The Setup - Softcover

Dent, Lizzy

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593422066 ISBN 13: 9780593422069

Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2022

Inhaltsangabe

From the author of The Summer Job comes a laugh-out-loud, heartwarming story about one woman’s impulsive fib that jump starts a summer of reinvention and learning about love, life, and what it means to accept yourself.

She has a plan. Fate has other ideas.

The last place very average thirty-one-year-old Mara Williams thought she’d be is on a solo vacation impersonating her fortune teller when she finally meets the one. Josef, a gorgeous Austrian cellist, sits down for a reading and before she knows it, she’s telling him his destiny will be sitting in a pub in the English seaside town of Broadgate on the last Friday of August. And her name is Mara.
 
Enter Project Mara: three months to turn herself into the stylish, confident woman she’s always hoped to be. Meanwhile, the crumbling, formerly glamorous beachside pool club where she works is under threat and her eccentric colleagues enlist her help to save it, just as a handsome new housemate casts doubts on her ideas about “the one.” Can Mara pull off the transformation of a lifetime? And by summer’s end, will she know who is her destiny?

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Lizzy Dent (mis)spent her early twenties working in Scotland in hospitality. After years travelling the world making Music TV for MTV and Channel 4, and creating digital content for Cartoon Network, the BBC and ITV, she wrote three Young Adult novels as Rebecca Denton published in the UK. The Summer Job was her debut adult novel. Now in her late thirties she lives among London, Austria, and New Zealand with her young family.
 

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1

Budapest

Szia," says a woman with a throaty Hungarian accent.

"Hiya," I say as I push the fringed bloodred velvet curtains aside. The room is dark, filled with strung beads, rich blue fairy lights, and candles. I feel a thrill coursing through my veins as I move toward the small wooden table in the center of the room. I can't believe I'm about to have my fortune read by a proper clairvoyant.

I touch the red velvet tablecloth and peer at the worn deck of tarot cards and an almost burned-out candle in one of those bronze candleholders with the finger hole.

"Tarot or palm?" my fortune-teller asks, her back to me as she lights another candle. The golden glow around her adds to the mystique.

"Umm . . . palm," I say hesitantly, "if that's okay? There's always a risk of death with the cards, isn't there."

"Death," she whispers, "death can sometimes mean rebirth."

And then she slowly turns to profile and I see the most, and I mean the most, enormous, bulging baby bump.

I gasp.

"Oh yes. I see! Rebirth, because . . . because you're . . ." I flap a hand in the direction of her belly and then I giggle, but it's a nervous giggle. "Do you need a hand?"

"No," she snaps as she struggles toward me. As I wait the long moments it takes for her to make her way to the table, I note the purple satin and gold lace enshrouding her, the thin gold chains around her neck, and wrists full of jangling bangles. Her face is obscured by the fall of a net veil, and I can just make out thick black eye makeup, the flash of gold hoop earrings, and not much else.

"Ten thousand forint for a full profile, which includes relationships, fortune, and . . . love."

"Yes! A full profile!" I nearly shout it, my heart thumping almost loudly enough for me to hear it over the Eastern European folk music plucking away in the background.

"Sit," she commands.

As I slide onto the little brown stool, she stops moving suddenly, her breath quickening. She is still for a moment, her shrouded face tilting up to the ceiling, then a moment later she seems to visibly relax. Is reading my fortune causing her discomfort? What does that mean? Is my energy strong? Am I vibrating? I look down at my trembling hands.

"Sit," she says even more sharply.

"I'm sitting, I'm sitting," I say as she finally breathes out and moves toward the table. "Are you . . . okay?"

"Full profile, you said? Pass me your hand."

I reach across and lay my hand in hers, palm facing up. Her fingers are clammy and warm.

"Are you ready?"

I feel almost giddy with excitement. "Oh yes," I say as I straighten myself up. "I should tell you, I'm kind of an amateur astrology enthusiast. I'm a Sagittarius, by the way, Aquarius rising." I cannot believe I stumbled upon this place. It feels like I was meant to be here.

Maybe after this the road ahead will no longer be an endless, nerve-racking mystery, but rather a future to be moved toward. A future I can believe in. Oh, my heart sighs, the quiet peace in that.

There is a moment of silence before she turns her head down to inspect my palm.

