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the eight of clubs.
    “No. Sorry, Max.”
    “Okay, okay. Wait a minute.” He rifles through the deck. “Is this your card?”
    The ace of diamonds.
    “No. Sorry.”
    Max frowns. He hands the deck to me. “Guess I’m not having much luck reading your mind. You’re just going to have to show the card to me.”
    I take the deck and look through the cards. The two of hearts isn’t there. I look up at Max. “It’s not in here.”
    Max’s wild eyes are twinkling. He whips his head around to the twelve-year-old at his feet. “Andréa, did you take Daisy’s card?”
    The girl laughs. “No!”
    “I think maybe you did.”
    “I did not!”
    “Then what’s this doing behind your ear, young lady?” And Max reaches down and seemingly pulls a card from behind Maria Andréa’s ear. He shows it to us.
    The two of hearts.
    “Oh!” Rosalina exclaims.
    “How’d you do that?” Andréa’s mouth falls open with amazement.
    “Magic,” Max whispers. He looks almost handsome when he says this. He turns to me and reaches out his hand. I hand his deck back to him.
    “Pretty good, Max.”
    He looks triumphant. “I made it up myself.”
    “How’d he do it, ?” Andréa’s eyes are dancing with curiosity.
    “Magic!” Rosalina says and Max grins.
    I watch him leave. Skinny. Unkempt. Untamed Max. The man Mom dragged here hoping I would fall in love with him. As he walks out of the room I search my mind and heart to see if there is indeed the slightest thread of magic between him and me.
    The slightest thread.
    The mere semblance of what I felt when I was in love with Daniel.
    But there is nothing.
    No magic at all.

Eight
    Dear Harriet,
    Max showed Maria Andréa, Rosalina and me a new card trick today. I have to admit it was a pretty good trick. The look in Andréa’s eyes when he was done was priceless. She was over-the-top impressed. It was like her opinion of him went up several significant notches between the moment he walked in (looking like a victim of electrocution, of course) and the moment he left.
    It made me stop and wonder, as I’ve confessed to you before, if I am missing something. Is it just Mom’s meddling that has Max here, living just one floor away from me? Or is providence at work? Am I suppressing deeper feelings for Max? Feelings that if let loose, would lead me straight to his skinny arms? It sure doesn’t seem like it. There’s just nothing there. Nothing beyond fondness. I like Max like I like Kellen. No, that’s not true. I love Kellen. Brotherly love is not what I feel for Max. It is just simple affection. Definitely not attraction. Besides. It can’t possibly be the will of God that I marry Max. I would forever be known as Daisy Dacey. That would be unthinkable. Even for God.
    Father Laurent had his grandson here for the day. Liam seems like a nice kid, but his mother is something else. I learned today that she divorced Father Laurent’s son last summer, and that she’s the one who did the leaving. I also found out today why I’ve never seen Liam’s father. Ramsey Laurent has been in Tokyo the last four months working on some kind of contract. I feel for Liam. Really, I do. His mother never comes in when Liam visits here. Never. She just drops the kid off at the front of the building. Like she can’t stand the sight of Father Laurent. I asked Father about it today. I know it’s none of my business. But it annoys me that Father Laurent is treated that way. “Does she think you hate her? She must not know you very well if she does,” is what I said. And Father Laurent said, “No. She knows how much I still care for her. As a child of God. That’s what bugs her.”
    Go figure.
    Tonight I watched the first half of Fiddler on the Roof. Had it on my mind today. I fast-forwarded to the wedding scene. You know, the dress is just okay, and Tzietel’s no beauty queen, but I love that part of the movie—up until the Russians invade and spoil everything. I love how Motel and Tzietel love