Absolutely, Positively

to say that a client is about to go on a journey since nearly everyone travels at one time or another.”

    Evangeline's smile twisted wryly. “Your friend has natural talent, Harry.”

    “What can I say?” Harry crossed the tent with the chair in one hand. “She's smart. A sucker for a sales pitch, maybe, but basically smart.”

    “Such flattery will get you nowhere.” Molly turned back to Evangeline. “I want to know how a fortune-teller or psychic goes beyond the obvious clues. How do you personalize a fortune?”

    “She's also got a streak of curiosity a mile wide.” Harry dropped the folding chair lightly down next to the table, opened it, reversed it, and straddled it. He rested his arms along the back of the chair. “I'm told it runs in her family.”

    “Interesting,” Evangeline murmured. “Well, my dear, I'm afraid I can't satisfy your curiosity in the matter of telling fortunes. What can I say? There are no secrets. It's a gift.”

    “Are you talking about the Trevelyan Second Sight?” Molly asked.

    “No,” Harry said coldly. “She isn't. Because there is no such thing.”

    Evangeline cocked a disapproving brow. “You should have a bit more respect for the Sight, Harry. After all, you've got more of it than anyone else in the family.”

    “The hell I do,” Harry said.

    Molly studied Evangeline intently. “If you won't tell me the tricks of the fortune-telling trade, tell me about the Trevelyan Second Sight.”

    “Damn,” Harry muttered.

    “It runs in the family,” Evangeline said smoothly. “Harry won't admit he's got a full measure of it. He used to spend some of his summers with us, and I can tell you that I've seen flashes of it in him since he was about twelve. And of course there are the reflexes. He can't deny he got those, too. A genuine throwback to the first Harry Trevelyan.”

    “Harry told me that his ancestor lived in the early eighteen hundreds,” Molly said.

    “That's right.” Evangeline shuffled the cards with a thoughtful air. “He was sort of an early private investigator. He used to solve crimes and find missing people.”

    “Did he claim to have psychic powers?” Molly asked.

    “No,” Evangeline admitted. “He apparently failed to understand his own talent. He wanted to deny it for some reason. But family legend records that he had the Sight. He also had excellent reflexes. We know that because there are some fascinating stories of how he saved his own life and the lives of others when he was confronted by some violent people in the course of his work.”

    “Fiction,” Harry said. “Pure fiction.”

    Molly ignored him. “Did anyone else in the family become a private investigator?”

    “No,” Evangeline said. “No money in it. The Trevelyans took their psychic talents to the stage, instead. Mind readers, daredevils, knife throwers. That kind of thing. Every Trevelyan since the first Harry has wanted to believe that he had a touch of the Sight. Some did. Some didn't. The talent tends to skip around a lot.”

    Molly gave Harry an appraising look. “This Harry does have good reflexes.”

    “And here I thought you admired me for my brain,” Harry said.

    Evangeline reshuffled the cards. “In the Trevelyans, the reflexes have always been linked with the gift. The faster the hands, the keener the Second Sight, Granny Gwen always said.” She scowled at Harry. “And you have more speed than anyone else in the family, Harry. It broke Granny Gwen's heart when you refused to follow in the Trevelyan tradition.”

    “In case you haven't guessed,” Harry said to Molly, “my sainted great-grandmother, God rest her soul, had a real talent for laying guilt trips on people who didn't do what she wanted them to do. She was mightily irritated when I decided to go after a Ph.D. Granny Gwen wanted me to make a career out of throwing knives or racing cars or jumping off tall towers into little pools of water.”

    Evangeline gave him a reproving frown. “You're not being fair to your great-grandmother, Harry. It wasn't the fact that you wanted an education that angered and hurt her. It was your refusal to acknowledge the gift of the Sight. She was convinced that you were the first Trevelyan to be born with a complete dose of it since Harry the First.”

    “Sounds a bit like the Abberwick family talent for invention,” Molly mused. “It skips around, too. My sister got it. I didn't.”

    Harry gave her an odd look. “I'm not so sure