Mind Over Matter

the beach and, ignoring her linen skirt, dropped down on the sand. “I don’t get to the beach often enough.” Kicking off her shoes, she slid stockinged feet in the sand so that her skirt hiked up to her thighs. David took a good long look before he settled beside her.
    “Neither do I,” he decided, wondering just how those legs—and the rest of her—might look in a bikini.
    “I guess I made quite a scene.”
    “I guess you did.” He pulled out her hamburger and handed it to her.
    “I hate to,” she said, and took a fierce bite. “I don’t have a reputation as an abrasive or argumentative agent, just a tough one. I only lose objectivity with Clarissa.”
    He screwed the paper cups into the sand. “Objectivity is shot to hell when we love somebody.”
    “She’s so good. I don’t just mean at what she does, but inside.” A.J. took the fries he offered and nibbled one. “Good people can get hurt so much easier than others, you know. And she’s so willing to give of herself. If she gave everything she wanted, she’d have nothing left.”
    “So you’re there to protect her.”
    “That’s right.” She turned, challenging.
    “I’m not arguing with you.” He held up a hand. “For some reason I’d like to understand.”
    With a little laugh she looked back out to sea. “You had to be there.”
    “Why don’t you tell me what it was like? Growing up.”
    She never discussed it with anyone. Then again, she never sat on a beach eating hamburgers with associates. Maybe it was a day for firsts. “She was a wonderful mother. Is. Clarissa’s so loving, so generous.”
    “Your father?”
    “He died when I was eight. He was a salesman, so he was away a lot. He was a good salesman,” she added with the ghost of a smile. “We were lucky there. There were savings and a little bit of stock. Problem was the bills didn’t get paid. Not that the money wasn’t there. Clarissa just forgot. You’d pick up the phone and it would be dead because she’d misplaced the bill. I guess I just started taking care of her.”
    “You’d have been awfully young for that.”
    “I didn’t mind.” This time the smile bloomed fully. There were, as with her mother, the faintest of dimples in her cheeks. “I was so much better at managing than she. We had a little more coming in once she started reading palms and doing charts. She really just sort of blossomed then. She has a need to help people, to give them—I don’t know—reassurance. Hope. Still, it was an odd time. We lived in a nice neighborhood and people would come and go through our living room. The neighbors were fascinated, and some of them came in regularly for readings, but outside the house there was a kind of distance. It was as if they weren’t quite sure of Clarissa.”
    “It would have been uncomfortable for you.”
    “Now and then. She was doing what she had to do. Some people shied away from us, from the house, but she never seemed to notice. Anyway, the word spread and she became friends with the Van Camps. I guess I was around twelve orthirteen. The first time movie stars showed up at the house I was awestruck. Within a year it became a matter of course. I’ve known actors to call her before they’d accept a role. She’d always tell them the same thing. They had to rely on their own feelings. The one thing Clarissa will never do is make decisions for anyone else. But they still called. Then the little Van Camp boy was kidnapped. After that the press camped on the lawn, the phone never stopped. I ended up moving her out to Newport Beach. She can keep a low profile there, even when another case comes up.”
    “There was the Ridehour murders.”
    She stood up abruptly and walked closer to the sea. Rising, David walked with her. “You’ve no idea how she suffered through that.” Emotions trembled in her voice as she wrapped her arms around herself. “You can’t imagine what a toll something like that can take on a person like Clarissa. I wanted to stop her, but I knew I couldn’t.”
    When she closed her eyes, David put a hand on her shoulder. “Why would you want to stop her if she could help?”
    “She grieved. She hurt. God, she all but lived it, even before she was called in.” She opened her eyes and turned to him then. “Do you understand, even before she was called in, she was involved?”
    “I’m not sure I do.”
    “No, you can’t.” She gave an impatient shake of her head for expecting it. “I suppose you have