Harriet gave her a tight smile. “Miss O’Neill.”
Evie imagined Harriet taking a cream pie to her overly powdered face.
“My goodness, Miss Knight, I didn’t realize you went in for Diviners,” Harriet said. It sounded innocent enough, but the girls knew that nothing Harriet said was innocent. Even her grocery list was probably a trap.
“If Miss O’Neill’s powers can help me find out who I really am, I’m all for it. Hip, hip, hooray for Diviners, I say.”
“Hmm.” Harriet’s eyes glinted with something hard as she pivoted to Evie. “Miss O’Neill, is it really true that you think there are ghosts on Ward’s Island?”
“It is, Mrs. Henderson,” Evie said, using every bit of those elocution lessons the radio station had forced her to take. “Why, the patients are scared to death! I do hope the warden will allow me back before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“Indeed,” Evie said as ominously as possible. She could feel Theta about to break into giggles.
“Why do you think that man tried to shoot you, Miss O’Neill?”
“I suppose that’s a question for Miss Snow to ask the Lord.”
“Evil, don’t push it,” Theta muttered under her breath.
But Evie wanted to push it. She’d grown up in a small town of small minds. She knew a Blue Nose like Harriet when she saw one—the types to smile and feign concern, then tear you apart behind your back. People like Harriet Henderson only rose by climbing up the misery steps of someone else’s misfortune.
“Perhaps that man—”
“Luther Clayton.” He has a name, Evie wanted to shout.
“Yes. He’s a war hero, is he not?”
“Yes.”
Harriet smiled, and Evie’s stomach flipped as if registering an alarm a second too late. “You see, I heard that fellow, the war hero, wanted to shoot you because you were a Diviner, and he believed that Diviners can’t be trusted. That they are a plague upon the nation. Must be awful to be doubted by one of our finest, our boys back from the noble fight. What do you say to that, Miss O’Neill? Should we be more afraid of Diviners, perhaps, than we are of any supposed ghosts?”
“Golly, look at the time! I’m afraid Miss O’Neill has a show to do!” Theta pulled Evie toward the door before she could lose her temper and say something she’d regret come the morning papers. “Don’t take the bait, Evil.”
But Harriet Henderson wasn’t finished. “Miss Knight!” she called after the girls. “Is it true that you spend a great deal of your time up in Harlem with Negroes? My spies have seen you there quite a lot. I do wonder, what’s so interesting uptown?”
The fear hit Theta like a lightning strike. All she could do was stare back at the cold light of Harriet Henderson’s eyes.
“You keep on wondering, Mrs. Henderson—it’s swell for the mind!” Evie said with forced jollity. And this time, it was Evie pulling Theta to safety.
“That reptile! That pinched-face, stupid-hat-wearing reptile!” Evie groused as she and Theta powdered their noses in the ladies’ lounge.
“Well, that reptile has a lot of power.” Theta’s eyes met Evie’s in the mirror. “Say, I’m having second thoughts about letting you use that scrap of baby blanket for the reading tonight. I know we wanted to make it look authentic, but…”
Evie lowered her voice. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out. When we’re up there, I won’t be able to feel a thing. Promise.”
Every seat in the audience was filled tonight. Sarah Snow slipped into the audience at the back, along with Harriet Henderson. Mr. Forman, the announcer, welcomed Evie to the stage and they shilled for the sponsor: “Pears is American pure,” Evie said, reading from her script, trying to give the line extra enthusiasm so they’d be happy with her. So far, they were still boosting her show rather than Sarah’s, and she meant to hold on to their support. At last, Mr. Forman called Theta to the stage to much applause. She greeted Evie warmly, whispering in her ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”
“Just follow my lead,” Evie whispered back. “Welcome to the Pears Soap Hour, Miss Knight. I understand you have no memory of your former life in Russia?”
“I only have this scrap of blanket. It was with me when I was found at the orphanage. If you could find something about my lost family, why, I’d be awfully grateful, Miss O’Neill,” Theta said, like the great actress she was, and Evie had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.
“Leave it to me. And to the spirits, of course.” Evie took hold of the scrap of blanket Theta had brought. The wool was old and scratchy and rich with memory. Evie could sense its power, but, as promised, she’d taken precautions: Backstage, she’d glued small squares of paper to her palms in the hope that it would dull the signals from beyond. She closed her eyes and pretended to go under. “I see a sweet little boy… perhaps your brother?”
“Oh, gee, I hope so!” Theta said, playing along.
Evie drew in a sharp, sudden breath. The audience gasped, too, on the edge of their seats. “Oh. Oh, no.”
“Miss O’Neill? Are you all right?”
Evie staggered. “Why, this has never happened to me before… I’m… I’m receiving a message from beyond.…”
Evie peeked through her lashes. The audience was eating it up. Here goes, she thought.