“Dante!” exclaimed the woman named Sandra.
Sandra Santos. Leila was expecting that the woman’s name would be one she’d heard before, but it wasn’t.
Sandra held up her arms to Vernon as if for a hug. Since Ridley was still in Sandra’s way, she simply stood inside the door, looking like someone witnessing a miracle, as Vernon rushed down the spiral staircase.
“For a moment, I thought I was looking at a ghost,” he said. “It’s been how long? Decades! What are you doing here?” He squeezed past the speechless assembly of Misfits and, looking baffled, stood before the woman. Finally—almost reluctantly—he hugged her.
Sandra smiled, squeezing him back. “Oh, I was in town and thought I’d say hello.”
“Shall Houdini confess next, I can find a dozen flying, fake deer!” said Presto again from her perch. All of the Misfits stiffened and groaned.
Vernon smiled at the animal. “Yes. Yes, we know. Aren’t you a fantastical bird?” Presto ruffled her feathers and then closed her eyes. Finally. Vernon placed his palm on Leila’s head. “This is my daughter. Leila.”
“Hello,” Leila said, shaking Sandra’s warm hand.
Sandra squeezed gently. “Nice to meet you.”
Then Vernon touched Carter’s shoulder and brought him forward. “And this handsome lad is my cousin, Carter Locke.”
“Locke?” Sandra asked. “As in…?”
“Lyle’s boy,” said Vernon. “He’s living with us now. Our family has grown by leaps and bounds.” Carter stared at Sandra in wonder. He must’ve been fascinated that she knew his father, Leila thought. “Here is Theo Stein-Meyer and Ridley Larsen. And the sharply dressed duo in the rear are the Golden twins, Olly and Izzy. Good friends, one and all.”
“You knew Carter’s dad?” Leila asked.
“Yes, I did,” said Sandra. “He was like a brother to me.”
“A brother?” Vernon asked with a wry grin. “I’d use a different word for how you two were.”
Sandra chortled. “Oh, Dante! You haven’t changed. Always looking for meaning where there is none!”
“But meaning is everywhere!” Vernon insisted, taking her hands. “I’ve simply trained myself to look for it harder than most.”
Leila bolted around the end of the counter and grabbed a picture frame off the wall. Her friends stared at her as if she’d gone crazy. But she didn’t care. She held out the frame to Sandra. “This is you,” she said, pointing at the girl in the lower right of the sepia photograph. “Isn’t it?” The girl was sitting with Dante, Lyle, Bobby, and the other members of the Emerald Ring—her father’s childhood magical club—the group that had inspired Leila and her friends to form the Magic Misfits. The girl in the photo was holding a crystal ball. It looked just like the crystal ball embroidered on Sandra’s burgundy velvet purse.
Sandra’s mouth popped open when she saw the picture. “Oh my goodness! You’ve kept it all this time, Dante?”
“Of course. I had nothing else to remember you all by. My best friends.” Was there a tinge of emotion in his voice? Wistfulness? Somberness? “There’s nothing like being part of a club.”
“So then, you were also a member of the Emerald Ring?” Theo asked, craning his head forward, seemingly trying to recognize the young girl in the photo inside the older woman standing before them.
“I was indeed.” Sandra nodded, handing the photo back to Leila. “I have fond memories of playing in this old building. The fondest of my childhood.”
“What was Mr. Vernon like back then?” Ridley asked. “Was he as weird as he is now?”
“Weird?” Vernon echoed, shooting Ridley a funny look.
“You are pretty weird, Mr. Vernon,” she insisted. “But that’s what I like about you.”
“Back then, Dante was as weird as weird can be,” said Sandra. “And secretive. So were we all. And we were proud of it.”
Vernon nodded. “That is true, I suppose.”
“What can you tell us about Bobby Bosso?” Theo questioned. “He arrived in Mineral Wells recently, and he was not exactly the nicest—”
Vernon cleared his throat and reached out to shut the shop’s door. “How about we continue this conversation over some iced tea. We have plenty of shortbread cookies to dispose of.”
“That sounds lovely,” said Sandra.
