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skeptic, come to catch us out. My mother ignores it. She’s already chosen the grief-stricken mother as her target and nothing can stop her now. Mrs. Carmichael has both money and sorrow, two things that make her the perfect mark. The other three clients are superfluous. The society couple may bring their friends back for a lark, but the old woman will be returning, her pocketbook wide open—my mother will see to it.
    I finish lighting the candles and await her instructions.
    “Bring me the Ouija board, darling.”
    I relax slightly. Good. Maybe she won’t use the spirit cabinet tonight. It’s our most impressive act, but also the most dangerous, as those who know how the cabinet works can easily expose it by uncovering the hidden compartments. The Ouija board, on the other hand, is simple. My mother is so skilled that no one ever figures out that she’s the one manipulating the planchette.
    Jack Gaylord is finally roused out of his indifference. “Is this what we paid good money for? Parlor games? What kind of tricks are you up to, Madame Van Housen?”
    My mother draws herself up and glares at him. “If you would like to run the séance, Mr. Gaylord, please, be my guest. I often start with the board in order to lure out the spirits, who are shy, especially among skeptics.” Gone is her mournful voice, replaced with a commandeering tone worthy of a queen. Mother is the master of a thousand voices, and she uses each one with the skill of a butcher wielding a knife.
    There’s a moment’s silence before Mrs. Gaylord stirs fretfully by his side. “Oh, Jack, really. Just let her get on with it. You’re ruining all my fun.”
    His upper lip curls as he waves a hand, and, with a hidden roll of my eyes, I continue setting up the board my mother had imported from London. The teak wood gleams in the candlelight, and the bone pointer feels hard and smooth. It buzzes lightly in my fingers, as it never does for my mother. I know because I asked her once as a child what made it vibrate. Her confusion made my stomach hurt, and I remember laughing it off. I never mentioned it again.
    I place the planchette on the board with a slight grimace. Though my mother has often asked me to participate in the game, I’ve always refused.
    I walk over to the hall and switch off the last lamp, marveling once again that we now live in a home with electricity, even if it is courtesy of my mother’s smarmy manager.
    “First, we join hands.”
    “Isn’t your daughter going to join us?” Cole asks, his eyes on me.
    “No. Her job is to keep me safe as I open myself up to the spirits.”
    The corner of his lips twitch, and I shiver at the perceptive glance he sends me. Why do I get the feeling that he knows more about me than I want him to?
    “But my dear madam, I insist. It will help calm my mind that there is no deception involved.” Though he only looks a bit older than me, his manner of speaking is so old-world that it makes me wonder where he’s from.
    Mother looks as if she’s going to explode, but then she catches the eye of Mrs. Carmichael, who’s staring with open curiosity. I can almost see the gears switching as my mother tries another tactic. She tilts her head, causing her jet earrings to dangle flirtatiously. “My dear Mr. Archer, if you’re such a nonbeliever, what are you doing here?”
    “Please, call me Cole. And I never said I was a non-believer. I’m open to all sorts of mystical experiences, but I was quite impressed with your daughter’s magic tonight. She’s very talented. I think I’d prefer to have her where I can see her.”
    Cole pats the empty chair next to him and my heart rises up in my throat. I’ve always avoided the Ouija board like the plague. Stupid to be frightened of a mere game, but then again, I’ve never had mah-jongg tiles or checkers buzz in my hands.
    Please don’t make me join, I entreat my mother silently.
    But as my mother glances again at her mark, I know I’m doomed.
    “Sit,