“I’m a spinster. I never wanted to be. When I was young, I would fantasize about what my wedding dress would look like. Whenever I would play dolls with my best friend, I always wanted to be the bride. All throughout high school I was boy crazy, with numerous crushes. But I’m also an introvert. Because of this, I never told my crushes how I felt. In my young adult years, a few men did try to court me. Perhaps they took the fact that I occasionally prefer to be alone as a sign that I did not like them. Whatever the reason, those relationships always fizzled out.

I found that I wasn’t very good at maintaining relationships for long periods of time. And that’s how I became a spinster. That’s why I’m here.” Gwen took a deep breath. It felt good to finally get all of that off her chest.

Mavis, the woman Gwen had come to see, paced the length of the massive Persian rug that graced the center of the ornate drawing room. The Persian rug, unlike most of its kind, was not red, but deep blue in color. Flashes of gold thread in the rug matched the gold color of the sofa Gwen was now sitting on. Golden embroidery also glinted on the dark purple robes Mavis wore. The robes billowed around her and framed her emerald green dress as she continued to pace, thinking.

“Sometimes we fall in love with ideas, not people,” Mavis began, “You are prone to daydreaming, and therefore are in love with the idea of being in love. When someone actually shows interest in you, and they do not conform to your daydreams, you are disappointed. Also, self-loathing plays a part in all this. You don’t want anyone to know you have a double standard. You expect nothing short of dreamland perfection from Mr. Right, whom ever he may be, and yet commit many of the bad habits that would you deem as dealbreakers.”

Gwen gaped. How could this woman know more about what she hadn’t said then what she had? It was like she was reading her mind. With a jolt, Gwen remembered Mavis probably could. Mavis was called a prophetess after all. She probably had a third eye of some sort.

“Can you really see everything?“ Gwen asked breathlessly.

“I do not see anything,” Mavis retorted rather hotly, “I’m only particularly proficient in theorizing about all possible outcomes of a certain event. While my predictions are usually quite accurate, there have been times when I have been blindsided by a situation. Time is a unpredictable thing. A series of events may tend and follow a foreseen path and yet one single event can derail the whole thing, taking it in a direction no one thought possible before.”

“But everyone calls you the town prophetess,” stammered Gwen.

“A nickname based on hyperbole,” Mavis replied, raising a dismissive hand, “I’m right about things more often than not and so my predictions have earned rather high respect. When you’re immortal, you learn a thing or two. However, people sometimes forget even I can make mistakes! I’m still human after all! No matter how many times I tell them, but no one ever listens!”

“You’re immortal?” said Gwen, incredulously. She had known almost nothing of the woman when she had arrived that morning. Yet, Gwen was slowly starting to forget her own troubles as she became consumed in curiosity over this exotic woman by the name of Mavis.

“Yes,” Mavis responded with a sigh, “One out of one, I’m afraid. Would not recommend. Not that I really had much choice in the matter anyway.”

“Why did you have no choice in the matter?” Gwen queried.

Mavis stopped her pacing. She gave Gwen a sidelong glance, a playful twinkle now in her eye. “I thought you came here for my help, not my life story.”

Gwen gave an apologetic smile.

Mavis brushed some of her curly, raven locks away from her face and resumed her pacing. “I’ll have Davidson take you to your room. We’ll begin training in the morning and—“

“Training?” Gwen repeated, confused and startled at the same time. She’d only expected Mavis to give her some sort of prediction or anecdote in order to transform her lackluster love-life. She hadn’t packed anything for an extended stay.

Mavis pivoted sharply on her heels to face Gwen, her purple robes twirling. “Yes, training,” she answered as if it was obvious, “If my predictions are correct, you’ll be ready to meet you soulmate by the end of the month.”

“But I didn’t pack any—“ Gwen protested.

“Don’t worry,” Mavis interrupted, “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Couldn’t you just tell me your prediction and then I can go?” Gwen asked softly.

Mavis paused, looking Gwen up and down. “If you don’t want to change, then yes, I can tell you with no training. But then it mostly likely won’t come true. You seem like the kind of person who wants to better themself. If I sense rightly, training is a must. Some people can be changed by a sentence, but you are changed by action. Am I correct?”

Gwen nodded reluctantly. For someone professing to not have any special powers of prophecy, it still seemed Mavis could read her thoughts and, more unsettlingly, her very character.

Satisfied, Mavis moved swiftly to pull a blue tasseled cord on the wall. A second later, the butler entered the room.

“Davidson,” said Mavis, “Take Gwen to the Emerald Guest Suite. She’ll be spending the month with us.”

“Very good, m’lady,” answered Davidson with a bow and a smile.

Gwen had no clue what was in store for her, but allowing the butler to usher her away to her new quarters was one of the best decisions she ever made.