changed her shoes and retrieved an open deck of cards from the case. Leaving the Jokers in the box, she commenced to shuffling, the feel of the cards fanning through her fingers immediately comforting.
Not—for once—that she needed it.
“This is called The Lovers,” Dini said as Quin sat down. She fanned the soft cards, cut them, and shuffled again. “Appropriate, because this place too is haunted by a tragic love story.”
“Is it?”
“It is.” She shuffled as she spoke. “It was just after the turn of the century, 1901, maybe ’02. There was a wedding to be held here, and the bride and her family arrived a few days early to make preparations.” Dini set the deck on the table. “Take the top half and shuffle the cards.”
“I can’t do fancy shuffling.”
“Any shuffling will do.” Dini did the same with her own half. “Anyway, the morning of the wedding, the groom didn’t show up. The bride waited and waited. All day and the next.” Dini set down her half of the deck, signaling Quin to do the same. “Her father sent her brothers out to track him down. Drag him back if need be. They found a set of tracks leading out of town, but the trail ended, cold. Nobody had seen him, and as far as the family knew, nobody saw or heard from him again.” She picked up her half of the deck. “Cut it”—she demonstrated—“and look at the card in the cut. Don’t show me.”
Quin did, bringing a familiar furrow of concentration to his brow.
“Remember it?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Now put it on top.” She reached out, took Quin’s half of the deck, laid hers on top, and began a series of swift cuts, moving small groups of cards throughout the deck. “The woman refused to leave the hotel, knowing that her lover would return. She stayed after her family left, and the owner let her work as a maid, and she eventually ran the place. She died sometime in 1930.” She looked up, fully focused on Quin. “Do you remember your card?”
“Nine of spades.”
“Nine of spades. Mine was the four of hearts.” She began turning the cards over, one by one. “A few years later, the new owner is about to lock up for the night, when suddenly the door bursts open, and a man dressed like someone from the last century comes running through the door. And—get this—he runs through the owner. Like a chill. And right up the stairs. Those very stairs we saw when we walked in.” She turned over his card. “Nine of spades.”
“There it is,” Quin said.
“There it is,” Dini said. “And then, the guy turns, looks up at the top of the stairs, and what do you think he sees?”
“The bride.”
“The four of hearts,” she said before turning her card over. “Like the lovers, finding each other.”
She liked to do this trick at wedding showers or bachelorette parties, having learned a few bits about the bride and groom’s story. She’d even done it at birthday parties, turning the cards into a rescued princess, or even mortal enemies meeting for a final battle. It was the last part that made it a show, timing out the final telling so the revealing of the card fell in rhythm with the story. She’d done it hundreds of times, but today was the first time she’d sat across the table from someone she wanted very much to find again. To return to.
“Amazing,” Quin said, leaning in, his elbows on the table.
She felt her cheeks flush and took a sip of her drink. “Not really. It’s pretty simple.”
“Not the trick, no offense. But you. You’re mesmerizing. You’re the magic.”
“I love that story.”
It was dark in the Pipe Room, the alcove lit by a single amber bulb. The women were nothing but a soft, far-off sound. Dini shuffled the cards. “Want to see another one?”
Before he could answer, Lorraine stuck her head around the corner. “Five minutes, sweetie. You might want to freshen your lipstick.”
“I’m up!” Dini said, focusing. She took another sip of her drink. “There’s no alcohol in this, is there?”
“The bartender assures me, no.”
“Good to know.”
For the next ninety minutes, she worked. The crowd was sweet, laughing at her jokes and offering a few back without heckling. She kept up the banter through all the illusions, snapping the cards and tapping the deck on the table with every punch line. The Triple Deal. The Swimmers. The Switcheroo. She brought volunteers up from the audience just as she would