The Madness of Mercury (14 page)

I looked around, sad that I was leaving my fresh wreath above the mantel. Was my apartment safe? Would anyone try to break in? I double-checked that all the windows and doors were locked, especially the window over the kitchen sink. That was the only vulnerable window in the whole apartment. It would take an extremely limber person, but it might be possible to balance on the railing of the tiny landing and push that window up. I had to trust that the lock would be good enough to prevent that. I packed up my Christmas finds in a giant department store bag, with wrapping paper and ribbons and, making two trips, lugged everything, including Wizard, across the street to my car. I sat in the driver’s seat for a moment and looked up at my windows, imagining a protective bubble over my apartment until I could return again. I started the car.

Wizard immediately began to howl. I shushed him, clicked on the radio, and drove toward town.

F
OURTEEN

I
PULLED UP IN
front of the street level garage of my grandmother’s house in Castle Alley. Parking in North Beach is next to impossible and any other option would involve circling the entire area for an hour. I lugged Wizard’s stuff—which far outweighed my laptop and overnight bag—up the stairs and unlocked the front door. No cats travel light.

If Kuan is free, he peeks out to say hello when he hears my car. A
Do Not Disturb
sign in English and Cantonese hung on his door. He was with a client.

I made two trips up the interior stairway to Gloria’s kitchen, depositing my overnight bag in the room that was once my bedroom and now is a sitting room and workroom. I wasn’t worried about needing clothes. I had underwear, jeans, a couple of sweaters, and a skirt; enough for a few days. My grandmother is a retired seamstress and once had her own shop. Now she keeps closets full of samples in my size. There’s no event that wouldn’t be covered from the wardrobe she keeps on hand for herself and for me.

I organized Wizard’s stuff, filling his cat box with litter and his bowls with dry food and water. The apartment felt chilly, so I checked the thermostat in the hallway and turned it up to warm the place. Then I set up my laptop on Gloria’s worktable and resolved to get some work done.

In spite of the harassment the column had engendered, or rather my opinionated big mouth had caused, I was still happy to be working for the newspaper. I decided not to check my
AskZodia
email at all—I had no further need of Biblical quotations, thank you very much. Samantha had sent another twenty letters to my new email address and, breach of security or not, I was still obligated to prepare Zodia’s responses.

I opened each email and quickly read through all of them. I dragged the ones that offered a range of different generational issues into an archive. The rest, as usual, I returned to Sam, asking her to send a form response.

I thought back to the reply I’d written a week or so prior, and which the newspaper had printed a few days ago. I clicked into my folder where each week’s letters were saved and scrolled down the list until I found it.

Dear Zodia:

I’ve never written to an astrologer before or asked for help of this sort, but I’m at my wit’s end and don’t know what to do. My mother has become involved with some sort of religious group that seems to have taken over her life. She’s at meetings day and night and now wants to live with them. It’s called Prophet’s Paradise. I’m so worried about her, especially since she must transfer the title to her home to the church in order to move into the community. My birthday is August 15, 1955. My mother’s birthday is January 10, 1930.

— Desperate in San Leandro

Dear Desperate:

I don’t blame you for being worried. I’d be extremely suspicious as well. Your mother’s chart shows that Neptune is transiting her Ascendant and Mercury, and her progressed Moon has entered her 9th house. Renewed interest in spiritual matters makes perfect sense, but with Neptune close to her Ascendant and Mercury, she may be attracted to movements that require sacrifice and subservience. Perhaps you should investigate this so-called Prophet’s Paradise yourself. Frankly, it sounds an awful lot like a criminal scam designed to defraud the unwary. Beware of false prophets! Another alternative would be to seek legal help to have yourself appointed as her guardian, so she would not lose her home.

— Zodia

Well, there it was. Undoubtedly the statement that had painted a bull’s-eye on my rear end, although it might have happened anyway simply because of my column. There was nothing I could do about it now. And, more to the point, why was this supposed do-gooder requiring his followers to sign over their real estate? I opened a browser and found the Prophet’s website.

Very slick. Pictures of soup kitchens, summer camps for kids, religious retreats for adults, artful photos of adoring congregations. Testimonials from devoted members and upstanding citizens. Lots of talk about God’s love and not much of real substance.

A new idea popped into my head. A sweet revenge. They’d tried to intimidate me, I was sure, because of this response. On an impulse I forwarded the email to Sam with a note asking her to reprint it again as soon as possible in the Zodia column. As far as I was concerned, the paper could run the damn response in every column. Let’s see what the Army of the Prophet made of that. Keep my mouth shut? I don’t think so!

It was time to have a belated look at my own chart. Sure enough, Uranus had moved into exact opposition to my fourth house Moon. Both the fourth house and the Moon are intimately connected with the concept of home. Mars had moved into position squaring the opposition yesterday, the first day the zealots had arrived on my doorstep. I groaned. I knew this was coming, but never in my wildest dreams had I thought it would manifest in this form. Mars would be stationary on that degree for a few more days. Uranus wouldn’t move on for another week. I quickly checked to make sure that neither the Sun, Moon, nor any eclipses would be hitting sensitive points in my chart during this intense time. Whatever happened, the worst would be over soon, and with luck I’d survive the coming week without an eviction notice.

Wizard meowed and climbed onto my lap, burrowing his face into my sweater. I scratched his ears. They were cold. Come to think of it, I was cold. I picked Wiz up and checked the thermostat again. It read seventy-two but felt twenty degrees colder. I turned it up to eighty-five to jump-start it. Wizard hopped out of my arms and ran back to the daybed, snuggling under my jacket.

