“Clothing of Sorts,” Margot answers the desk phone the next day, sounding very professional. It is their business as well as residential line, so she always answers this way. Besides, why would they receive a social call? It’s not like they have any family that would call.

The phone ringing at all is a rarity; it’s abnormal for anything to break the trance of the sisters while they’re crafting together. Still, it’s a bit of a breather for them. Lottie drops her current project into her lap and gently rocks in her rocking chair, restfully watching Margot’s back.

“Yes, and who may I say is calling?” Margot asks in a stilted tone. The other two sisters freeze, as much due to the tone as to the question. “One moment,” Margot says and pauses, with her back still to her sisters. Then, cupping her hand over the phone while lowering it from her ear, Margot slowly swivels in her desk chair to face Lottie. Margot’s eyes are swirling chaos - the haunting Face of Death. While those eyes would drive a mortal mad, it’s still very unsettling for Lottie to see, and she grows upset with Margot for deliberately facing her while in that state. Thank heavens we’re not Gorgons, Lottie thinks to herself, exasperated.

Finally, Margot says flatly, “I can’t see him. He’s hidden from me. A complete and utter mystery.” Her dark, hideous eyes stop spinning, and the color returns to her face. “It’s Duncan, of course, for you.” She extends the phone, and Lottie snatches it from her. The cord jerks across Margot’s chest, which makes her snicker.

(Yes, the Fates have a landline phone with a cord. Do you honestly expect them to upgrade their technology frequently? It’s like only the other day that they got the ancient computer off of dial-up and got the website together. And they all agree that a phone with a cord seems to suit them. Except for right now, Lottie sighs.)

Lottie stands up in the middle of the crafting room, trapped there as the phone cord does not allow her to leave, especially with her wickedly smiling older sister in the way, somewhat entangled by the cord. Moments ago, Claire had begun preparing the deep green dye that Lottie had nonchalantly asked for that morning, but Claire couldn’t continue working, not now, not with this much drama in the room!

After a grimace at Claire’s ridiculously hopeful smile, Lottie becomes resolute and finally puts the phone to her ear and asks in a gracious voice, “Yes?” A pause. “Fine. How are you?” A longer pause. “Well, you could just use the website for placing orders. As I told you, I’m not very good at… taking them. Orders, I mean. For clothing.” Margot cackles, and Claire giggles quietly. “Yes, that was my sister who takes the orders. Would you like to speak with her again?” A pause, and then Lottie’s shoulders droop a little. “Well, I’m afraid, as it is, that I’m in for a merciless teasing from both of my sisters, so I can’t really talk right now.” She sighs during this pause, but then she listens more intently. “Okay, that would be fine. No, it’s not a bother. It’s just that my sisters are incredibly immature.” Margot mocks dismay, while Claire ducks her head, ashamed. Lottie smiles during this pause. “Oh, then you understand. All right, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye now.”

Lottie waits for the call to disconnect before handing the phone back to Margot, who grins up at her maliciously. Claire is bubbling over with excitement, and blurts out, “Please tell us what he said, Lottie! We can’t see or hear him! Did he just ask you out?”

“Oh, Margot is bad enough, but not you too, Claire!” Lottie drops into her padded rocking chair and picks up the half-done sweater sleeve that she currently has on needle.

“Is he handsome?” Claire asks, and Lottie laughs, turning to glare at her younger sister. Claire, who seems to age slightly faster than her sisters over the years, is beaming with a rejuvenating smile. She is such a hopeless romantic, and Lottie knows that this situation with Duncan would feed Claire’s hunger for romance. Caught up in their excitement, Lottie almost forgets about the danger, which stings enough to make her angry. If she develops a relationship with this mortal man, she could accidentally but irrevocably injure his mind and ruin his life. How could she take such a chance?

“’Is he handsome?!’ He was on the phone! I couldn’t SEE him either!” Lottie turns back around and squints at her needle tips.

“I just meant that you never described him after you met him the other day, that’s all,” Claire says defensively. “So what does he look like?”

“Oh, like that matters.” Lottie knits, while her sisters look at one another, baffled.

