• $9.99

Publisher Description

Jacob, Rosalinds father, pounded the top of the glass counter. His corpulent face was black with anger as he shouted furiously at the girls mother. Regina, you stupid woman! How many times I tell you? This ribbonyou do not take it for the hair of your daughters. Cant you get it into your dumb kopf brain? Is only for customers. Cant you understand me? Only for our customers!The trembling woman in her mid-thirties stood next to the bin filled with colorful ribbons of every hue and fabric. Still in her dressing gown, her normally high pompadour drooped a bit to her left, still untidy from the previous nights sleep. She stared down at her feet as she listened to the enraged shouting of her husband, shop proprietor Jacob Gordon.Guiltily, Regina whimpered a soft and gentle reply, Its only a little piece.************* Rosalind, Neva, her acquaintance at the next desk in the large office remarked to her one morning, I hear theres a great palm reader over onEighteenth Street. I figure Im going over for a reading tomorrow. Wanna come along?Neva was a flighty young woman. Her wild black hair always persisted in standing up in all directions as though struck by an electric current. Although it was uncommon for the day, she always sported a face full of heavy eye-makeup, accompanied by two round, red blotches of rouge on either cheek. These traits, plus a hooknose and thin body, presented a rather strange appearance.Rosalind bit at a hangnail as she turned around in her chair to face her friend. Aw, I dont believe in that stuff, Neva. Its all a bunch of baloney, anyway.Well, suit yourself, kid. But hey, it could be fun. After all, wha daya gotta lose? She cracked her spearmint gum a couple of times and turned back to her desk.Rosalind pondered the idea for a moment. Yeh, well, I suppose I could join you. Sounds like it just might be fun. Alright! Lets do it. Saturday morning they took the streetcar over to Halborn Boulevard and got off in front of a two-story run-down brick building. Rosalind looked around. Across the street, a couple of lowlifes were lounging in an open doorway. In front of her, the shop window held a faded sign, PALMS READ.Do you think this is the place? The area sure looks pretty seedy. Rosalind wrinkled her nose in disgust over the appearance of the general vicinity.Yeh, guess wed better get in. Fast, Neva replied.When they opened the door, a small overhead bell tinkled somewhat of a welcome. In a few moments, a woman entered the room. Ya come for a reading? She was heavyset, about fifty, wearing too much makeup on her paunchy face.Rosalind caught a glance of her dirty fingernails and thought, Ugh! She sure doesnt seem all that clean.Rosalind sat down on the single chair while her friend entered the mysterious inner sanctum. The one overhead light shone dimly against the rooms murkiness. As Rosalinds eyes became accustomed to the near darkness, she casually glanced around.On a nearby table, she noticed the layer of dust. God, it must be a half-inch thick. Ugh, those filthy drapes look ready to expire, and this heavy cigarette smoke is disgusting. Guardedly she reached for a torn, out-of-date magazine lying on the wobbly table next to her.After about fifteen minutes, Neva came out with a big smile on her happy face. Oh, she told me the swellest things that are going to happen in my life! Youre just gonna love this, she laughed. What fun.As the woman beckoned, Rosalind hesitantly followed behind her into the small anteroom and sat down at a round table.Thatll be twenty cents. The woman put out her dirty arthritic hand for payment. And then, Lem me see your palm. Rosalind obliged.Hmm, you got a long lifeline. Thats good.As she leaned forward, Rosalind shrunk back. Oh my God. She stinks. I wonder if she ever takes a bath.The woman continued, That lifeline. It means youll probably get to be a pretty old lady. And this here line means youre gonna travel a lot. The woman was speaking in an annoying monot

Biographies & Memoirs
September 8

More Books by Golda Fruchter Brunhild