Arnie was talking. Dane caught the tail end: “… I like what I saw and I’m not saying she’s the best thing since sliced bread. I’m just saying you might find her interesting. She might spark some ideas, that’s all.”

Dane found himself nodding in agreement and made it a point to relax. Why not enjoy the evening, have some fun? He scanned the big chalkboard. “So let’s get some coffee.”

Seven o’clock. The lights blinked and the restaurant clamor quieted to murmured phrases, the distinguishable tinkling of spoons, the occasional creak of a wooden chair. Dane and Arnie craned like everyone else, watching that center floor, scanning around the room, wondering where the magician would make her entrance. In the lull, the girl named Megan made one final dash across the floor to bring someone their order just as the guy named Myron, having served a table, was heading back. They passed each other in the center of the floor, Megan obscuring Myron from view on one side, Myron obscuring Megan from view on the other, for an instant. When they continued on, reopening a gap between them, music started, jazzy and rhythmic, and …

There was the Hobett, spinning into place, then moving to the music, worn old hat on her head, hands in the pockets of her oversize, trampish coat, and a teasing, mischievous look on her face. She danced lithely into a bow to half of the house, then the other half, sweeping her hat in front of her.

It was a great opening, something Dane wasn’t expecting. He shot a quick glance at Arnie, who raised an eyebrow back at him.

The magician produced a bright yellow tennis ball from her empty hand, got it bouncing, and jazz-danced with it in a dazzling display of technical polish and energy, legs, arms, and coattails flying as the ball, seemingly with a mind and energy of its own, bounced, veered, rolled, and rebounded along with her. Every eye in the place was glued on her, incredulous.

Invisible thread,Dane thought, though how she managed to avoid tangles and breakage with all that movement was uncanny. She must have perfected a way to attach and reattach, or maybe she had a spring-loaded reel under her coat. Or maybe there was more than one ball and she was vanishing one while producing another to direct the bouncing. A gyro? A system of magnets? This routine had to have taken months to perfect.

This couldn’t be the Gypsy.

The dance number ended as she caught the tennis ball in her hat, plopped the hat back on her head, and froze in a closing ta-da! position, all in one smooth move.

Dane broke into applause along with everyone else. He could feel Arnie looking at him, rubbing it in with his silence.

She went into flourishes with silver dollars and cards, producing, vanishing, transferring, yakking it up with the audience, and making instant friends with her charm. When she did the Rainbow Bridge with the cards, Dane held his breath with everyone else. He’d seen that kind of energy produced with cards, but never that degree of control.

Then Megan, working behind the counter, held up a coffee cup.

“Oh, what’s that?” the magician asked Megan.

Megan replied, “Venti triple-shot Caffè Americano.”

Hobett stared blankly. “Huh?”

“Coffee.”

“Oh, whose is it?” A man in the corner raised his hand.

“Oh, far out!”

Far out?

“Hi, you’ve been here before, haven’t you? What’s your name?”

“Clarence.”

“Boy, you like drinks with long names, dontcha? Tell you what, lemme send it to ya. Just stand right there.” She pointed toward the end of the counter. The folks were snickering already. She grinned mischievously. “I wouldn’t do that!”

Clarence weaved through the tables and stood at one end of the counter. Eloise Kramer stood at the other end and set the twenty-ounce cup on the counter. She extended her palms toward it, waving a bit, a magician’s gesture. “Okay, now everybody tell it to move. Say ‘Mooove!’”

The whole crowd called out “Mooove!”They sounded like a herd of cows.

The cup began to slide along the counter, slowly at first.

“Say ‘Mooove!’”

“Mooove!”

“Oh-oh.”

Too fast. That cup was sure to fly right off the end of the counter. Clarence ducked aside.

“Stop!” the magician pleaded.

It lurched to a halt right in front of Clarence.

Magnet under the counter, Dane thought. Megan or Myron or some other stooge was making that cup move from below. Now we’ll see how she palms the magnet under the cup.

The magician was moving along the counter but didn’t get to the cup before Clarence picked it up and one big unified gasp filled the room.

The cup came up empty in his hand. The twenty ounces of triple-shot Caffè Americano remained on the counter, the hot brown liquid suspended in the shape of the cup.

“Oops, sorry!”

Bowing in apology, looking sheepish, playing it for astounded laughs, the girl took the empty cup from Clarence’s hand and carefully aligned it around the coffee again. She lifted the cup from the counter intact, the coffee contained inside, and handed it to Clarence as the house went nuts. Fantastic illusion, and Dane was so captivated by the stand-alone coffee he forgot to watch for her palming the magnet.

Clarence hardly smiled at all as he walked back to his table. Kind of a rough-looking character anyway. His face was deep-featured and pockmarked, as if he’d just taken a nap on a bed of pea gravel.

Then she started spinning quarters and perching them on spectators’ fingertips, and Arnie leaned in and said only, “Heh?” and Dane had to lean back and say, “I haven’t a clue.”

And with that admission, she had him. The skeptic in Dane had fallen away and now he was watching her with different eyes, almost laughing at himself. Forty years in the business, working with the best, designing and performing hundreds of illusions, and here he was, of all people, caught up in the magic.

And for another surprise, even though the illusions were uncanny, the thing he liked most was this magician’s performance. She wasthe magic, playfully immersed in everything that happened. When she kept losing the toss of the coin he could read the mischief in her face. When she produced the driver’s license in the box made of cards, the enchantment in her eyes drew his attention away from the cards and her right hand—had she flashed a sleight or botched a pass he wouldn’t have noticed and he wouldn’t have cared. Her eyes were playful, then teasing, then full of wonder like a child holding a butterfly… .

And then it struck him. That was it: wonder. This young girl was as fascinated and awestruck by her magic as her audience, and her wonder was infectious, so infectious that …

Well.She wasa magician. She’d gotten around his guard, slipped by his critical eye, and taken hold of his heart. He not only appreciated her skill, he also was rooting for her, longing for her to do well. Come on, kid, pull it off, don’t blow it. Win the crowd! Love what you’re doing and they’ll love you. Don’t lose the wonder.

His stomach tightened. Don’t lose the wonder.Mandy always said that. “Hey, great illusion, but where’s the wonder?” “Don’t scare them, make them wonder.” “Hey kids, I bet you’ve never seen anything like this before!” “Wow, it feels like something God would have done.”

Mandy’s love of wonder was a treasure sequestered in his heart and memory until at this moment, in this girl, he could see, feel, live it again.

And oh, how he missed it.

His eyes grew wet, his vision blurred. Oh, brother, he hadn’t planned on this. He blinked and wiped his eyes. Be professional, Dane!He cleared his mind, put on his best objective face, tried to kid himself and everybody else.

And then she looked at him.

… keep a clear mind … objective …