“Uh, yeah, it totally matters,” Margot says, smiling. “We’re flying blind here, sis, so unless he’s stopping by to pick you up tomorrow, I think we need at least a brief description.”

“I am meeting him elsewhere,” Lottie says so seriously that she cracks herself up. After the sisters share a laugh, Lottie lets loose with the goods. “He’s cute, all right? He’s slightly taller than me. He is very fair haired, almost like you Claire, but kind of thin on top, you know? Just a sort of normal looking guy, but nice. Friendly and sweet. Not at all threatening. Just… nice, you know?”

“Sounds boring to me,” Margot says, and waits for Lottie to glare at her or at least fire back a retort.

“I’m sure he would bore you,” Lottie sniffs. “He’s far too pleasant for your tastes.”

“Ouch. Ha-ha! Look at you, sitting there so smug. Lottie’s got a boyfriend,” Margot sings, and when Lottie finally glances over at her, they share a friendly, sisterly smile that surprises them both.

Lottie is also surprised when neither sister whittles out of her where she’s meeting the mysterious Mr. Duncan Gerstner the next day. But could it be any great surprise that he suggests a coffee shop -- one not too far from the busy bakery where they had met a couple of days earlier? Meeting for coffee is the socially acceptable thing to do for casual acquaintances these days, right? For someone who secretly affects the lives of so many people, Lottie should know this, but as usual, when it comes to actually living life in real time as a person in present day, she’s at a loss. What to do, how to behave, when to just be a human being as the clock ticks away the seconds… it all makes her so anxious!

As she scans the café tables along the sidewalk, she considers turning tail and fleeing into the traffic, but then Duncan spots her, stands up and waves her over. Trudging over to him, Lottie feels like a goofball, hiding behind her largest and darkest pair of sunglasses. At least the sun is out at the moment, so she doesn’t look completely absurd.

“Hi,” she says, blushing enough that she can feel her own hot face. Damn these red cheeks, she grouses to herself. For a moment, they both can’t decide on a handshake or a hug, and they linger in uncomfortable indecision for a painful eternity.

Finally he laughs, gives her a little hug and says, “Thank you for coming, Lottie.” Just as he’s pulling away, she impulsively pecks him on his jawline. He turns and holds out a chair for her, smiling good-naturedly, as if to apologize for the awkwardness.

“Thanks,” she says, and sits down. She’s incredibly nervous but she scolds herself, as there’s absolutely no reason to be. He can’t look into her eyes, and they’re sitting out in the sun, so the dark glasses make sense and everything will be fine. Besides, she hasn’t felt her eyes spin at all so far. In fact, she suddenly realizes, she doesn’t remember ever having a vision while engaged in conversation with Duncan. Could that mean…? Oh, but that would be too much to hope for, she thinks and wishes for it anyway: Please make his presence prevent the visions!

“You’re very welcome,” he says as he sits down across from her. “Have you come here before?”

“I have not,” she’s beaming with an honest smile, “I don’t go out for coffee much.”

“Do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she answers happily with a firm nod.

“Well, do you know what you’d like?”

“I do not,” she says, suddenly flabbergasted and nervously laughing.

“Well then, come on,” and he stands and escorts her into the coffee shop. Inside, Lottie is bowled over by all the different choices available to her. How long has it been since she’d had a cup of coffee outside of her little home? Claire always makes the coffee every morning, as she is always the first up. Lottie secretly prefers the way Margot makes it, but Margot always makes it late in the day. Lottie has successfully avoided coffee duty throughout its existence – one of the best-kept secrets of the Middle Fate!

While jostled among the people waiting, she stares up at the menu so long that she becomes embarrassed, but Duncan offers no pressure. In fact, he seems to be amused at her indecision. Of course, his amusement is an added distraction to her already tumultuous decision-making process.

“I’m sorry that I’m taking so long, it’s just…” Lottie trails off, lost in thought as another item on the menu catches her eye, taking her mind back to a time in France, many years ago, and she feels her eyes begin to spin. Dismayed, she jerks her head away from Duncan, who was watching her in profile. She cannot afford to let a bit of maddening eternity slip around the edge of her sunglasses and harm her new friend. That’s what he is, she reminds herself, while caught up in alarm. “I’m sorry,” she calls out, pressing her sunglasses tightly against her face and looking down, with her back to him.

