TAKEN FOR A RIDE by Kate Hoffmann
CHAPTER ONE
THE TINY BRASS BELL above the shop door jangled wildly as Sabina stumbled through, her iced latte clutched in one hand. She kicked the door shut, the click of the latch echoing in the silence. Outside, the temperature was already rising, the weatherman promising at least an eighty-degree day. Hot weather in Manhattan was always good for business, Sabina mused.
Her grandmother said that the spirit world felt closer when the air was thick with heat and humidity. Sabina believed that the stress of summer in the city brought more people into the shop for psychic relief, the same as it did around the holidays. Either way, more business was good business.
She wandered through the familiar interior of the shop, exotic scents mingling in the still air. The tourist guides had called Ruta’s “disarmingly peculiar” and “an odd little establishment” and “a relic of the Village’s colorful past.” For Sabina, it was more than that. It was home.
She’d taken her first steps on the thick Turkish rugs and she’d done her schoolwork on the round table with the crystal ball. Her friends used to play with the stuffed marmot that sat on a shelf above the ornate cash register and she’d learned to add and multiply with well-worn decks of tarot cards.
Sabina had never really thought of her grandmother as unusual, at least not when she was younger. Ruta was like so many other immigrants living in New York. It wasn’t until later that she learned how different her grandmother really was. Descended from Gypsy kings and queens, Sabina’s ancestors had once roamed eastern Europe in wagon caravans, peddling potions and amulets and even curses.
Ruta had come to America as a child over seventy years ago, escaping Hungary months after the war broke out. A stranger in a strange land, Ruta’s widowed mother had told fortunes in Times Square while Ruta sat by her side, learning her secrets.
And so it had been, the secrets of the Gypsies passed from Ruta to Sabina’s mother, Katja, to Sabina. Unfortunately, Sabina had never developed her own powers. She couldn’t see into the future, she couldn’t decipher a person’s life from the lines on their palm, and she’d never made a potion or a charm that worked. Still, that didn’t stop her from plying the only trade she knew.
Both her grandmother and mother had assured her that her gift may arrive late, but it would indeed come. In truth, Sabina knew she had no professional future in the fortune-telling business. She was lucky to have skated by for this long. When Ruta finally retired, the shop would pass to Sabina. And she’d already begun to make a few changes that reflected her own talents and interests.
She closed her eyes and imagined what her shop might look like. Instead of the dark, mysterious interior, she would throw open the heavy drapes and tear down the tapestries. Sabina’s shop would be bright, with glass shelves and warm wood cabinets. She’d sell lingerie, beautiful, sexy creations of her own designs. And she’d sell scented lotions and fine soaps, luxurious robes and pretty sleepwear. There would be candles and bath oils, anything to please the senses. Her customers wouldn’t need a psychic reading to feel good.
Sabina glanced over at the far corner of the shop. She had already convinced her grandmother to try an aromatherapy counter, and she’d recently ordered a new line of herbal candles. Ruta was stubborn and Sabina had to make her changes gradually.
“Bina, I’ve been looking for you.”
Sabina turned to watch her grandmother emerge from behind a bead curtain. As always, Ruta was dressed in her traditional Gypsy costume, a flowing skirt with an embroidered peasant blouse. Her wrists were adorned with gold bangles and a bead necklace hung from her neck. She’d twisted a colorful scarf through her long gray hair.
“Morning, Nana. Did you sleep well?” She circled the counter and pressed a kiss to Ruta’s cheek.
“No,” she said, a heavy Hungarian accent coloring every word. “I was up all night. Look what I have for you.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt and placed a photo on the counter in front of Sabina. “Mrs. Nussbaum’s nephew. She gave it to me last night at her reading. He is a doctor. A proctologist. And he is very handsome, don’t you think?”
Sabina groaned inwardly. “Nana, please. No more matchmaking. I can find men to meet on my own.”
“Then why don’t you do it, Bina? You have not had a boyfriend in many months. You spend every spare minute upstairs in your apartment, drawing your designs and sewing them up. I am starting to worry about you. Your whole life has become underwear. If you do not let someone else see your underwear, you will grow old a spinster.”
Sabina shuddered. That word was so awful. Spinster. It ranked right up there with troll and gargoyle. But she was willing to die a spinster before she let Ruta fix her up again. Her grandmother’s matchmaking efforts up to this point had been nothing short of disastrous. “I don’t need your help.”
“Maybe just a little bit?” She reached in her pocket again and withdrew a red string with a clay amulet dangling from it. “Here, put this on. It is a love charm.”
“Nana, this won’t work.”
“You will never know unless you try it,” Ruta said. “I have been open-minded about your smelly oils and silly candles, so you could do the same about my charms. Your destiny is out there waiting for you if you would just open your eyes to it.” She brushed Sabina’s hands away as she lowered the charm over her head. “There,” she murmured, fussing with a series of knots in the string. “You have made your grandmother very happy now. Tonight, I will sleep well.”
Sabina fingered the amulet. “This is silly. How could this possibly help me find a man?”
“Give it a chance to work, Bina.” Ruta sighed softly. “I only want what is best for you. Now that your mama and papa are living in that horrid place, we must stick together, yes?”
Sabina laughed softly as her grandmother walked back through the bead curtain. She’d been to Branson, Missouri, and it wasn’t all that bad. Between the tourists and the retirees, her mother’s new shop had more customers than Katja could handle.
Sabina plucked at the charm, holding it up to examine it. “Sometimes it’s just better to pacify her than to argue,” she murmured to herself.
“I heard that!” Ruta shouted. She reappeared at the bead curtain, poking her head through to give Sabina a disapproving look. “If you spent half the time talking to eligible men as you spend talking to yourself, you would be in the midst of a grand romance now.”
What was she supposed to do? Everyone else in her family spent their time communicating with the spirit world. And since she didn’t possess the power, Sabina had always chosen to discuss her problems with herself. “I’m going to buy some bagels.” She tucked the amulet beneath her blouse, then grabbed her iced latte. “I plan to meet at least six or seven men along the way. In fact, by the time I get back, I’ll be married and pregnant.”
“It is good to think positively,” her grandmother replied. “But no talking to yourself. The men will think you are crazy.”
Sabina walked out the front door and headed toward the corner. Crazy? Sabina was the only normal person in her family. She glanced down at the charm swinging from her neck. Well, almost normal. She’d agreed to wear the amulet, hadn’t she? Sabina wondered just what was mixed with the clay. Her grandmother had shelves and drawers and boxes full of strange ingredients-dried beetles and cats’ whiskers and boars’ teeth.
Sabina dodged an old woman walking her Pekingese, her attention still focused on the amulet. She didn’t see the man approaching until she ran squarely into his chest. Her iced latte exploded in front of her. Sabina jumped back, but her legs tangled in the leash of the Pekingese and she fell forward again, the drink splashing into the man’s face. He cursed as they both tumbled to the sidewalk in a flurry of arms and legs.