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approval.
    Max, another tenant, bursts into the room with a deck of cards in his hands. “I want to try this new trick out on you!”
    He is breathless and looks like he just got up.
    Max always looks like he just got up.
    Max.
    There is really only one reason why my old friend Max is renting one of the apartments above Something Blue.
    Because my mother and L’Raine talked him into it.
    Think Yenta from Fiddler on the Roof. Times two.
    I’ve known Max Dacey since high school. He was in the theater group with me and we had a lot of the same friends, including my best friend Shelby Kovatch. He has never been a love interest of mine, nor have I been one of his. I like Max. But I don’t have romantic feelings for him. I never have. And whenever I think of Reuben I’m glad Max has never had any for me. Max is tall, very thin, likes to keep his curly hair wild and feral-like and he loves sleight of hand. He’s been doing magic shows for five-year-olds’ birthday parties since he was twelve. Max wants to be a career magician—has forever wanted to be a career magician—but his parents have always been able to talk him into staying in the family photography business. I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Dacey have ever been able to picture Max making a living changing the ace of spades into the queen of hearts. And actually Max is a very good photographer. But it’s not what he loves. He loves illusion.
    When I began to look for tenants for the apartments back in November, I was very selective. I wanted to have the tenants lined up before the units were even ready so that I wouldn’t have to advertise. There are only ten apartments, and I filled them the first week I agreed to manage the building. One apartment for me, one for alterations, one each for Mom and L’Raine, one for Rosalina and Mario—I knew with Rosalina’s skill as a seamstress and Mario’s as a handyman, managing the building and selling the dresses would be a breeze—and one for Reuben who wanted to have an apartment available for when he comes to the Twin Cities. My wonderful Father Laurent, who was retiring and looking for a new home, was recommended by a couple at my church, as were Wendy and Philip, who live across from Father Laurent on the third floor. About that same time, a retired violinist named Solomon Gruder, who was my dad’s friend from his days with the Minneapolis Symphony, was looking to sell his house and move into an apartment. After those arrangements, then there was just the one unit left. Mom called the Daceys without asking me first and asked if Max was still looking to move out on his own. Yes, he was twenty-nine and still living at home. The Daceys were pretty pleased to have Max out of the house but not out of the business and to have an “in” with future brides with future photography needs. Max arrived two days before Christmas with a strange collection of furniture, a thousand decks of cards—or so it seemed—and beautifully-framed portraits of Dacey Photography Studio brides which he hung on the walls of the soon-to-be-opened Something Blue.
    I don’t mind having Max here. But Mom and L’Raine need to look for someone else to fix Max up with. We’re just friends. We’re only friends.
    Max now holds a fanned deck of cards in front of me. “Pick a card.”
    “Max.”
    “C’mon. You’re not doing anything important.”
    I reach out and choose a card. It’s the two of hearts.
    “Don’t let me see it but show it to Maria Andréa and Rosalina.”
    I obey.
    “Okay. Now put it back.”
    Again, I obey.
    Max folds the cards into his hand and shuffles the deck. “Now I want to concentrate on your card. Think only about your card. Picture it in your head in this deck. I’m going to read your mind.”
    I can’t help but smile.
    “You’re not concentrating, are you?” He says this slyly, still shuffling the deck.
    “Yes, I am.” The two of hearts is now dancing inside my head.
    “Is this your card?” He holds up