“Are you all right?” Duncan asks softly, stepping closer to her, while she continues to turn away from him, keeping her back to him, waiting for the Forever Sight to stop. She is seeing Paris, over a century ago. A young man meets a young woman at a café. They fall in love. They get married. They have babies. The babies grow up. Years pass. First the man dies, and then the woman. Some of the grown children stay in Paris, while others move away. Some die in battles, others die from diseases. There are more marriages, more children, more love, more hate and more death. Very far away, she hears Duncan calling to her. “Lottie?” He echoes through the void.

“Hold on a minute,” she calls out, uncertain of how loud she is speaking. She hopes it doesn’t come out as a shrill scream, if he can hear her at all. Afraid of falling, she tries to steady herself, but then she feels his hands on her body. One hand is on her right shoulder, the other on her left hip. He’s bracing her so she won’t fall. It’s comforting, and it helps bring her back to the present. Suddenly, the void is gone, Lottie can see the stained coffee shop tile floor again, and she feels very self-conscious.

“Lottie, are you all right?” His soothing voice is near her left ear, his head hovering over her left shoulder.

“I am,” she says, straightening up and smiling sheepishly, glancing briefly at his face. His expression is one of concern and understanding. He is calm, and his touch helps to slow down her frantic heartbeat. So much for that wish about not having the visions while he is around, she grouches to herself, but she can’t help feeling relieved. “Just having an episode. Could you order something for me? Anything would be nice, I’m sure.”

She starts to wander away from him, heading outside, still shaken, but he quickly takes her left hand and pulls her gently back to his side. Lottie marvels at how wonderful this gesture makes her feel immediately. She could easily break away from him, but her new feelings change her mind about wanting to be alone. With his grip on her hand, he supports her, and she leans against him. She can’t remember feeling anything quite this tender, other than Claire’s embrace, which of course is definitely not the same. Claire, for all her sisterly love, always feels like an ineffectual comfort to Lottie. This normal, mortal man supports her now, bringing her back into focus, and it warms her. The smell of coffee intensifies. They inch forward in line until it’s their turn, and Lottie closes her eyes, listening to him order a cappuccino. He turns to her, asking if she wants the same. She squeezes his hand to reassure him how very comfortable she feels at this moment. He lightly squeezes back.

After placing their order, they walk back to their sidewalk table in the sunlight, hand in hand. He pulls out her chair again and she thanks him again.

“Everything okay?” He asks with a sensitive smile, looking at her across the little table.

“Yes, just embarrassed, I guess.” She glances away at passing traffic.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. What happened?” He puts his elbows on the table, which wobbles a bit under him, so he quickly removes them and drops his hands into his lap, all the while blinking at her warmly.

“Oh, I have these spells sometimes,” she gestures with one hand fluttering in the air, her mind reeling about what she should say. She imagines Margot laughing at her later today, or maybe being angry with her for saying too much. It will likely be both.

“Well, that’s fairly normal, isn’t it? Happens to a lot of people,” he smiles reassuringly.

“Not like mine,” she sighs. Don’t correct him, her older sister’s voice barks in her imagination, let him answer his own questions! What, do you plan on telling him everything?! That would likely have… what? Dire consequences? What awful thing will happen if she tells him a little or even everything? She barely knows him, so it’s impossible to predict, or at least her imagination is coming up empty. She can’t even hear her sister’s scolding anymore. They’ve been living this way for centuries longer than she can remember, and suddenly she can’t figure out why they’ve always lied to people. Bad things happened long ago, that much she recalls if vaguely, but that wouldn’t happen now, right? It’s so frustrating to be put on the spot like this! Why didn’t she consider this before she came?

Lottie notices she’s been quiet for too long, but Duncan doesn’t seem to mind, watching her and waiting. He beams at her and raises his eyebrows, as if to prod her or just make her laugh. He succeeds in the latter, but now she’s so flustered, she can’t bring herself to speak. Of course, her face is glowing white hot. It would.

“Do you have seizures?” He finally asks, gently.

