“Listen,” Verna said. “If I spoke out of turn, forgive me. Like I said, people talk too damn much, and I’m one of them. I care about you, and I want to see you happy.” She gave her a brusque hug and then said, “Here’s the important question—what are you going to wear on your date?”
Chapter Four
Cassie placed the bear on the kitchen counter.
Her mother stood at the stove frying chicken. “What’s that?”
Verna gave me a cookie jar, she wrote.
Her mother glanced at the message and harrumphed. “That’s one way of getting rid of junk she can’t sell.”
She just got it. If you don’t like it, I’ll keep it in my room. She left out what she’d seen in her mind when she’d laid eyes on the cookie jar, having learned long ago mentioning a vision triggered her mother’s protective instincts. Out of self-preservation, she’d lied, telling her the hallucinations had ceased. She felt guilty, but it did make life easier.
Dinner smells good. What can I do to help?
Her mother motioned to the pot of boiling potatoes. “They’ll be done in five minutes, and you can mash them.”
Cassie nodded. Be right back. She grabbed the cookie jar and took it to her room, making space on her dresser. The bear’s nose and one ear were chipped, its smile goofy. She had to admit it was kind of ugly. Still, she liked it, and now that she had a physical manifestation of her vision, maybe another one would come to her. None of her visions were the same, but she couldn’t shake the hunch they were related in some way. Each one revealed another piece to the puzzle—only she didn’t have enough pieces yet to figure out the picture.
However, nothing compared to what she’d seen through the mind link with Psy. Literally, he had shown her a whole new world, but the best part had been the ability to communicate with another person on an intimate level.
Cassie hugged herself. Verna had been right about one thing. He did look human, and while his eyes were unique, they weren’t weird, they were soulful. With his thick, near-black hair and remarkable eyes, he was beautiful yet masculine, with a trim, wiry physique. She guessed he fell shy of six feet, and since she was almost five foot six, he stood at the perfect kissing height. His full, soft lips and white-white teeth hadn’t escaped her notice, either.
What if she’d forgotten how to kiss? Years had passed since she’d made out with her high school boyfriend. What if she fumbled? Bumped his nose?
Talk about jumping ahead! Maybe Psy didn’t want to kiss her. Maybe his people didn’t kiss at all. They hadn’t gone on a date yet.
First things first. Like dinner. She washed her hands in the hall bath and returned to the kitchen. Her mother stirred the gravy from the chicken drippings.
Poking the potatoes with a fork revealed they were done. After mashing them a little by hand, she dumped the potatoes into the stand mixer, added butter, milk heated in the microwave, and some salt, and, while they whipped, she set the table.
As usual, they didn’t converse while they fixed dinner because it would have necessitated stopping work to write. The lack of communication hadn’t bothered her before, but the brief mental contact with Psy had shown her what she was missing. People talked as they worked, dined, drove, watched TV. They probably talked during sex. Not that she’d know. She was pretty sure she was the only mute twenty-three-year-old virgin in the entire state of Idaho. Probably the whole USA. Maybe the world.
She gave a snort of dismayed laughter.
“Something wrong?” Rosalie glanced over. Her eyes were cyan today. A little bright but close enough to a normal shade of blue. Badly nearsighted, her mother swapped out different-colored contact lenses. On any given day, her eyes could be emerald, turquoise, violet, or even amber.
Cassie shook her head.
They sat down at the kitchen table to eat. The two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow had little space to spare, so her mother had converted their dining room into an office.
Cassie removed her notebook from around her neck and flipped to a blank page. How was work? she asked and took a bite of mashed potatoes.
“I passed my three-month probationary period, so I got a 10 percent raise today,” her mother said matter-of-factly.
That’s good!
Rosalie shrugged. “Better than nothing.” She worked as an office manager and receptionist for a mom-and-pop plumbing supply company. Because of the dual role, it paid more than most of her previous jobs. Her mother tended to jump around a lot and preferred small businesses over big companies. “I refuse to be a cog in a corporate wheel,” she’d sniff.
Secretly Cassie believed if being a single cog in a large corporation paid more than being the whole wheel at a small company, it might be worth being a cog. However, the plumbing supply place paid decently and, with Cassie also contributing to the household coffers, their tight financial situation had eased. For all that she’d discouraged Cassie working, her mother hadn’t turned down the extra money.
“Anything exciting happen at the antique shop today?” Rosalie asked. “Besides getting a free cookie jar?”
The moment of truth. She swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. I met somebody.
“Who?”
A man.
“A man? Who?”
His name is Psy. He asked me out. We have a date.
Rosalie blinked as she read. Then she squealed. “You have a date? A date!” Her face split with a wide grin, and she leaped up and squeezed Cassie in an exuberant hug. “Honey, I’m so happy for you.”
No mother should get so excited over her adult daughter going on a date. This proves I need to get a life, Cassie thought.
“Is he local? Who is he? What does he do? How old is he?” Her mother flung out questions.
Fortunately, she hadn’t asked, “Is he human?” because Cassie planned to keep that vital statistic to herself—well, herself and Verna, who was more accepting of such things. Her mom would freak if she discovered Psy had come from outer space. She took a bite of chicken, buying time because she didn’t have answers to most of the questions.
“Come on, spill it. Tell me!” Her mother nudged her.
I met him when he came into the shop. He’s new to Argent, too.
“How old is he?” she repeated.
She’d guess early thirties, but who could tell? He was an alien. A few years older than me.
“What does he look like?”
Dark hair, brown eyes. Handsome. Tallish. Nice muscles. Smooth voice.
“Sounds like he ticks all the boxes.”
What stood out were his mesmerizing eyes, his sexy voice, and the mind link facilitating effortless conversation. And, of course, he’d shown her another planet. For someone who had seen very little of her country on her own planet, to catch a glimpse of another world was incredible.
“When can I meet him?”
While she chewed, she wrote. He’s picking me up after work on Thursday. A blob of ink from the felt pen spread on the paper as she considered how to phrase her request. Please—
“Act cool and don’t embarrass you?” Her mother patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be calm by then.”
Her lips twitched. Rosalie was taking it surprisingly well. Can I borrow the car tomorrow or Wednesday? Maybe drop you at work and pick you up at the end of the day?