“Okay,” I said. I surrendered a matchbook.

It took him about a half dozen matches to get it done. I got more annoyed at each spent match but Grace just watched happily.

“Okay, now that it’s finally lit,” I said, “let’s sing.”

Joel joined in. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Grace, happy birthday to you.”

Grace clapped.

“Okay,” I said. “Now make a wish and blow it out.”

Grace turned to me. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to look at it for a while.”

“Sure. Whatever you want. It’s your birthday.”

She stared into the flame for a moment then said, without looking at either of us, “I can see things in flames.”

After a moment I asked, “What do you mean? What kind of things?”

“I can see the future.”

That was one thing about Grace: I never really knew if she was telling the truth or if she wasn’t but believed that she was.

“Like a fortune-teller?” I asked.

She nodded. “Uh huh. What do you want to know?”

I felt a little funny. I remembered seeing something like this once on television. There was a proper way to phrase the question. “O, seer of the future,” I said, “what does my future hold?”

Without acknowledging whether or not I’d asked correctly, she looked intently into the candle, seeming to lose herself to the flame’s irregular swaying. She looked at me and said, “Someday you will be someone who is feared.”

I suppose I expected about anything but that. Though I liked the idea of being feared, I didn’t believe her. “You must have the wrong guy,” I said. “The only thing that fears me is a donut.”

“Last summer I saw a grasshopper hop away from him,” Joel said.

“Enough,” I said.

“The flame never lies,” she said. “You will be feared.”

“How about me?” Joel said. “Do me.”

Grace gazed back into the dancing flame. After a full minute she looked back at Joel. “You are going to be someone famous. Someday people will ask for your autograph.”

Joel smiled broadly. “Really?”

“Famous for what?” I asked, even more annoyed that his fortune was clearly better than mine.

“I don’t know,” she said matter-of-factly. “Joel, I better get your autograph now before I have to pay for it.”

This is absurd, I thought.

“Okay,” Joel said. Grace had a pen in her bag and Joel signed the back of the baseball card. “I’ll give you all the autographs you want.”

“One will be fine, thank you.” She took back the pen, then stowed it with her card in her bag. “All right. I’m going to blow the candle out now,” she said. “Here goes nothing.” Even though there was only one candle, it took her two tries.

“Darn it,” Joel said. “I’m not going to be famous.”