“I don’t blame you, big guy,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the place warmed up.”

I went down the stairs to the kitchen and put a kettle on to make some tea. I needed to find food too. My grandmother is a fabulous cook. Now that she lived alone, she couldn’t stop cooking larger portions. I was sure the freezer was stocked with many small meals, enough to last for weeks in case of a dire earthquake emergency. I also suspected she would trot downstairs to Kuan’s apartment regularly to bring food to him. I was too hungry to wait for something to defrost, so I found a can of soup in the pantry, dumped it in a bowl, and heated it in the microwave. It helped to warm me, but by the time I finished and rinsed the bowl, I realized the heater still hadn’t kicked on. Something was definitely wrong.

I walked downstairs to the front door and peeked through the beveled glass window. Kuan’s door stands at a ninety-degree angle to Gloria’s. The sign was gone; it was safe to knock. Kuan answered the door almost immediately. He’s is in his seventies, wiry and energetic with beautiful posture. That day he wore an outfit of black cotton pants and a plain long-sleeved shirt without a collar.

“Julia, how are you? I heard you arrive.”

“I’m fine, but the furnace doesn’t seem to be working. How’s yours?”

“It’s warm and toasty in here. You might want to call a repairman, see what’s wrong. You’re welcome to stay here if you like.”

“You have patients coming today?”

“Just one later, at five o’clock.”

“In that case, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to disturb you. Keep your fingers crossed the furnace hasn’t died. I’ll turn on the kitchen oven for now and call someone.” I kissed his cheek. “Thanks anyway. I’ll see you later.” Gloria was nothing if not organized. I pulled her Rolodex out of the desk drawer and found a card for Prager Heating & Cooling. A woman answered. I could hear the sound of screaming children in the background.

“Jerry’s out on a call right now. He’s in Daly City, but maybe I can reach him and have him stop by later.”

“That would be great.” I gave her Gloria’s address and my cell number, stressing that I’d be waiting all afternoon. I resigned myself to working on the kitchen table and turned the gas oven up to four hundred degrees. I know that’s not the best idea, but I was desperate. I reheated the mug of tea and used it to warm my fingers.

I debated again whether to sign on to my
AskZodia
email, and this time decided to do it. As soon as it opened, a new email popped up. With a feeling of dread, I opened it, hoping no one had sent me a computer virus.

“
If my people which are called by my name shall humble themselves and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin …
”

I closed the browser. I didn’t need to read any more, but I was delighted to learn my sins could be forgiven. I picked up the phone and dialed Samantha.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Julia! Les has been calling everyone into his office for the third degree. Everyone who had access to our files here and in Payroll. He’s really upset about this.”

“Good. I hope he gets to the bottom of it. I’ve got some more responses to send back to you, by the way. Did you get the one I asked you to reprint?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Can you do that?”

“Sure, why not? If that’s why you’re being harassed, then all the more reason people should read it.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Julia, I just love the Zodia column. And it’s such a success. I read the letters that come in before I send them to you. And then I read your responses every week. I really hope you don’t let this scare you away.”

“A few kooks aren’t gonna shut me up. Don’t worry.” I heard
the doorbell ring. “I gotta go. We’ll talk later.” I pushed my laptop away and walked down the stairs to the front door. A thirty-something chubby man in baggy jeans with a round apple-cheeked face stood on the threshold.

“Jerry?”

“That’s me. Jerry Prager. What’s the trouble?”

“Well, I don’t know. The furnace doesn’t seem to give off any heat from the vents.”

“I’ll have a look. Where is it? The garage?”

“Yes. Wait a sec, I’ll get the keys.” I ran upstairs and rummaged through Gloria’s desk until I found a set, then walked down the outside stairs to where Jerry waited. I turned the lock and heaved the old-fashioned wooden garage door open. Jerry followed me into the darkened space. He pulled out a flashlight and examined the furnace.

“Well, at least this baby is a lot newer than your house. Must be from the early sixties. A wonder it’s lasted so long.”

“What do you see?”

“Your furnace is cracked.”

“Cracked?”

“Yup. Gotta shut your gas off.”

“What? You’re kidding. That’s the only thing that’s keeping any heat at all in the house.” It doesn’t snow in San Francisco, at least that I’ve ever heard, but in winter, the freezing winds off the Pacific and the Alaskan currents hitting the west coast keep the weather cold and damp.

“Sorry, lady. It’s required. And these old houses don’t have a separate shut off for just the furnace, so if you have a gas stove, you won’t be able to use it. It’s real dangerous. You can check with the gas company if you don’t believe me. You’ve gotta replace this one.”

I groaned. Not only couldn’t I go home, but I couldn’t let Gloria come back to a freezing house, not after her cruise. She’d end up with pneumonia. “How soon could you replace it?”

“Well … ” Jerry pulled off his baseball cap. I could see a premature bald spot and pink skin on the top of his head. He scratched the bald spot and replaced the cap. “Best I can do … is three days from now, maybe two. I’ve got one helper down with the flu, another furnace replacement on the schedule, and I’ve gotta order a new one delivered from the factory. Even if I could do it sooner, I doubt I could get you one till then anyway.” He shone his flashlight at Kuan’s furnace. “I see the downstairs apartment had a new one put in. Maybe a few years ago? Now that’s a real beauty. I could get you one of those.”