I began the day with a whopper of a headache: the kind that only two Ever-Ease, the world's favorite pain-reliever and a tall glass of orange juice to wash them down, would dull. I slipped a dollar and a bottle of the precious little pills into my jacket pocket and headed upstairs. A few minutes later, I was startled by someone calling my name across the company cafeteria.

"JAYYYNE!" a familiar voice trilled. "Over here. I simply must speak with you!"

Suppressing a shudder as the synapses of my mind arched in recognition of just who it was, I looked up to see Zoffie Collins beckoning wildly at me from a nearby table. With a sigh of recognition, I purchased a large juice and turned in her direction. I sat across from her and quickly popped the pill bottle from my pocket.

"What's up, Zoffie?" I asked, trying to ignore my pounding head, while I made an unsuccessful attempt to remove the child safety cap.

"It's the Moon," Zoffie whispered urgently. "It's going to be in Capricorn near the end of the week."

Zoffie, our resident amateur astrologer often spoke in this cryptic manner, but having absorbed a little about the subject when it was in fashion a few years ago, I knew enough to understand what she told me. Zoffie prided herself on her uniqueness and unhesitatingly confided to anyone who would listen that her mother had named her after a genuine Gypsy. Nobody was sure, however, just where reality ended and Zoffie's active imagination began.

A large chocolate chip cookie in one hand, Zoffie poured over the little pocket astrological reference book that she always carried. I glanced around the cafeteria, casually, yet carefully.

Lots of people, myself included, sought Zoffie out for counsel when things were awry or puzzling, yet most of us preferred not to be seen openly consulting with her. Somehow, it took away from the professional image that we were all cautioned to affect, by admitting to an interest in "magical thinking."

But I was safe today. No one from the office floors was stirring yet, and the plant employees were already busy at work pounding out those famous little bottles of Ever-Ease. I marshaled my mind to concentrate on what Zoffie was saying, while trying to master the coordination of palming the lid of the bottle and turning it at precisely the same instant. If only my five-year-old niece Sally (short for Sarah) were here, she would have made short work of it.

I looked up to see Zoffie's oversized green eyes fixed on me. Flyaway reddish hair framed her flushed face as she peered intently at me over her drugstore reading glasses.

"That period could be very advantageous for Capricorn's like you," she announced with gusto.

"Like how?" I asked with distracted attention, for at last the cap flew off the bottle, scattering the forest green capsules across the table.

"People will be connecting with you. With support from a favorable aspect of Saturn as well, and with Mars in a trine aspect to your own ascendant..." she stopped and patted my hand with her own chubby paw. "The time could be ripe for you."

"Zoffie, please. In what ways? Personal? Professional?" I had succeeded in returning to the bottle all but two pills, which I quickly washed down with some juice.

"In all ways," she announced solemnly. "Remember two years ago?"

Zoffie was not above trading off her past successes. Of course I remembered that two years ago she had predicted I would be entering a very lucky period for six weeks. During that time, my promotion to the executive ranks had come suddenly when my long-time boss, Mr. Ruthenmyer had died of a heart attack. I'd gotten a small promotion - to do his work, but certainly not at his salary. Zoffie, of course, had taken full credit for the event.

"Can't you be more explicit?" I asked, thinking of my involvement in the events of the up-coming weeks, leading to the one-hundredth anniversary celebration of the introduction of Ever-Ease.

"The stars do not compel; they only impel,:" she intoned mysteriously.

"Does that mean that you won't tell me, or that you don't know?"

"It means that you must seize EVERY opportunity over the next week to gain support." She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Those things that are set in motion during the next few weeks may well change the course of your entire life."

"Right. Then I'd probably better switch to control panty hose," I said.

"Don't joke about this," she warned. "I didn't tell you everything."

"I'm not kidding, I'm sure I'm not getting the support I need," I replied, but one look at her set face chastened me. "So, tell."

"If you don't take advantage of getting the backing you need, well..." her voice retreated into a harsh whisper. "I see a very dangerous situation just ahead for you. You could be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

At this point, I stood up and drained the glass of orange juice. "Well, thanks. I'll really try to watch it. Got to run, see you."

She did not reply, but only shook her head as if to indicate that by having warned me, she had fulfilled her part in my destiny. She returned her concentration to the book and her cookie.

I had to smile. The danger part was a nice touch. As I turned abruptly to place my empty glass on the counter, I nearly stepped on a scruffy pair of Reeboks. I looked up into the surprised face of Derek Martin from the lab. As he moved back to avoid me, his cup made one large wave and sent a stream of coffee down the front of his dusty and wrinkled white lab coat.

"Opps, sorry," I said. "Looks like you'll need a new coat. In fact, it looks like you've already needed one. Don't they wash those for you, or do they just let you scrape them off once a week?" I handed him a paper napkin.

His laugh was good-natured, but somewhat nervous as he pushed the shock of blonde hair off his forehead and out of his eyes before he spoke. His large pale eyes were restless.

"Oh, hi, Jayne." He looked down and mopped at the stain. "I guess I do need a new one. I've just been, uh, real busy lately, and didn't stop to pick one up."

I smiled with indulgence. Derek tended to act like an absent-minded professor, but I thought one had to make allowances for scientific minds like his. He seemed to have a lot of potential. Sometimes I found myself thinking of him as the younger brother I'd never had. We'd chatted over lunch a few times, and he'd shared some of his background with me. Although he'd planned to major in Agriculture and take over the family farm in Nebraska, his parents had been killed by a drunk driver in an auto accident at the start of his junior year at neighboring North Bend College, and the farm was sold.

He'd gotten a job here at Potts Labs through a college contact, and now a little over a year later, he was taking evening classes as he worked toward his degree. We shared a love of animals, and I'd told him about Genevra, my cat. He'd offered to bring me a sample of a catnip strain that he was sure would curb her commando raids on my herb plants.

So far, I was still waiting for it, but then everyone at Potts had been under a lot of pressure lately. The need to put new and improved products on the market to keep up with competition made for extra stress on everyone. From the amount of time and testing it took to get quality control and government clearance, I was sure that Derek, too, was feeling the stress.

Just then, I saw Derek's boss, lab chief Dr. Newton Sizemore motion to him from across the room. Derek spilled his coffee again as he caught his boss's eyes, but finally, he got his cup under control.