I confess, I did come to suspect the use of gimmicks: a hidden floor pedal to tremble the table, a magnet that moved sand into messages, a candlewick rigged to self-extinguish. Houdini would have lambasted each of these, having dedicated the latter part of his life to exposing spiritualists as vulturous swindlers. Still, I’d like to think he’d have appreciated the pragmatic lessons to be learned on presentation and persuasion cued by people’s tells.

“In any event, I’d have gladly kept the job longer, had it not come to a tragic end.”

“How…did it end?” He was wary, as though wondering if we’d somehow summoned a demon.

In a way, we did.

“Mrs. Jansen discovered she’d misunderstood the word ‘spiritualist.’ That it didn’t involve teachings about the Holy Spirit. She saw it as witchcraft and just about had a conniption.”

Hendrik took this in and burst into hearty laughter.

I too could laugh about the situation now. It hadn’t been quite as entertaining when every dime I’d earned from that job—including the portion I’d contributed to the family, as I always did—went into the collection basket at church.

“I’ve definitely got to hear more about this,” Hendrik said, easing to a smile.

As I went to oblige, he added, “How about supper on Friday? You know, if you’re game, with a little poking around, I bet I could even find a magician’s show somewhere.”

An official date with Hendrik Smit…

The idea was sumptuous all on its own. Topping it off with a sprinkling of magic?

Nothing, I’d thought, could be dreamier.

***

On the evening of the performance, Hendrik took me to a quaint Italian restaurant that smelled of stewed tomatoes and roasted garlic. With my hair in a painstakingly elegant twist, I wore my green, scoop-necked dress, chosen to flatter my kohl-lined eyes and girdled figure. I’d packed my raspberry lipstick for touch-ups, as well as powder to fight any glistening from the heat.

None of my preparations, though, aided my attempt to eat gracefully.

Between careful nibbles of my red-sauced linguine, which Hendrik had zealously ordered for us both, I listened to updates about his pals and family and his Midwest travels to sell his uncle’s medical equipment to doctors. In turn, he learned of my promise to Mr. Jansen to wait until I was at least twenty-one before moving to a dazzling city like Chicago to find the perfect stage partner and work our way up to a big-time show. Getting a foot in the door might be tough, but I was determined.

What I opted to leave out was that this gave Mrs. Jansen at least three long months to continue urging me to settle down with a suitable match. A futile effort with good intention. Sure, I was bound to marry someday, just not anytime soon. According to my plan.