“What? Your girlfriend here didn’t tell you? She’s doing you and us a disservice. We are the best psychic duo on the East Coast. Ah!” She pointed one long-nailed finger at me. “You are intrigued. I can always tell.” I hated that she was right.

“That doesn’t make you psychic, Desmina,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “It just means you’re not blind.”

Clara’s face had resumed its normal expression, and she skipped over to the desk, linked her arm with Des’s—they had to be related, but I couldn’t puzzle out how. Mother and daughter? Cousins? With her other arm she wriggled a business card out of the tiny front pocket of her jean shorts. She held it out to me. Clara Voyant, it said. Seer and Fortune Teller.

“Clara’s the psychic, really. I have a different set of talents.”

Emily coughed. “I’ll bet.”

Clara was silent, still staring at me. Nervous, I reached for a canister of pens, straightened them just to have something to do with my hands.

“So, Miss Lily, as a gesture of friendship, what do you say you give us a pass to the spa for the afternoon and in exchange, we’ll read your palm.”

“I’ll do it,” Clara said. She pulled on my wrist and turned my hand over, pinning it to the top of the desk.

“This is insane,” Emily said. “You two don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’m calling security. We are a private business, and we don’t need to serve you.”

Clara didn’t look up but stroked my skin with her fingertips so softly that it tickled and I flinched. Both women giggled.

“Ah,” she said, her catlike eyes scrunched in concentration. She pet my palm as though it were wounded. “You are recovering from a broken heart.” I felt my face go hot. I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms behind my back.

“Well, aren’t we all?” Emily said. “Especially around here.” She pointed out the glass to the hallway, where an old man shuffled toward the swimming pool. “He’s heartbroken. And her, too.” She pointed at a woman on a jazzy scooter speeding in the direction of the buffet. “And her, too. I’m sure of it,” she said, about the housekeeper pushing a cart of toilet paper in the direction of the restrooms. “And I am, too, for that matter. Heartbreak is the human condition in this town. Hell, on Earth. I don’t need a psychic to tell me that. Come back when you’ve got something better.”