“So how can we help?” Joce asked, but she was looking at her husband.
Mike saw that Luke seemed to be in a trance. His eyes were glazed over, and he was staring at the wall. Mike looked at the two women in question.
“It’s his writer’s face,” Joce said. “He has a book idea, and it’s no use talking to him until he returns to earth.”
“Oh,” Mike said. “I’ve never been around a writer before.”
“Joce is a writer too,” Sara said.
“But I write biographies. I dig and find out about people. It’s not the same as making up plots. Luke starts with a blank piece of paper and—”
“The fair,” Luke said.
“What about it?” Mike asked. “By the way, where’s it to be held?”
“Nate’s Field,” Joce and Sara said in unison.
“Merlin’s Farm, K Creek, Nate’s Field,” Mike said. “Where do all these names come from?”
“No idea,” Joce said, her eyes on Luke.
He turned to Mike. “How do you plan to draw this woman out?”
Mike couldn’t very well say that he intended to use Sara’s fiancé to get the woman to show herself. “You have any ideas?”
“My publishing house has a fantastic in-house art department with state-of-the-art equipment.”
“Great,” Mike said, but he didn’t see the connection.
“What if we create a set of tarot cards with gypsy pictures on them, my pub house prints them, then we get someone to tell fortunes at the fair? That way this …”
“Mitzi,” Sara said.
“Mitzi—if she’s here—will see them.”
“And want them,” Joce added.
Mike sat there blinking at them as he thought about the idea. It was either brilliant or could get someone killed. “I … I don’t know if it would work. Where do we get an artist on such short notice?”
“Shamus,” Luke, Jocelyn, and Sara said in unison.
“Don’t believe I’ve met him,” Mike said, smiling at the assurance on all three faces. “Who is he?”
“He’s the youngest of the Fraziers,” Luke said.
“The afterthought,” Sara added. “The surprise to his parents.”
“He’s only fifteen, but he is a Frazier,” Joce said.
“What does that mean?” Mike asked.
The other three looked at one another but didn’t reply.
“So I get to be the fortune-teller, right?” Joce said. “I can lie on a chaise lounge and turn over the cards Shamus makes.”
“Absolutely not.” Luke’s tone said it was a done deal. He had spoken.
“Oh?” Joce asked, her eyebrows raised. “I guess you mean for me to stay here in this house during the fair. Lie in bed taking care of your babies, looking after your house, seeing to your food, and—”