I reached for my tarot deck, the cards familiar under my fingers. “Do you mind if we pull a couple of cards to clarify?”
She nodded quickly. “Please.”
I shuffled, centering myself. “Let’s ask. What does Greta need to know about stepping into this business? What is the outcome if she commits to it with structure and heart?”
Greta’s eyes widened as three cards slipped free, nudging my fingers. I laid them out.
The Empress. Three of Pentacles. Eight of Pentacles.
I exhaled a soft laugh. “The universe really is unsubtle today.”
“What do they mean?” Greta asked, leaning in.
I tapped the Empress. “This is you. Nurturer, creator, mother. She’s abundance, but not in a flashy way. She grows things slowly and steadily. This card is about tending to what you love and watching it flourish.”
Next was the Three of Pentacles. “This is collaboration. Community. You don’t build this alone. Word-of-mouth recommendations, maybe even partnering with local funeral homes or new parent groups down the line.”
Greta’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“And the Eight of Pentacles,” I said, smiling. “This is the card of the artisan. The craftsperson who hones their skill over time, building a solid reputation. It’s long-term work. Not a quick fix, but something you become known for.”
Greta stared at the cards, then at the chart, then back at me. “So… you think I should do it?”
I took a breath. The threads above the chart shimmered, waiting.
“I think,” I said carefully, feeling the truth anchor in my bones, “that if there was ever a time for you to give this an honest go, it’s now. I think your chart shows that your soul is crying out for work that honors your love for your husband, your love for your kids, and your own need to create. And I think this quilting business of yours has the bones to support you—emotionally and financially—if you treat it like the real thing from the start.”
We spent another twenty minutes going through practicalities like timing, brainstorming business names—we both liked HeartStitch Keepsakes—looking at months where the energy ramped up. I gave her some dates to circle for launching.
All the while, the threads hovered, occasionally pulsing when we landed on a timeline that aligned with them. I kept my hands firmly on the physical side of the table.
Eventually, Greta stood, tucking her notes into her bag alongside a small piece of rose quartz I pressed into her hand for courage.
“Thank you,” she said, voice trembling but steadier somehow. “I… I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for a year and someone just told me I’m allowed to breathe again.”
“You are,” I said, throat tight. “And you don’t have to do it perfectly. Just… start. One stitch at a time.”
She laughed wetly, wiping her eyes. “That sounds like something my gran would’ve said.” She glanced at Bracken, who was now grooming his tail like he hadn’t just watched me manhandle fate. “And thank you… to your friend.”
“He says you’re welcome,” I said.
“I like her,”Bracken commented.“She’s got a brave heart.”
When the door shut behind her and her car pulled away, the house fell into a thick, humming silence.
The threads above the coffee table were fading, sinking back toward the chart, but not entirely gone. I stared at them, pulse roaring in my ears.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “What the actual hell was that?”
Bracken hopped off my shoulder onto the table, tiny nose twitching as he sniffed at the remaining shimmer.“That, lass, was you stepping into what you are. A chartweaver.”
“I’ve never even heard that word before,” I protested. “Gran never said I was?—”
Bracken gave me a look.“Your gran also didn’t tell you you’d end up sharing a house with your former friend’s ex-boyfriend, but here we are. Just because you didn’t get a pamphlet at birth doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Please explain,” I said, crossing my arms, heart still racing. “Seriously, I’m, like, shaking.”
He puffed himself up.“There are witches who read charts like reading a map. There are witches who sense threads of fate like feeling vibrations on a web. And then there are the rare ones who can actually touch those threads and shift them a hair. Not rewrite fate entirely,”he added quickly, as if he saw the panic rising on my face.“That’s beyond anyone. But they can… nudge. Strengthen certain paths. Soften others. Help mend tears.”