The old ramshackle farmhouse sat on a small hill behind a copse of leafy trees. A cemetery with weather worn headstones leaning a-kilter adjoined the property. The scene looked like it was plucked from the pages of a gothic novel. As I approached the house with its faded and pealing yellow paint, a man emerged. Dressed in a black shirt and pants, he walked stooped over with his head down. His hair, as black as his clothing, fell forward, hiding his face. “Quasimodo” I thought, as he approached. But unlike Quasimodo, he spoke clearly. ‘What d’ya want?”
“I came to see Miss Green,” I stammered.
“Wait here,” he said, indicating the porch.
I sat in a wicker chair with a lumpy gingham cushion. More wicker chairs with the same lumpy cushions, crowded the small porch. Aluminum folding tables, plant stands, hanging baskets, wind chimes, ceramic statues of cutesy animal cats, dogs and birds all clumped together on the narrow wooden veranda.
Finally, Miss Green came out of the house and invited me in. She was a portly middle-aged woman with long yellow- white hair tied at the nape of her neck. She wore a flowered muumuu to her ankles and peered at me over Ben Franklin half glasses.
“Who sent you?” Her gravelly voice sputtered and coughed. I told her the name of the co- worker who recommended Miss Green and her uncanny psychic abilities. She pointed to a straight backed chair in front of a card table.
“Sit,” she said and sat opposite me.
If I thought the porch was crowded, it looked like a ballroom compared to the interior of the house. It had not a single wall that wasn’t covered with a variety of pictures, plaques and, I use the word loosely, “decorative items” The room bulged with overstuffed seating, overstuffed display cabinets and overstuffed tabletops. To add to the eccentricity, Miss Green had a shiny black mynah bird squawking out loud on a tee shaped pedestal, no words, just squawks. She hushed the bird and he immediately quieted. She sat before me with a deck of playing cards.
“I don’t read cards,” she said. “I just use them as a means of concentration. Any questions?” I shook my head.
As she turned the cards over one at a time and not looking at me, she said. “You work in a large building with many people.”
Not too insightful, since in New York, almost everyone worked in a large building.
“You have three children,” she said.
“No, I have two children.”
“Well, I see three children so if you only have two, you will have another,” she said. Wrong again, I still have two children, never had a third, but I did have a miscarriage. Hmmm.
“You will be involved in a court case and it will turn out in your favor.” Bingo. She was right. Shortly after, I did have a minor court case that ended in my favor.
“You will live to be a very old lady and stay in good health for all your life.” So far she’s right on that one too.
Was she psychic or just good at reading people? If Miss Green lived 300 years previously, they would have burned her at the stake as a witch.
