I open my mouth to give the same explanation I’ve been spouting to everyone, the one that sounds like the pack of lies it is. I decided Xavier’s wasn’t a good fit, I’m looking for new opportunities, it was time to move on, blah, blah, blah. But instead, what comes out of my mouth is, “Xavier sexually harassed me.”
Kasumi’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, Sadie. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” I stare out across the café. It still makes my skin crawl to remember it. “He dangled a promotion in front of me to try to get me to sleep with him.” It never ceases to be mortifying, does it? “One that he never intended to give me.”
Kasumi is silent for a minute, and then finally, she pulls her coat off, like she’s decided to stay for a while. And then she leans in. “He did that to me, too.”
My gaze flies to hers. “What? When?”
“A couple of different times. He’d reach across me while I was chopping vegetables and get a little too close. Or he’d make an uncomfortable dirty joke when nobody else was around.” She shakes her head. “And then one day, he called me into his office and tried to back me up against the desk…” She cringes. “I was lucky that one of the servers—Ethan—walked in, or I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Kasumi stares at her coffee, sliding her finger around the lip of the cup. “It was so embarrassing. I mean, I’m someone who stands up for herself, who works with her best friend to unionize her culinary school classmates…” She gives me a sad smile. “I just couldn’t believe it was happening to me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”
I nod because I get it. “Even though you know rationally that it’s not your fault, you wonder if maybe you did something to lead him on. Because otherwise, why would he ever think…” I trail off, remembering all the times Xavier complimented me on my pastries, all the times he dangled that promotion in front of me, and I’d been so grateful. Had I given him the wrong idea?
“Right, and you can’t help but think, he’s a world-renowned chef, and I’m just… me.” Kasumi shakes her head. “Who was going to believe me?”
“I would have.”
She meets my eyes now. “A year ago, I would have believed that unconditionally. But then all of a sudden, you started sucking up to him, going along when he wanted to parade you in front of those VIPs, and backing down when he bullied people. I… I didn’t know anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach out and grab her hand. “I’m so sorry you went through that, and I wasn’t there for you.”
“To be honest, I probably overreacted when I stopped talking to you for so long.” Her expression is pained. “I just wanted someone to blame, and it was easier to blame you than it was to blame Xavier, or you know… the whole fucking patriarchy.”
“I wish we’d just talked about this back then.”
“Well, I’m glad we’ve both gotten away from that place. And honestly, it’s probably for the best.” She gazes around the room. “This place is gorgeous, and that woman you work with seems really nice.” She hitches a chin in Zoe’s direction. “And I found a new job working with Devon.”
“Your social media influencer friend?”
“Yeah, he’s been planning these huge parties, and I’m working with him to promote them. It’s going really well, and I’m thinking of starting my own business.”
“Kasumi, that’s amazing!”
She pulls out her phone and shows me an Instagram post about a carnival-themed party tonight. I gasp. My gaze flies to her outfit, a sparkly red-and-white–striped T-shirt tucked into a black tulle skirt with suspenders. I’ve seen that outfit before. Oh my God. The carnival party is tonight.
“Kasumi,” I say, my voice shaking. “Will there be a fortune teller at the party?”
“Yes, why?” Her brow furrows. “What is it with you and fortune tellers?” But she sounds more curious than mad.
“I, uh.” What am I supposed to say to that? “I’m just curious. You know, it seems like fun to have your fortune told.”
“Well, I can put you on the list. I’ll be pretty busy running around at the party, but…” She flashes me a smile that’s almost shy. “Maybe we could hang out later this week?”
My chest swells like sourdough in the proofing drawer. “I’d really love that.”
She smiles and stands, pulling on her coat. “I have to go, but if you come tonight, just give the guy at the door your name. And I’ll text you about getting together later this week.” Kasumi pauses for a moment, and then she leans in and gives me a quick hug. “I’m really happy to see you, Sadie.”
“I’m really happy to see you, too.”
After Kasumi leaves, I break records mixing cake batter, piping choux pastry, and rolling out pie dough. I need to get to that party and find the fortune teller. We have some unfinished business.
Chapter 37
There have been a lot of moments over the past year where I’ve experienced that déjà vu feeling of having had a conversation or been in a certain place before. And, for the most part, I’ve gotten used to it. But nothing prepared me for walking into that carnival-themed party for the second time. I feel like I’ve stepped into a movie that’s playing on repeat, one with trapeze artists, sword-swallowers, and a low-key lion furry as a DJ.
And, oh shit. Clowns.
Bozo moonwalks across the dance floor, an actually pretty impressive feat considering those massive shoes. I’d stop to watch, but I don’t have a death wish, so I quickly scurry in the other direction. I grab a frothy buttered popcorn martini and down it for courage, realizing mid-chug that I didn’t like these things the first time around, and they’ve only gotten worse since my Very Bad Year. Still, I finish it because I’ve already committed.
I locate the fortune teller’s tent—not really an enormous challenge considering it’s in exactly the same place as it was the first time I found it—and I stay on the periphery of the room, edging around the bodies pulsing on the dance floor. As I draw closer to the panels of purple velvet, I try to swallow down the ball of spun sugar that seems to have lodged itself in the back of my throat. Last time around, I barreled inside the enclosure with a clown in hot pursuit. But now, I cautiously pull aside one curtain and slip inside, standing as straight and rigid as the tent poles holding it up.
The same tiny old woman with the same shiny red scarf tied over her long gray hair sits behind her table. Her crystal ball rests in exactly the same spot as it did during my Very Bad Year, and her scarlet-and-gold peasant dress rustles as she moves. I’m soothed by the familiarity of it all. She might be the only person in the world who understands this strange time loop I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m hoping for a moment where I’m not the only one holding the secret.
The fortune teller glances up from her crystal ball, takes one look at me, and mutters, “Oh, it’s you,” in a flat, disinterested voice.