“Carter? Theo? Would you mind bringing up the folding table from the basement? Use the service elevator. We’ll picnic here in the shop,” Mr. Vernon said as he traversed the spiral stairs back up to the balcony and the apartment. “Leila and Ridley, please keep Sandra company.” He pointed at the woman and winked. “And Sandra, you stay right there!”
“Oh, Dante,” she said, giggling, “unlike some members of our old club, I never learned the art of vanishing.”
SIX
While Mr. Vernon prepared refreshments in the apartment, Sandra sat with the Magic Misfits at the small folding table in the back of the shop.
“…and then,” Leila continued, telling the story of the diamond heist at the Grand Oak Resort, “one of Bosso’s goons clobbered my dad over the head! My friends and I knew we had to save him.”
Sandra listened in awe to the rest of the tale, as if she couldn’t believe that two of her childhood friends would become embroiled in such a bitter clash. Finally, she admitted, “Bobby was always a little… difficult.”
“Difficult is an interesting way to describe him,” said Ridley.
“Totally bonkers is another way,” Carter answered.
Theo shook his head in disgust. “Criminal is the best way.”
“He was more crooked than corkscrew pasta!” said Olly.
“You mean fusilli,” Izzy said.
“Gesundheit!” Olly replied. “Speaking of, how does a diamond thief celebrate the Fourth of July?”
“With sparklers!” Izzy answered, with a silly hyuk-hyuk laugh.
Mr. Vernon descended the stairs. He was holding a tray with a pitcher of iced tea, several glasses, and a plate of those shortbread cookies Carter loved to hoard. “Gossiping about me again, kids?”
Carter laughed. “Not you. We were talking about Bosso!”
“In that case, I’d better step up my game! It’s always a trick to be on the tips of everyone’s tongues.” Mr. Vernon set the tray on the table, adding, “Everyone, help yourselves.”
Sandra poured the tea. “Thank you, Dante. You always were the epitome of politeness.”
“So, Sandra,” Mr. Vernon went on, sitting on the arm of the chair where Leila was perched, “what brings you back to Mineral Wells after all these years?”
“Some sad news, actually,” said Sandra, glancing at the kids as if maybe they couldn’t handle it. She decided quickly that they could. “My mother passed away.”
“I remember hearing that some time ago.”
“Yes, it’s been several years,” Sandra went on. “I had a hard time thinking about returning. Too many… ghosts from the past. But Mother left me the old house. You should see the state of it. A total wreck. Boxes everywhere. Layers of dust, inches thick. And quite a few unwanted residents: spiders and flies and mice and snakes. So much work to do. Still, the old house holds a few dear memories—especially those of an old friend who happens to live in the same town. I do apologize for taking so long to visit, but my career has kept me traveling constantly, and I’ve only recently managed to take the time to settle things here.”
“Why do you travel so much?” asked Carter between slurps of iced tea. “Your job, I mean. What do you do?”
“Aha. Well, it just so happens that I’m a stage psychic. I perform in front of huge audiences all around the country.” The Misfits went silent, holding their breath. They stared at Sandra as if she’d just told them that she was the first woman to walk on the moon. “Maybe you’ve heard of me? I go by the name Madame Esmeralda.”
“The Madame Esmeralda?” Theo asked. “I thought you looked familiar. Your posters are in some of the theaters where my father cond
ucts his symphony.”
“I’ve never met a famous person before,” said Carter.
“Famous?” Sandra laughed. “I suppose I am—though only a little bit. It’s a fun job. I get to meet lots of people and see the best sights.”
“I always thought psychic people were a myth,” said Ridley, her brows furrowed. “Are you really psychic, or do you just pretend to be?”
“Ridley!” Leila whispered through her teeth. “That’s not nice!”
“It’s okay, Leila,” said Sandra. “It’s a question that everyone wonders. At least your friend is honest enough to ask. But yes, I read vibrational energies of people, places, and things, and I perceive information about past, present, or even future events.”
