Janey nodded to the stranger to show no hard feelings, but the stunning woman continued.
“Would you like to share a bit of my matcha powder for your juice? I took out too much and once you expose it to the air it begins to lose potency. I always drink it around this time of day to calm my monkey mind. I’m Stella by the way.” She stretched a slender palm toward Janey but didn’t stop at her hand, instead grasping her forearm.
“Strong pulse. A lot of life in there.”
Janey couldn’t help but smile at her before she tried to guess the woman’s age. But for the first time in a long time she had no clue. Stella had the ageless face of a Ralph Lauren model, glowing, unlined, and seemingly airbrushed. In one ear hung a beautiful turquoise peacock feather that implied a certain whimsical youth, but other than that Janey couldn’t tell if she was twenty-five or fifty.
“Do I look like I have a monkey mind that needs calming?”
“Yes,” Stella replied matter-of-factly, rummaging around in a leather satchel for her wallet.
“Hi, Stella.”
The girl behind the counter lit up. “I just read your latest blog post about harnessing the power of the new moon this month. So, so good. I sent it to everyone I know. And I took your quiz to find out my spirit animal. I’m a turtle. Do you want the usual?”
Stella nodded serenely. “I’m also going to get some of the yummy bee pollen and sit for a few minutes.” She looked at Janey. “Have you had bee pollen? It’s just the perfect everyday superfood!”
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Janey was in absolutely no rush. No husband. No job. No email to check. Boo Radley didn’t even need walking. After wearing her busyness like a shield for so long, it was strange to admit she had all the time in the world.
“I’ll join you.” What did she have to lose? The two women migrated toward two empty bales of hay. The seat felt scratchy through Janey’s thin cotton workout pants.
“Tell me your journey,” Stella said, stirring a fine green powder that Janey assumed was the monkey-mind-calming matcha into both of their green juices.
There was something about Stella that was so peaceful and so compelling Janey suddenly felt like spilling everything: her anxiety over her career, her split with Beau, her nightly dreams about publicly humiliating Beau, her guilt at being a forty-year-old woman who didn’t want kids or a husband.
“I feel like we’ve met before? What do you do? Are you in fashion?”
“We don’t know each other yet. You can call me a healer or an intuitive. I’ve been called a shaman. I prefer alchemist, but no one understands what that means.” She shrugged, her cascade of long hair moving in a ripple around her face. “I know things. And I help people.”
Shaman? Seriously? Janey had a tendency to shudder at things her father would have referred to as “new agey hippie bullshit,” and it wasn’t a career choice you heard every day. It had the ring of “poet” or “adventurer,” careers that rich kids with trust funds chose in order to avoid telling people they were actually unemployed.
“How do you become a shaman?” Janey was genuinely curious.
Stella lowered her voice. In whisper form it became even more husky and seductive.
“When you’re eight years old you’re taken away from your family and left out in the wilderness. After three days with no food or water you turn into a glorious bird with large wings and fly up above the land, shedding all of the trappings of the earth. When you return, naked as a baby, you begin your training.”
“Really?” Janey felt herself starting to lean away from Stella, carefully reaching for her handbag to make a quick exit if necessary.
“No, that’s a shaman joke. I grew up here. On the Upper East Side, started modeling when I was sixteen. I went for a shoot in the Peruvian Amazon, fell madly in love with the local shaman, the medicine man from an ancient Incan tribe. He taught me everything he knew and then he disappeared. Maybe he turned into a bird. Kidding! I’ve been traveling around the world as a healer ever since. I like marrying science with the spiritual. That’s why I love this place. I feel like they’re channeling the spirit of Maimonides into their juice! How about you? Wait! Don’t tell me. Can I read your palm first?”
Janey raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Stella’s touch once again sent a tingle down Janey’s spine as she grabbed her left hand in her right one. “Please. I’m still learning from this incredible astrologer and palm reader from Nepal.”
Oh, what could it hurt. “Go ahead.”
The woman began tracing the lines of Janey’s palm with her index finger. It tickled and felt almost sensual. “What an amazing life line. This goes on forever. You are going to accomplish so much.” Janey tried to keep her amusement and skepticism off her face as the shaman looked up at her. “You’re so young. But this tells me you’ve already had two marriages. Both finished?”
A shadow of concern crossed Stella’s face as Janey snatched her hand back.
“I’m sorry. Too personal?” Stella apologized with genuine sorrow.
Janey shook her head. “Just one marriage.” Unless you count Beau, she thought to herself. But that was just ridiculous. “And yes. It ended last year. We’re in the middle of finalizing the divorce.”
“Ugh. Awful. Sorry again. How about we try this the normal way.” Stella let go of her hand, but the warmth of her touch remained in Janey’s palm. “So what do you do?”
Janey chose her words carefully. “I work in the wedding dress business, on the finance and marketing side. I recently decided to take some time off. I’ve been working nonstop for more than fifteen years.”
Stella leaned in to listen to her. “Burnout is a real thing, love. I get it. The Internet is frying our brains. I only allow myself online for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon. And can I tell you a secret?”
“Tell me.”
“I get just as much accomplished as the days I used to spend staring into the abyss of my laptop. You’re not alone. Everyone I know who takes time off ends up with grand intentions to write the great American novel or take a yoga teacher training class, but most of them just binge-watch Netflix or get pregnant.”
“I’m getting in shape,” Janey lied carefully. “I’ve been working out a lot.”
“Great. Have you tried The Workout?”
“Which workout?”
“The Workout.”
“Which one?”
“Sorry. No. It’s just called ‘The Workout.’ A client of mine started it. Very hush-hush actually. Invite only, but, pardon my presumption, you look like the kind of girl who could probably get herself an invite.”
Janey was sure this was something CJ could tell her about later. “What is it?”
“It’s everything and it’s nothing. It’s the best workout you’ll ever have and it’s not a workout at all.”