"What is your name?"

"Mara."

"And where are you from, Mara?"

"England," I say brightly, and then: "Technically I'm from a small town just north of Newcastle on the Scottish border, but I'd need to get out a map-"

"Well, Mara," she interrupts, "this is your lifeline. There is a very long line here, long and unbroken. Very general, nothing of note. Some signs of trauma here, but since then, very plain and unremarkable."

I hold my tongue. Plain and unremarkable. I already know that. I'd tried and failed to stand out from the crowd, and so I have found it safer to stay in the shadows. I don't need to hear where I am now; I want to know where I'm going to be next. I need her to confirm what I feel in my bones: that something big is coming.

"Are you here on holiday?"

"Yes," I say. "I was supposed to be here with my best friend. Her first 'post-baby' getaway, but she pulled out because, well . . . babies are a lot of work." And then I glance down at her belly and swiftly add, "I'm sure you'll be absolutely smashing at it, though. Nothing to worry about. I suppose you already know that, being a clairvoyant-"

"Shhh," she hisses. She seems uncomfortable, I notice, as she moves slightly in the seat.

"Sorry," I say meekly. Shut up, Mara.

"Although your life is small, you seek adventure," she continues.

I frown. This was true once, as an eighteen-year-old leaving home with two suitcases and a head full of dreams. Now? I am not so sure. If there's still a part of me that is adventurous, it's only a whisper. So quiet, I almost can't believe it was ever there.

This long weekend away with my best friend was supposed to be an adventure. Charlie, a seasoned globe-trotter, chose Budapest because it was the coolest destination on the planet. Hip new cafés, famous "ruin bars" built into the shells of crumbling buildings; it was the European creative, fashion, and art community's new industrious home. She sold it to me hard. Then Charlie pulled out abruptly. She was stressed about leaving baby Sophie, who'd had a fever two nights running, and she called me as I was trying to make every clothing possibility fit into a tiny hand-luggage-only backpack. It was a mere sixteen hours before the flight. It wasn't the first time she'd canceled on me since becoming a mum, but I was so sure this trip was actually going to happen. Charlie and Mara: the Flirty Thirties. The brilliant sequel to our Tipsy Twenties. Charlie's return to the world. The long-anticipated reboot to our friendship. I was so deflated I cried. Then she cried and apologized, and I felt guilty for crying. And then, to alleviate my guilt, I put on the bravest brave face I could, and told her I would go anyway, have a fantastic time, and she shouldn't worry at all.

"It will be good for you, Mara," she'd said.

But I've struggled for two straight days. Charlie prepaid for this incredible hotel in the heart of Terézváros, the very coolest district in the city. The Stories Hotel has an enormous glass-ceilinged atrium filled with huge plants, trees, and hanging vines where you could sit for a cocktail or breakfast. My hotel room was also enormous, with dark-plum walls and mid-century styling, an actual record player, and a minibar with full 750-milliliter bottles of tequila, and there was a roaming bartender who could come to your door to shake you a margarita at 2 a.m., apparently. If ever a room was there to remind you that you were traveling alone, it was this room. Every time I looked across at the two ornate champagne coupes atop the bar, I plunged into a renewed sulk.

I'd ventured out only to eat, peruse a few shops, and scurry back to the comfort of my room and superfast Wi-Fi. On the second night I even messed up the sheets on the other bed just so I didn't feel so alone. I made one trip to a nearby hotel with a famous Turkish spa in the basement. When I emerged from the wellness elevator I saw a fully naked man in his eighties, casually leaning against a stone pillar, his squat penis just dangling there. I stayed perfectly still and waited for the doors to close before I breathed out. Screw that for a holiday activity. Besides, there was a bath in my room.

But I was here now, with this woman, this clairvoyant. I'd taken a wrong turn and, as fate would have it, stumbled upon this little shop. And, I hoped now, my future.

"I'd like to have more adventures," I offer my fortune-teller. At least that was true. "Just, like, with someone, you know?"

She nods.

"Here, your fate line; this break here means a change of career. Do you like your career?"

"Career?" I consider...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2022
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593422066
• ISBN 13: 9780593422069
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 368
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Buchpark GmbH; gpsr@buchpark.de; ; Krügerweg 1; Trebbin; Brandenburg; 14959; Deutschland