The Walking Bread by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2021-10-29T14:21:37+00:00

Chapter 16

Back at home, I set Agatha free from her crate and opened the French doors that led from the parlor to the backyard. With a cup of rose-and-lavender-infused hot tea, a hunk of the sourdough bread I’d made, a floral-covered notebook, and my laptop, I settled in at the patio table. Agatha ran around in circles, foraged in the flower beds, and eventually wore herself out, stretching out in a sliver of sunlight on the grass. While she basked in the sun, I opened my notebook and recorded everything I knew about Max Litman, so far. Done with that, I opened my laptop, opened my browser, and began my search for spiritual leadership in Santa Sofia.

I hadn’t been sure how difficult it would be to find information on Vanessa, but it turns out it wasn’t hard at all. Googling “spiritual advisors” led me to a series of psychics and mediums, several professional counselors, and a life coach. A life coach who was named Vanessa Rose. Clicking over to her website and seeing her photograph confirmed that it was, indeed, the same woman. When Mrs. Branford and I had met her at Max Litman’s house, she hadn’t struck me as overtly metaphysical—or, truth be told, spiritual, at all. But the picture painted a different story. It had been taken with an exposure that created the effect of light streaming from behind her like an aura.

Turns out Vanessa was a Certified Life Coach and Spiritual Advisor with services that ran the gamut. She could help a person build loving relationships that work; cope with “hot buttons” like managing anger, frustration, and stress; deal with grief; develop self-awareness, self-worth, and self-esteem; and more. And she could also tap into a person’s psyche with her “third eye.”

Vanessa Rose was a one-stop therapist without the advanced degree to support her expertise. And with the added perk of angel readings. Knowing all of this made me want to go see her again so I could dig deeper into her relationship with Max. Without the benefit of a uniform and badge, however, I couldn’t compel her to talk to me. A cold call might scare her off, and then where would I be? Keeping this in mind, it didn’t take long to formulate the easiest and most logical plan: I was going to contact her about her services. After all, who couldn’t use a life coach?

I made the call, half expecting to get a recording, but she answered on the third ring. I introduced myself using my middle name, Anna, which was my mother’s name, and Cullison, the made-up surname I’d given to Johnny Wellborn. “I’ve never done this before,” I said tentatively. True statement.

“I hear that all the time. We’ll do a complimentary meet and greet first. I’ll come over, we’ll talk, and determine what your needs and goals are.”

Life coach/spiritual advisor/angel readers must not be in high demand in Santa Sofia, because she had availability the following morning. We made the appointment, but as I hung up, a case of nerves struck me.

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