“Not really,” she sighs again and then becomes frustrated with herself. She should have planned what to say. Let go, Lottie. Just relax. “I don’t know, maybe you could call them that. I just tune out for a while sometimes. It’s embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t be. Have you seen a doctor?”

“I have. A very long time ago.”

“Do you drive a car?”

“What? No.” And then she laughs uncomfortably.

“Sorry, just wondering. If you ever need a lift, I’ll give you my number.” He gets out a tiny notebook and writes his name and number on a piece of paper, tears it out and hands it to her. “Nobody walks in L.A., right?”

“Thanks,” she accepts the paper and looks at it. The numbers blur a bit. What is she going to do about her fading human vision?

“Can you read it?” He asks, watching her squint and move the paper closer and then farther from her face, still wearing her ubiquitous sunglasses.

“Yeah…”

“Are you getting farsighted?”

“I’m afraid so,” she sighs. She can’t stop sighing!

“Been to the eye doctor again?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Do you feel like talking?” He asks, in the same soothing tone, but she looks up at him, alarmed. All her sighing probably sounds like she’s completely bored or exasperated with him.

“Well… yes. I’m sorry if I’m distracted. I’ve got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“That’s okay. I can do the talking for a while if you prefer. I can tell you about myself. I can ask questions or avoid asking questions, whichever you’d prefer. But if there’s anything bothering you, please let me know. I’d love to help.”

Lottie thinks for a moment, gathering up her courage. Finally, she asks the question she most wants to know, for whatever reason. “Why did you remember me?”

“You mean, the other day?”

“Yes, you recognized me. After over two years, you recognized me.”

“Why? Are you hiding?” He grins, but when she can’t seem to answer right away, he looks concerned. “Lottie, what’s wrong?”

“Me,” she finally answers, and starts to cry. “I’m what’s wrong. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, after making me feel so nice. You really helped me back there when I started falling apart. But now you’re going to think I’m this helpless crazy woman, and you’re probably right.” She sniffs. Only a couple of tears get out, and she gasps a bit, trying to recover from the swelling lump in her throat.

“Lottie,” Duncan says as he reaches across the table and takes her hands. “If you really want to know why I remembered you after all this time, I’ll tell you. It’s because you’re cute.”

Her laugh comes out as a loud snort, and she immediately covers her face.

“I’m serious! And it embarrasses me a bit because I have to admit now what a shallow person I am. I remembered you because you are damn cute. In fact, I think you’re even cuter now than you were two years ago.”

She eyes him behind her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow and mocking a suspiciousness that really isn’t there. She feels flattered -- amazingly so. When she drops her hands away from her face and he covers them with his own in the middle of the table, she likes it. It warms her all over again. And she realizes that this feeling must keep the visions away, or at least it seems that way. While thinking about Duncan, the man she cannot see in her visions, she doesn’t have visions. It makes sense, in the logic of the Forever Sight. (He may well be too much of an influence in her near future for her to see him in the void, and she certainly doesn’t recall ever having knitted his soul.) If she lets her mind wander away from him or herself or thoughts of the two of them together, then the visions will likely return, like they did inside the coffee shop. The relief of this realization sweeps over her like a warm summer breeze. Finally, she has found her bearings!

“So I have to doubt that you are what’s wrong,” Duncan is saying. “Maybe the two of us bumping into one another was some kind of destiny, some kind of coincidence that was supposed to happen. I like to think I’m here to help you if I can. Because talking to you makes me feel good, and I’d like to help you feel good too, if I can.”

After a long moment of several breaths, slow and easy, Lottie says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, still holding her hands and smiling at her.

“Do you believe in destiny? That sort of thing?” She ventures, shocked at her own train of thought, which had been gaining momentum ever since Duncan mentioned destiny. Will she actually reveal to a mortal her true nature, on a first date no less? Margot will certainly kill her for this. Verbally, at least.

“I’m open to anything…” he says, and then a loud-speaker calls out their names. “Oh, excuse me. I’ll get our drinks. Are you going to be all right?”

