something to tell me whether I was making a mistake with this house, whether I should put it up for sale and buy something more… easily managed.
Everyone has a third eye, but almost no one uses theirs. For regular folks, it normally takes drugs, religion, or near-death experiences to find a way to see through to the other side. Even my own family had lost the knack. GG was the only one who regularly peeked beyond the veil to the beyond. For the rest of us, there was Dreamtime Oil: Carnation, Sandalwood, Vanilla and a kick of good ol’ fashioned gypsy magic.
I found myself so completely stressed out by the prospect of the house, I needed the distraction of dreams. And Dreamtime Oil was a great prescription for creative and restful sleep. I’d come up with some of my best ideas while using the oil. All the same, you had to be careful about overdoing it—meaning, you couldn’t use it too often, because it was quite a strain on your subconscious mind. Once a month and you were good to go. GG had learned that the hard way…
I plugged in the diffuser just after bath time. Finn grumbled about the smell, but was almost immediately pacified by the offer to watch one more episode of Spongebob instead of having to go to sleep.
As for me, I expected to lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’d dragged us both into. But when my head hit the pillow and I inhaled the scent of the oil, my eyelids slammed down like heavy steel shutters.
And the dream began almost instantly.
Ordinarily, Dreamtime Oil took me to my happy places: the scenic meadow that lay a mile from GG’s sprawling country home in Washington State. Sometimes I’d end up sitting on the teakwood patio of a friend’s vacation home in Belize, inhaling briny air, watching the crystalline blue waves roll in the early morning sun.