The Anniversary Gift

The hand-lettered sign read: "Gypsy reads tea leaves - ONLY $10." Kendra frowned, as she read the sign taped to the window of 27 Trail Brook Avenue, Suite A. Then she reached in her jacket pocket and took out a piece of paper. She looked at the address on the shop and then at the note.

Why, she thought as she put the paper back in her pocket, would Greg send me to a fortune-teller. He knows I don’t believe in this crap. Before she leave the door opened and a raven-haired woman wearing a red peasant skirt and blouse motioned her to come in.

“Look,” Kendra said walking into the store, “I didn’t come here to have my fortune read. I’m was...”

“Please sat down, Mrs. Cartwright.” The woman pointed to a round oak table with two chairs. “I will get the tea.”

Taking a deep breath, Kendra sat down at the table. Looking around she noticed that the lights cast flickering shadows across the stained tile floor. She shivered, as she caught a glimpse of something moving at the edge of her vision and then laughed when a large black cat stepped into the light.

“Lady,” she said as the woman returned with an Oriental teapot and cup. “I don’t know what my husband told you, but...”

“Mrs. Cartwright,” the Gypsy poured tea into the cup, “your husband asked me to wish you a happy first anniversary before I read the leaves.”

“So this is Greg’s idea of an anniversary gift,” she picked up the cup up. “Do I take a sip?”

“You take three sips and with each sip you think of a question you want answered, but you do not state the questions aloud.”

Will my marriage last for fifty years? Kendra savored the hot liquid. Will Greg and I ever have any children? The tea tasted like cinnamon and peppermint. Will meet Greg’s parents? She placed the teacup on the table.

The Gypsy picked up the cup and studied the leaves for about five minutes. “The leaves tell me that your husband’s parents will visit you in three days. The leaves also say you will celebrate your seventy-fifth wedding anniversary surrounded by three children and a dozen grandchildren.”

Stepping out of the shadows by the door, Greg helped his wife out of the chair and took her into his arms. “Happy Anniversary, Kendra,” he whispered into her ear.

“And I thought you forgot,” she kissed him, took a small box out of her pocket, and placed it in his right hand. “This is my gift to you.” They left the shop hand-in-hand.