She nods and watches him hurry back inside, politely making his way through the standing crowd. He returns with their cups, and she thanks him again. “They were probably ready a while ago,” Duncan apologizes sheepishly. “We were just too wrapped up in our conversation to notice.”

“The conversation was worth it,” Lottie says and blows away the steam. “Besides, it helped them cool down a bit.” She sips at the hot coffee and it warms her, but not as much as Duncan’s hands a minute ago. After a second sip, she slowly snakes her left hand back over the table until Duncan takes the hint and reaches out to meet her halfway. Feeling more courageous than she’s been in ages, Lottie finally says, “I think you’re cute too.”

This first makes Duncan appear pleasantly surprised, and then he remains silent for a moment. Behind her sunglasses, Lottie’s eyes linger on his face, instead of darting to it occasionally as she had been doing. She watches a different kind of smile take hold of Duncan – a confident, proud smile. They look at each other while gently feeling the small contours of the other’s hand.

“I guess,” Duncan says after quietly clearing his throat, “at this point I should inquire if you have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or a spouse or what have you. Would you tell me about yourself, Lottie?”

Never letting go of his hand, Lottie leans back in her chair and sighs. She glances up at the few high clouds. How does she describe herself and her life without sounding bizarre? Whatever she is to say, she likes being open and honest with Duncan; why not be completely open? It makes her feel exhilaration. She draws herself up and squares her shoulders, returning her gaze to Duncan.

“I have not had a close friend other than my two sisters that I can remember, and there have been no men in my life for ages, I am sorry to say. You see, I’m very much intrigued by men now. Many, many years ago,” she pauses to chuckle to herself and then gets serious, “men were a danger, you understand? We withdrew from society. We’re reclusive. Hermits. It’s been just me and my sisters for such a long time. I was happy remaining apart from the world in my way and spending my time thinking of other people, imagining men and women and their lives. But since I bumped into you again, I’m no longer happy just imagining a friendship with a man. I am very glad that you asked me to have coffee with you, Duncan.”

“Me too. That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say,” he says, giving her hand a squeeze, “and I think I could listen to you forever, Lottie.”

“Forever is a long time,” she says with a tilt of the head and one raised eyebrow. “I know that better than some.”

“You sound wise beyond your years.” Duncan flashes his eyes.

“You don’t know beyond my years.” Lottie shakes her head wearily. “I am very, very old. Ancient, in fact.”

“Well, then you’ve aged beautifully,” he tugs at her hand a little.

“I think you flatter me,” Lottie says, now sounding lost in thought. She’s picturing the two of them together in the very near future. This is her human imagination, since Duncan must not be a part of her Forever Sight, so it might not happen. It’s thrills her, all the same.

“Aw, I’m just being honest,” Duncan says, leaning forward. He waits for Lottie to respond, as her smile fades to passivity. He wonders what she’s thinking, as she seems lost in thought. Finally, he begins to wonder if this is another seizure. Does she just blank out like this? Quietly, he asks, “Lottie? Are you all right?”

“Do you want to have a relationship with me?” Lottie asks him suddenly, emerging from her deep thoughts with resolute bluntness.

He’s stunned for a moment, and then stammers, “Y-yes. Of course I do. I would really like that. Would you?”

“I think so,” she says, still with an air of seriousness that isn’t especially flirty. “You seem really nice, but there is a risk. I do not want to hurt you.”

“Oh,” Duncan says, relieved. “Well, I don’t want anyone to be hurt either. Don’t worry too much about that, Lottie. I know there’s always a certain risk for hearts to be broken, but I’ve got a really good feeling about you and me.”

“I do too,” she says, sounding strangely grave, “otherwise, I would not be here talking with you. But I must warn you. There is great danger for you that I doubt you suspect.”

“Really?” Duncan chuckles, trying to break down Lottie’s ominous mood. “May I try to guess? Is it your family? Your sisters? Is it…” he realizes she is very serious, and he stops. “Is it really serious?”

“Yes.”

“Is it your… illness?”