“But how?” Ridley pressed. “Do you use tarot cards? Numerology? Astrology? Palmistry?” The other Misfits looked at Ridley as if she was spouting nonsense. She scowled, “What? When I was researching John Nevil Maskelyne, I spent time looking at some of Mr. Vernon’s books about mind-reading here at the shop. There are so many types of psychics: precognitors, who claim to predict the future; telepaths will read your mind; telekinesists move matter with their brains. All quite different. Though most of them are fraudulent.”
Sandra didn’t bat an eye. Instead, she sipped her tea politely.
“How do you identify yourself?” Ridley asked.
“I’m what some would call a clairvoyant,” said Sandra.
“What’s that?” asked Carter.
“It means that I receive little messages about people, and then I let those people know what they need to know.”
Leila flinched. “Little messages? From who?”
“Most clairvoyants would say the messages come directly from a spirit guide,” said Sandra. “The spirit guide whispers secrets in our ears, and we share that information with people who need help.”
“So you talk to ghosts?” Ridley insisted. “Are the ghostly messages real?”
Sandra pursed her lips mysteriously.
Mr. Vernon grabbed the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and used it to dab the corners of his mouth. Then he went to shove the kerchief back into the pocket, but another one had already popped up to take its place. Mr. Vernon pulled that one from the pocket too. And another kerchief appeared. He yanked five more kerchiefs from his jacket, dropping them all into his lap with a baffled look. The kids laughed. “The proof is in the pudding,” Mr. Vernon said finally.
“What’s that mean?” Ridley asked.
“If it looks like pudding and tastes like pudding, it’s likely to be pudding?” Mr. Vernon didn’t seem sure.
“That is not what it means,” Theo said. “The adage means you have to try out a new thing for yourself to know whether you like it or not.”
“That’s not how I understood it,” Carter said. “I thought it meant you could only declare something a success after it has been tried out.”
“I thought it meant ‘Trust me, the pudding is good,’” Leila said.
“Oh, all pudding is good,” said Olly. “Especially chocolate and butterscotch. Yum!”
“But only after Mom removes the gross, leathery skin that forms on top,” added Izzy. “Or else Olly won’t touch it.”
Mr. Vernon laughed. “I guess old sayings are just like magic. It’s all in the interpretations. People take what they want from it.” He scooped up the extra kerchiefs from his lap and bunched them into one fist. With his other hand, he tugged the edge of one until it flopped loosely between his fingers. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he whipped a single kerchief from his fist and held it up. All the other kerchiefs were gone. The Misfits gasped and then chuckled. “Psychics are like magicians, Ridley. It often doesn’t matter whether or not the magician is pretending. What matters is what the audience believes.”
Ridley turned back to Sandra. “So then, to be psychic, you just have to make people believe that you are?”
Sandra’s eyes twinkled. Leila recognized a glimmer of her dad’s own mischief. No wonder they’d been close friends once upon a time. “Something like that,” Sandra answered. With a wry grin, she added, “How do you know I’m not actually psychic, Dante?”
“Are you?” he asked.
She lowered her voice to a spooky cosmic tone and said, “I’ve learned much since we were young.” She raised her hands and wiggled her fingers and moaned, like a ghost, “Ooo-ooo-ooh!”
The others chuckled. “Where are you staying while in Mineral Wells?” Leila asked. “Not in that old, run-down house?”
“Well, I don’t have another option, honey. Not unless Dante is offering.” She flashed him a hopeful glance.
Mr. Vernon flushed. “I wish we could, I really do—”
Leila couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Dad!” It was unlike him to deny someone help, especially an old friend.
Ignoring her outburst, Mr. Vernon went on. “But we no longer have a guest room, and I couldn’t possibly recommend that you bunk on our lumpy couch upstairs. You’d have absolutely no privacy.” He shook his head. “Tell you what, Sandra… I’ll call my partner up at the Grand Oak Resort and see if he can’t arrange for a most extravagant room… just until you’ve made your mother’s place more habitable.”
Sandra couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I’d be most appreciative.”
“Brilliant!” said Mr. Vernon, standing and heading over to the phone. “We’ll set you up at the resort. Then, this evening, you’ll come back and have dinner with all of us.”
