Page 87 of Diagnosis Attraction

They arrived in the Crescent City the next day and found a charming bed and breakfast in the French Quarter, where Elizabeth would have loved to stay if they’d been here on vacation. But she was too restless to fully enjoy their antique-filled suite or the old-fashioned claw-foot tub in the bathroom.

Matt looked at her with concern. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”

“You know we had to. And I want to walk around and get a feel for the city.”

They headed for Jackson Square, where they watched the street performers and wandered around the stands where artistswere offering to do quick sketches of tourists, and women had set up card tables where they were selling tarot card and palm readings.

“Do you remember it?” Matt asked.

“Yes. I guess it hasn’t changed much in twenty-five years. But I want to see something else.”

“Something you remember?”

“No.” Elizabeth walked rapidly along one side of the square, then took a side street leading to Toulouse Street.

“If you haven’t been here before, you seem to know where you’re going,” Matt commented.

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“You’re just … wandering?”

She knew he didn’t think that was true. Perhaps she didn’t either. She scanned the shops along Toulouse and stopped at an inviting little storefront that offered tarot-card readings by a woman named Rachel Harper.

“You walked past the readers in the square,” Matt said. “Why are you stopping here?”

“This woman interests me.”

“Why? Do you know her?”

“No.”

“Then what is it about her? Is she more insightful because she has her own shop?”

“She made enough money to buy it.”

“Or maybe a rich husband set her up.”

Elizabeth snorted and peered at the closed sign in the door. “I wonder when she’s coming back.”

“We can try again later,” Matt said. “If you think it’s important.”

“It could be. I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “Or maybe it’s nothing.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “It’s weird. When I first met you, I didn’t remember anything. Now I do, andI’m also …” she flapped her arm. “I don’t know what to call it. Having insights?”

“Maybe part of your mental abilities.” He examined the door and window of the shop. “You’d think she’d let customers know how to get in touch with her. But there doesn’t seem to be anything here.”

They kept walking through the French Quarter, both on edgebut still able to take in the colorful buildings, art galleries, antique shops, and tropical flowers that were so different from Baltimore.

When Elizabeth stopped in front of a restaurant, Matt gave her an inquiring look.”

“You want to eat here?”

“Not necessarily. But I’m getting the same feeling I did from Rachel Harper’s shop.”

She stood on the sidewalk for a minute, then walked on. “Or maybe I’m making stuff up because I want something significant to happen.”

“Maybe it’s not going to happen in the city.”

At breakfast the following day, as they enjoyed beignets, strong Louisiana coffee, and omelets with andouille sausage, Elizabeth said, “I’d like to go back and see if Rachel Harper is there.”

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