“I can tell you’re a woman used to getting her way, but this is not some customer service hotline, where you demand to speak to more and more senior managers until you get what you want. Here we’re all equals. I’ve been here longer than anyone, yet I still attend classes like everyone else.”
I try to interrupt, but he speaks over me. “Teacher is much too busy and important to worry about the likes of you, as are the rest of us. Kit works all over this island. Since she doesn’t wear a tracking device, I don’t know where she is at the moment. In the hope of making your visit as expeditious as possible, I will direct her to your room when I see her next.” He points toward the cabins. “Shall we?”
Arguing with Gordon is a waste of my time; clearly he’s determined to be useless. I’ll scour the grounds on my own instead. If Kit is on staff, I’m bound to run into her. “Where are we going?”
He points at the duffel bag over my shoulder. “I thought you might like to drop that off.”
We weave through the guest accommodations, positioned in four concentric circles. The cabins are basic but sturdy, with windows on three of the four walls. Given how close the houses are to one another, snooping must be easy. Unless there are curtains I can’t see, someone could watch you sleep.
“Watch your step,” Gordon says as we pass a big hole in the ground in the center of the rings. That must be a pool. With snow covering every surface, it would be easy to fall into the drained concrete pit if you weren’t paying attention. Or if someone pushed you.
“I’ll need two things before I let you go.” Gordon cracks his knuckles. “The first is your phone.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t bring mine.”
He watches me. “Where is it, then?”
“I left it at home.”
He purses his lips.
“I figured I wouldn’t have service out here.”
He’s about to follow up when a deep voice behind us calls his name. We both turn.
“Where have you been?” the man demands. He’s in his forties, tall, burly, and bald. His beard gives Hagrid’s a run for its money.
Gordon’s wrinkled face sours. “I’m busy at the moment. Your theatrics will have to wait.”
The man blinks furiously. “You go off on these long jaunts where no one hears from you for days.”
“I was only gone for a couple hours, bringing new guests to the island.” He glances sideways at me.
“That’s Sanderson’s job.”
“Yes, well, he’s out of sorts today. Now, if you’ll excuse us . . .” He steps away from the big guy and continues up the path. I follow suit, peeking over my shoulder as I do. The man storms off in the opposite direction.
The fog has thinned, hanging around us like tattered curtains, but the snow falls faster and clouds loom lower, suffocatingly close now.
“So your hospitality extends to employees as well as guests,” I say.
Gordon works his jaw. “You Collins girls are nothing but trouble, you know that?”
I wonder what Kit has done to piss this guy off. “Does that mean I should cancel the tandem bike reservation I made for us?”
He ignores that, stops at cabin sixteen, and pulls a key card from his pocket. “You’ll stay here for the night.”
“Fine.” I reach for the card.
“It’s strange.” He holds on to it, scrutinizing me. “You said you left your phone at home, yet I have it on good authority you were using it in the harbor parking lot this afternoon.”
Startled, I drop my purse. Gordon and I both bend to pick it up, but he gets to it first. He peeks inside, then holds on for a second before letting me take it from him. Our eyes meet.
“Better get your story straight.” He hands me the key. “Around here we don’t take kindly to liars.”
8
I STARED AT the burgundy velvet curtains. A bead of sweat ran down my hairline. When the curtains opened, I stifled the urge to run offstage and forced a grin on my face.
I clutched my wand, then stepped forward on the polished wood floor. A month ago, the spotlights had blinded me. Now I hardly noticed them. I glanced around my high school auditorium. Half of the three hundred seats were filled, the most spectators I’d ever had. Few performers came to my small town. Word had spread.
In the front row at house center sat Sir and Mother. Jack wasn’t there. She had departed for college earlier that year, not that she would have attended my show anyway. She’d chosen a university out west, determined to move as far from home as she could. I tried to bother her as little as possible, saving my calls for the nights when I was truly scared of what our father might do. Not once did she pick up.
Mother had put on her Sunday best tonight. Sir wore denim and a T-shirt. I’d held them off as long as I could, wanting to hone my performance first, but last night he’d put his foot down. Now Mother waved at me. Sir winked.
They were the least of my worries.
I stepped up to the microphone stand and introduced myself. “Welcome to Earthly Delights.” I scanned the crowd for four pimpled faces, then grabbed the microphone and gesticulated around the stage, where I’d scattered empty flower pots earlier.
“Let’s brighten this place up before we get started.” I pointed my wand at a pot. A lipstick-red tulip bloomed. Someone gasped. I strolled from pot to pot, sprouting a different flower in each one, the next prettier than the last. The audience cooed with pleasure. I could have done this trick in my sleep by now, had roused from more than one dream brandishing my index finger like a wand. Once every pot held a flower, I raised my arms and turned to the crowd. I reveled in their raucous applause and exhaled, a grin breaking out on my face for the first time that night.
I still hadn’t located them. Perhaps they had rehearsals.
After the flower trick, I sashayed to the cardboard table at stage left, buoyed by my guests’ enthusiasm. I settled into the familiar rhythm of my show, a forty-minute routine that had taken me six months to assemble and practice. From the table I grabbed my old rope, cutting it in two before making it whole again. Golf balls appeared between my fingers, then vanished as quickly. I did a series of scarf tricks, first pulling one long rainbow-striped piece of fabric from my mouth. I separated it into five smaller scarves, each one an individual color, then turned them back into one tie-dyed piece. Though the stunts were hardly innovative, the audience went wild. According to the new book I was reading, magic wasn’t about the tricks. It was about selling your audience, making them believe in what you were doing.