Was somebody smoking in here? She could smell something burning.

From somewhere came the crash of shattering dishes and she heard people screaming. It stole her attention. She looked and nearly lost hold, wobbling in midair like a beginner on skates, dropping several inches until she grabbed hold again. Concentrate! Stay with it!

Corporal James Dose was standing, raising a glass of wine for a toast when his shoulder exploded, spattering blood on the restaurant table, his father, his mother, and his new fiancée. He lurched forward and fell across the table, scattering dishes, splattering food, smashing the centerpiece. The restaurant erupted in screams and panic. Patrons dropped to the floor and cowered under chairs and tables. Heads spun, waiters scrambled, the hostess got on the phone as she crouched behind her desk. Where is the shooter?everyone wondered. Where is the shooter?

chapter

17

Miss Eloise Kramer, may I present Mr. Dane Collins.”

“Hello.” She managed to get that much out as they shook hands and settled into their chairs. Her hands were visibly shaking and she knew her face was flushed. She’d come in for a soft landing, but inside she was still flying, her mind like a picture book in a strong wind, and now she was face-to-face with … well, she couldn’t explain it, but he was more than just the man sitting at the table across from her. She couldn’t help but stare at him, which had to be okay because he was sure staring at her.

Well, Dane, you’d better say something.“That was quite a performance.”

“Whoa, thank you, thank you!” She looked at her hand. “Whoo! I’m still shaking!”

From across the room the impression, the illusion, the … okay, the delusion … was somewhat deniable. He could attribute it to the lighting in the room, the distance, perhaps his age, his eyes, the tendency of young girls to sound alike when excited, all the details his mind could have altered to match the template in his memory. But close up, right across the table, the sound of her voice, the laughter in her eyes, the funny expressions …

There must have been too long a silence. Arnie piped up, “I was … um … I was here yesterday, as you know, and I saw your performance then, and I thought—no, I knew—that Mr. Collins would be interested in meeting you.” Now Arnie looked at him, a clear and forceful cue.

The hobo makeup and outfit gave him room to imagine this girl as the one he first saw at the Spokane fair with long, blond tresses floating in the breeze, the quintessential surfer girl/farmer’s daughter/flower child. He could see this girl dressed in that girl’s blouse and jeans and, oh, yes, the ankle bracelet with two silver doves worn over her white crew sock. It looked a little goofy on that day, but he loved it about her and forty years later she was wearing it again … on the day he lost her.

Arnie was staring at him.

“Umm …” He had to clear his throat. “That’s an interesting name, uh, Eloise Kramer.”

Her eyebrows perked up and her eyes widened into that sweet, innocent look he’d enjoyed every time he saw it. “Really?”

“The, umm, the … well, you have a very unique approach.”

Weird feeling. Like she’d hit a nice grounder into left field, had rounded first, and this guy, this Dane Collins, was second base. Safe! That’s what she’d be if she could only get there. “Thanks for all that great advice.”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, sure thing. It was pretty cold out there.”

“Yeah. Sure was. And thanks again for the hat and sweater.”

“It was a … it was a good meeting we had.”

What was it about this guy that was so … stable, like a rock in a river? She wanted to come right out and ask him, Do you know Arthur Whitacre? Have you ever been to the Wooly Acres Ranch? Are you really sitting there or are you just another delusion from a past I never had, or did I really have it? Just what is the connection here?

The only question she could think of built up inside her and she blurted out, “Who are you, anyway?”

Wild. He didn’t seem to know.

“I’m …” Was?“I’m in … I was in … show business. I was a professional magician and producer.”

Arnie piped up again. “He’s on hiatus from the stage now, but thinking he’d like to do some producing, maybe some managing, you know, develop new talent.”

Her eyes brightened at that. “Oh! And here you are, talking to me.”

“That’s right,” said Arnie, who looked at Dane again.

Here I am, talking to you.

Dane wanted to talk to her, talk withher, stay right there and talk about magic, performance, the heart of it all. They could go on to talk about life with its turns, twists, ups, and downs and laugh at how events could turn in such unbelievable ways. Her eyes would sparkle the way he’d grown to love, her smile would shatter his fears and self-doubts, her voice … well, he’d be able to hear it again. He’d sit here all night just for that.

Oh, brother.He broke his gaze and let his eyes sink to the table, his brow resting on his interlaced fingers. Dane, you are one sick individual.

He looked up. She was hanging on the edge, hungry for his next utterance. “But … I’m sorry.”

She looked at him blankly. So did Arnie.

“I … I think you have a real talent and you’ll go a long way, but I … I just can’t participate in your career. Keep going, kid, you’re going to do great.” He rose, grabbed his coat.

Oh, the tragedy in her eyes! The letdown! He couldn’t look at her.

Arnie was aghast. He was showing it with everything he had.

“We have to go,” Dane told him, and didn’t wait for an answer. He just headed for the door.

Arnie wanted to talk, of course, but Dane just kept walking, getting some city blocks between them and that girl.

“I absolutely cannot believe what I just saw back there! That, that was the most astounding talent, the best fertile soil for development, the best business opportunity you could have asked for. Dane, stop and talk to me!”

They were almost to the car. He felt safe enough, so he stopped. “Eloise Kramer.”

Arnie just stared at him. “What?”

“Eloise was Mandy’s middle name, remember? She was named after her mother, Eloise, and Kramer was her mother’s maiden name. She’s named herself after her mother, or Mandy’s mother, or, or something!”

Arnie’s jaw dropped, his hands raised. He was at a total loss. “Are you nuts?”

Dane started walking again. “Yeah, yeah, I think I am.” He stopped walking and went nose-to-nose with his manager. “You didn’t see that back there?”

“See what?”

He looked at Arnie just long enough to know he was going to get nowhere and kept walking. “No, I suppose not.”

Arnie stayed right on his heels, then alongside, pushing himself, almost loping to keep up. “Hey, come on, cut me some slack here.”

Dane halted and got in Arnie’s face again. “You saw it! You saw who she looks like.”

Arnie must have understood. He grimaced as he looked away, searching the dark night for a glimmer of sanity in this nutty world.

“Yeah, deny it.”

Dane tried to keep walking, but Arnie headed him off. “All right, all right. I saw … I saw a kind of resemblance, sure. But is that the girl’s fault? Is it?”

“Who’s blaming her?”

Arnie looked up and down the street for his next thought. He found it. “All right, listen, you’ve suffered a great loss. I understand, I respect that, I feel for you. But I’m not responsible for who you think the girl looks like or how you feel about it—and let me tell you something, neither is she! No matter how you try to justify it, that was rude back there! It was thoughtless and it was mean and that poor girl did notdeserve one bit of it. What does she know about your grief? Why make her suffer for it? She worked hard, she put it all on the line, she totally wowed that audience, and you just threw her on the floor! It was a bad move! Badmove! And let me tell you something else, Mr. Big Shot with a screw loose, somebody’sgonna sign that girl and it could’ve been you! Heck, I’llsign her!”