Jake didn’t have to pretend to be surprised by this. “What does a spirit guide do?”

She pretended to consider this question. “I’m still learning about this myself, of course, but there are millions of spirits from all the people who have already died. It would be impossible for a mere mortal to commune with all of them, so the spirit guide relays the messages from the appropriate ones.”

“Oh, that’s kind of what I do.”

Persephone thought this was amusing. “Are you a spirit guide, Mr. Miller?”

“Please call me John, and no, I don’t guide spirits, but I do guide my clients in a way. There are many ways for them to invest their money, so I investigate them and direct the clients to the soundest opportunities.”

“That must be a huge responsibility.”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say my clients don’t tolerate too many mistakes.”

“And you have others helping you, I think you said.”

“Yes, men with more experience. They advise the younger men.”

“What would happen if you discovered an opportunity yourself? Would the more experienced men take your advice in return?”

He pretended to consider this. “I . . . I haven’t encountered anything like that, but if it looked good, they probably would.”

“And would they advise their clients to invest as well?”

“Probably.” Then he grinned. “Is this what Madame Ophelia was talking about? Does she think the spirits will tell me about some great offering that I can pass along to my clients?”

“I just know that several of Madame’s clients have received messages that helped them financially.”

The waiter delivered their dinners at that moment, so Jake had some time to decide what to say next.

“This looks delicious,” she said.

Jake hoped it was since he was supposedly a regular customer. “Let’s make a toast,” he said, raising his glass. Persephone, he’d noticed, hadn’t touched her wine. “To the spirits and prosperity.”

She lifted her glass and clinked it with his, but she took only a small sip. She was obviously too well trained to take a chance on losing control.

He gave her a few minutes to get started on her dinner. The food was better than expected, and he enjoyed it himself.

“You must have been very close to your mother,” she said to break the silence.

“ ‘A boy’s best friend is his mother,’ right?” he quoted wryly.

“Are you saying that isn’t true for you?” she asked with apparent surprise.

“No, but I wasn’t as close to her as you seem to assume.”

She laid her fork down and frowned in concern. “I suppose it’s a natural assumption, since you said you wanted to contact her.”