She managed a weak smile as she reached for her coat. “Thank you.”

“Nice earrings, by the way.”

That brought a better smile, close to her classic, as her hand went unconsciously to her ear. “Why, thank you!”

Hmm.Had she ever worn those before? He couldn’t recall.

chapter

26

She bought another pair of earrings, real silver this time, dangling just below her haircut with tiny diamonds sparkling. They weren’t cheap but they weren’t beyond her budget either, they came with a matching necklace, and hey, they were only the second pair of earrings she’d owned since September 17. The reason she bought them was simple enough: she was being a girl because, after all, that’s what she was. She’d lost the thought somewhere along the way with her mind so full, but it was finding its way back to her—and making things a little scary.

Being a girl wasn’t hard when she was with Seamus or Mr. Collins. They were friends. They knew her situation—well, partsof it. But driving to McCaffee’s on Friday night for her seven-o’clock show, walking by those posters announcing a whiskered, red-nosed Hobett, and coming through that door looking like a girl was the strangest feeling, like that dream about being naked in public, like every person in the place was staring at her. Mr. Collins was right. She didn’t know she was hiding until now, when she really felt like she wasn’t and wished she was.

Roger was busy behind the counter, but she held his attention the moment he saw her. “Oh, what’s this?”

All she could say was, “I thought I’d try being myself tonight.”

He looked her over and nodded agreeably, but then he scowled a little. “Are we gonna have to reprint the posters?”

Abby just beamed. “I like it.”

Megan looked at her and immediately looked at herself. Myron looked at her and whistled. Eloise turned red and Megan gave him a shoulder slap.

It wasn’t that big a deal, just dress slacks and a white blouse, a lacy vest, good shoes she could still dance in, some accessories, a little more jewelry, girl makeup instead of hobo, and since she wouldn’t be wearing a goofy hat, she had Rhea give her hair a little wave, a little frosting.

Maybe if the Hobett hadn’t looked so terrible … Guy,she felt stared at!

Dane arrived at about six-forty and this time he got a chair at a table right in front—and right next to Seamus Downey.

“It appears you’ve had quite an influence,” said Downey, but it didn’t sound like a compliment.

Dane took it as a compliment anyway as he followed Downey’s gaze to a sight that surprised and then pleased him: Eloise Kramer mingling and chatting it up with the customers prior to her show—and looking as good as he’d ever seen her.

She figured the only way to be among friends was to make a few before the show started. It turned out that Eloise was naturally chatty, much more than the Hobett or the Gypsy, another little thing she’d forgotten about herself. She got to know John and Kathy from Sandpoint, Marge and Winnie from the Gateway Senior Center, Jim and Cindy from Kellogg, and several others, and the only comment she got that could have been referring to the change from Hobett to Girl was from Sheri the mom, “Well, you’re very pretty!”

Okay. Cool.But as seven o’clock approached and Eloise stole behind the curtain into the pantry she wondered, did “pretty” amount to “funny”? Without the Hobett’s bumbling ways this was going to be a whole new shtick and she hadn’t been there yet.

Well, bring it on.It was better than going back.

Dane noticed the house wasn’t as full tonight, probably due to the snow. Winter was going to slow things down, which meant a kind of catch-22 for his client: she’d have to find more gigs elsewhere, but there probably wouldn’t be as many available. They’d better line up some Christmas parties, maybe a New Year’s party at a safe venue, hopefully something for Valentine’s Day, any birthday parties she could fit in, and she’d better get a Web page started and know how to budget. They’d have much to talk about. Oh, and he’d definitely have to compliment her on her good looks tonight. That frosting in her hair fit so well. It was easier to imagine her as a blonde.

So he’d had quite an influence. Nice feeling.

Anyway, back to business. He watched the folks still coming in, hoping for a good crowd. One man had found a single chair in the corner by the window and sat there all by himself with a computer in his lap. Not odd for this place, but odd for this hour. It would be interesting to see if Eloise could draw his attention away from whatever he was working on.

Eloise tucked Burt into the pocket of her vest. He made a pretty obvious bulge, but wouldn’t be there long. She stretched a little. She’d reworked a few of her dance steps to accommodate her new outfit.

She could hear all the voices, the clinking of spoons, the hissing of the steamer, the cacophony of her audience waiting, twenty-plus different conversations going at the same time and none of them understandable, like a henhouse at slow speed. She loved that sound. She stopped every other thing just to listen.

It’s all about them, Mandy. Those are …

She broke inside. She wasn’t expecting it.

Those are your friends… .

Tears came to her eyes. Mandy?And thinking the name again brought a fresh wave of tears, a trembling lip, a quake in her diaphragm. She broke down, right there, without choice or warning and only minutes before she had to go on.

Desperate, she pulled the emotion in, breathed deep, tried to settle, wiped her eyes. She had a mirror hanging from a nail and her makeup bag resting next to the Kenyan coffee beans. She checked herself, tissued off the smears, touched everything up.

She just wanted to be her.

She put the tissue to her eyes again, trying to hold back the flood, but she couldn’t keep herself from thinking it, from officially posting it on the bulletin board in her brain, I just want to be her, that’s all.

She was still trying to steady up, still sniffing a little when she peered through the curtain. It was five minutes to seven. Myron and Megan were getting ready to do the crisscross magical appearance with her. She could see the crowd all visiting, smiling, expecting—her friends.

Breathe. Settle down. Think of your first moves.

Something was burning.

Was there smoke in the room? Everything looked kind of brownish, like she was looking into the room through a glass of tea.

She blinked, looked at the ceiling, the floor, scanned from wall to wall trying to break the spell that had come over her eyes.

From somewhere under the floor came a low rumble. The voices in the shop began to echo, as if falling back into a long hallway.

She forced her eyes shut as hard as she could. She clamped her hands over her ears.

When she opened her eyes, somewhere elsewas swirling through the coffee shop, a building within the building: strange halls and doors, other voices and sounds.

“Ready, Eloise?” It was Megan’s voice coming from somewhere, broken up into pieces. Eloise looked right at her and looked right through her.

Go with it. Live with it. Act normal. Don’t let anyone know.

She heard her own voice somewhere else in the room saying, “Sure, let’s go.”

The recorded music started, her jazzy opener, off-speed, fast, slow, the tone heaving up and down, the lines repeating and overlapping. Myron was already across the room, ready to cross back, just waiting for Megan and Eloise … and waiting for Megan and Eloise.

“You ready?” came Megan’s voice.

“You ready?” came Megan’s voice.

Eloise stared through the curtain and through other walls and other rooms to see her audience. Ghostly shapes like people passed through the coffee shop and through the tables. The posters of Rhett and Scarlett, Bogey and Bacall drifted over small rooms with beds, obscured then revealed an old lady in a wheelchair, a couple coming through the wall carrying flowers. Corners, walls, streaks of light spun past as if on a carousel.