“It’s not an illness.” She sighs. She has to be completely honest with him. Her heart is too involved. For all the crying she does for each soul’s life span that stretches between her needles, her heart is beating urgently in a way she can barely remember but certainly enjoys now. Lottie wonders if this is how Margot feels every night she goes out, wanting companionship however brief, with the power to end it suddenly with a life-changing glance. (That is unless Margot has no conscience at all.) Duncan looks so sweet across the table, holding her hand, waiting for her to speak. This is the big test to see if he can handle the facts, as fantastic as they will be to him, and Margot be damned. Lottie can trust Duncan to keep their secret.

“I have a special ability,” she starts gingerly, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “I can see people’s lives. Past, present and future. I can see everyone’s lives, except my own and anyone who is close to me… like someone I know and care about, or even someone I will someday know and care deeply about. And I cannot see your life, and neither can my sisters.”

“Your sisters have this ability too?” Duncan blinks at her, astounded but listening in rapt attention. Lottie takes this as a good sign.

“Yes. Claire sees their birth and childhood. Margot knows when and how they die. I see the lives they lead. I feel that I am a part of their lives, like I’m observing but also guiding as best I can manage, while I’m knitting.”

“While you’re knitting?” Duncan asks, although it comes out like he’s repeating what she just said, like a masculine echo.

“Yes,” she shrugs. “When I knit with the yarn that Claire makes, one which gave her the sight into a soul’s birth and early childhood, I knit together the details of their life. I see it all in my mind while I’m knitting. And I keep going until Margot tells me to stop.”

“Because Margot knows when they’re going to die,” Duncan finishes for her. Lottie is happy that he’s following her, but she wants to give him time to accept this.

“That’s right.”

“That’s amazing!”

“It can be a heavy burden at times.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. But I don’t know how there would be any danger to me, if you can’t see my life, then it will just be like normal…” He squeezes her hand gently again.

“The problem is that when my sisters and I see into their lives, something happens to our eyes. If a normal person sees our eyes, it hurts them. They’re never the same again. It hurts their minds, and they can’t think or express themselves as they once did. It drives them mad…” Lottie begins to cry, and she lets go of his hand.

“When did this happen?” Duncan sounds very concerned but quiet and soothing, as he did inside the café.

“It’s happened periodically throughout my life,” she sniffles, “I thought I could control it at the eye doctor’s appointment and I ended up hurting her. It was horrible. It’s why I don’t like going outside among normal people. It’s why I wear sunglasses all the time, because I never know when it’s going to happen, like it did a few minutes ago.”

“That was the attack you had?”

“Yes. And I cannot bare the thought of hurting you if you accidentally saw my eyes when I was having a vision. That is why you must promise me that you won’t ever look into my eyes, and if I warn you to turn away, please do so without hesitation. I am sorry, but it has to be this way, or we cannot risk having a relationship. I am not an ordinary human being.”

“You certainly are not,” he says in a pleasant, appreciative tone. “I knew you were special, but I just didn’t know all the ways.” Lottie holds one hand to her glasses, still sniffling, but then gives back her hand for him to hold. He feels a slight wetness where she had wiped away a tear on her cheek. “How long have you had this ability, you and your sisters?”

“Forever. Since before I can remember. It’s always been this way,” she says, sighing again, as the tears have stopped.

“So when you said you were old…?”

“I am very, very old,” Lottie says with an odd smirk and takes another sip of her cappuccino.

“Are you immortal?”

“As far as I know,” she says, setting her cup back on the table.

“So when I asked if you had a boyfriend…?”

“I had a man in my life a very long time ago, but we were not careful enough. He didn’t listen when I warned him. I never wanted to hurt anyone ever again. Maybe it’s too dangerous for us to consider this,” she finally blurts out, exasperated.

“No, it’s okay. I think it’s going to be okay. We’ll be very careful. When you knit me a scarf, I’ll wear it over my eyes. It sounds kind of kinky, actually.”

Lottie laughs, and a wave of relief washes over her. He knows, and he’s okay with it. And the idea of a scarf or blindfold around his eyes (or even her eyes) sounds like it could work. She’s felt so lonely, especially the last two nights, ever since bumping into him, and her mind at night would rush on so, giving her imagination total freedom to couple them together. She must let go of her fear and trust that he will be all right.

“By the way, when you knit me a scarf… it’s not going to be someone’s soul, is it?”