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remember that,” Komang said. “We’ve looked over the proposal. She owned that place for years, so she turned them down.”
    Jim turned alert, like a shark sensing a drop of blood in the water. “Did they say on whose behalf?”
    â€œNo.” Komang frowned. “I think the client remained anonymous.”
    â€œDo you remember which law firm?” I asked.
    â€œAbbot and something,” Komang said.
    â€œAbbot, Sadlowski, and Shirley!” Iluh said, her face lighting up. “I remember because if you put all the capitals together you get—”
    I giggled. Iluh giggled back.
    Komang gave Iluh a disappointed mother look.
    â€œThey should’ve rearranged their names,” Iluh said.
    â€œIt’s a place to start,” Jim said.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    I drove through the quiet streets to Eyang Ida’s salon. It was the best place to start. We could go after the law firm, but no lawyer worth his or her salt would divulge the name of their client if the client wished to remain anonymous. Right now, with the attempt on Eyang Ida’s life having failed, was thebest time to snoop around and see if anyone was unsettled by it.
    Jim sat in the seat next to me. It was the strangest thing. His face was relaxed, his pose lazy. Jim had only two modes: menacing and waiting to menace. He usually worked so hard on being scary, he intimidated people while he was asleep.
    I slowed down, just to keep him languid a little longer. The way he sat now, draped over the seat, made me think of him lying on a blanket on the grass under the peach trees. Just lying there, quietly napping, with the sun on his face. I could lie next to him, read a book, and bring us some iced tea when we got thirsty . . . In another universe.
    â€œWhat was the plan, telling Komang that we’re dating?” I demanded.
    â€œJust keeping the record straight,” Jim said.
    â€œYou just told my mother’s BFF that I have a boyfriend. I’m going to get a call from her.”
    â€œYou can handle one phone call,” he said.
    â€œAnd then the phone calls from my uncle and my aunt, and my cousin and my other cousin, and my once-removed cousin’s second daughter, and my roommate from college whom I haven’t seen in four years . . .”
    Jim smiled.
    â€œIt’s not funny.”
    â€œIf you called them all together and made one big announcement, it would save you some trouble,” he said.
    Ha. Ha. Oh so funny. “Is that why you’re inviting me to the barbeque? So you can knock it out?”
    â€œThey already know,” he said.
    Great. Magic alone knew what he told them about me.
    We pulled up in front of a long rectangular building. Built with sturdy red brick, it faired the magic well—the walls seemed mostly intact and the roof was in good repair. Five businesses occupied the building. First, Ida’s Hair Place, closed and dark, the door intact; then Vasil’s European Deli; followed by Family Chiropractic and Wellness Center; F&R Courier Service; and Eleventh Planet, a comic book store.
    â€œWhy offer to buy just one business?” I thought out loud. “That would make no sense.”
    â€œExactly,” Jim said.
    â€œThere is nothing super great about this location. The street has some traffic but it’s not really busy.”
    â€œAnd the parking lot is more than half empty,” Jim added.
    That was true. Two cars waited by the comic book shop, a horse tied to the chiropractor’s pole shifted from foot to foot, a large truck sat by Vasil’s Deli, and a bunch of bicycles rested in the bike racks by the courier service. I concentrated. I felt nothing mystical or magical about this location. It was thoroughly . . . average.
    â€œWhoever this person is would have to either make the offer for all of the businesses—” Jim started.
    â€œOr be one of the business owners in