“Us too?” asked Theo.
“I’m intrigued to hear more about Sandra’s skills,” said Ridley, raising an eyebrow.
“Alas! I shan’t make it,” Olly said dramatically.
“Yeah, we can’t stay,” Izzy whined. “It’s a Golden family dinner night.”
Ridley pressed the issue. “But the rest of us—”
“Okay, okay.” Mr. Vernon chuckled. “Olly and Izzy, you’ll be sorely missed. But I’ll be sure to ask the Other Mr. Vernon to bring home extra food for everyone else. It’ll be a welcome-home party for Sandra.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Sandra said. “My goodness, how I’ve missed you, Dante. Thank you so much.”
Listening closely, Leila could sense a kind of defeat in Sandra’s voice. For a moment, Leila wondered if she had psychic powers of her own.
SEVEN
Across the street from their home, Leila and Carter sat in the grass under the shade of the gazebo. The park was the perfect place for afternoon practice. Leila pulled a loop of string from her pocket and wrapped it around her wrists, trying to figure out a new way to bind herself without anyone else’s help.
Carter had brought a pack of cards and was practicing shuffling them, making false cuts and fancy flourishes before returning the cards to their original order. He made the cards spring from one hand to the other. He even tried flipping one card behind his head, though he didn’t manage to catch it. When it fell to the grass, his face turned pink with embarrassment.
“Impressive!” said Leila. “You’ve been practicing.”
Carter frowned. “Apparently not hard enough.”
“You’ll get there,” Leila said. After a moment, she added, “Sometimes I wish that I was psychic so I could unlock what’s inside my dad’s head. I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about him.”
“Like what?” Carter asked. He continued making the cards spring back and forth between his hands.
“Like who he was when he was our age. Has he told you much about his relationship with Lyle, your father? They were best friends after all.”
Carter gathered the cards into a single stack. “I wish he’d tell me more. In time, I’m sure he will.”
“I want to know about his old magic club. We’ve already met Bobby Boscowitz. And now Sandra Santos shows up out of the blue. I can’t believe we don’t even know the names of the other members.”
“Have you ever asked him?”
“I only learned about the
Emerald Ring when you came to town. I’m not sure he would have confessed very much if we hadn’t already figured it out for ourselves.”
“Maybe that’s what he wants us to do. Find our own answers. Or maybe he’s embarrassed about his past. I know I was. Why do you think I kept secrets when I first met you?”
“Hmm, maybe,” Leila said, unsure.
“If you were psychic,” said Carter, “what would you want to know?”
“I’d want to know that the Magic Misfits won’t end up like the Emerald Ring. I’d like to believe that the six of us will never have a falling-out.” She thought of the girls who’d been so cruel to her at Mother Margaret’s Home. She tried not to cringe. “I hope… I hope we’ll always be friends.”
Carter rubbed his temples. “I predict… that will totally happen!”
Leila smiled. “I’d also want to look into the past. I’d find out why Bobby Boscowitz turned into B. B. Bosso. And I’d learn how come Sandra and my dad weren’t in touch all these years. Don’t you think it’s weird?”
Carter nodded. “Maybe they all just kinda grew apart. Sometimes things happen that we can’t control. I mean, my dad ended up far away from Mineral Wells. He left the Emerald Ring behind, but I’ll bet he never forgot about them. Me? If I were psychic, I’d want to know what happened to my parents.”
“Maybe there’s a way to figure out all these things without having strange mental powers.”
“That would be brilliant.” Carter smiled. “I’ll help you if you help me.”
“Deal!”
“Want to head back inside?” asked Leila. “Poppa will be home from work soon. And I want to clean up before everyone else arrives. Do you think I should wear my straitjacket to dinner?”
Carter laughed. “How will you eat with your arms bound?”
“I’ll figure out a way. Maybe I can incorporate it into my act.”
As the pair crossed the grass near the gazebo, a loud screech startled them. They froze. It had come from the shadowy space underneath the gazebo. Eyes wide, Carter asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Leila held her breath. “If I am, does it mean I’m psychic?”