Cover art by Erin Halfelven
©2026, SammyC

Jeremy and I had frantically roamed the grounds of The Lodge searching for Big Sal Maranzano. It was a quarter after 10 AM on Friday morning, only 45 minutes from the fateful meeting where Aaron Felder would be forced to sign away title to the resort to Big Sal and David Kellerman, the New York City real estate magnate. All because Aaron couldn’t quell his incessant need to gamble away the fortune his father had bequeathed him. What a poor excuse for a human being!

We found Big Sal, accompanied by his two hulking bodyguards, strolling through the rows of wisteria in the garden. He had plucked a clutch of blossoms from a vine and was sniffing its sweet, heady, sometimes over-powering scent.

“Mr. Maranzano!” I called out. He turned around and flashed a wide grin when he saw me.

“Ah, my star attraction! Wonderful morning, isn’t it? What do you call these flowers?”

“Wisteria. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“What can I do you for?”

“You haven’t seen my act in its entirety since you’ve been here. I’d love to hear your critique of it. Tell me if it’s up to snuff for a Las Vegas audience—”

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about. Especially if you wear that costume I saw you in.”

“I’d like to give you a private performance in the Supper Club.”

“Well…that sounds…very interesting.”

“I mean right now,” I quickly interjected. “You’re leaving for Italy later today. Everything’s set up for you. Please, it’ll take less than a half-hour.” I showed him my best cute and pleading face, with hands clasped in a beseeching gesture.

He looked at his gold Rolex and nodded. “Okay, I suppose I’ve got the time to spare before my meeting. I’ll need my friends to come along too.” He pointed his thumbs at his bodyguards.

“Of course. Come to the Supper Club in 5 minutes.” I clapped my hands excitedly in convincing fashion.

As Jeremy and I walked back to The Lodge, I turned to him.

“You know what to do when the cops arrive,” I instructed.

“I just hope they get here in time.”

“I’ll do my best to keep him detained until they show up. Just bring them in when I give you the signal.”

Big Sal, flanked on either side by his bodyguards, sat at a table in the center of the Supper Club. Sitting at the table, a confident expression on her face, was Elena. Nervously, I peeked out from the wing of the stage, my fingers crossed. I had changed into the most alluring costume I possessed. Of course, I had only two. One in green, the other in black with rhinestones. I was wearing the black one. It silhouetted my figure against the darkened backdrop of the stage. Aaron winked to me as he strolled past me onto the stage. Standing front and center, he introduced me to my private audience.

“Good..er…good morning, gentlemen and lady. Welcome to The Supper Club. Tonight…excuse me…this morning, we are proud to present the magical stylings of a young woman who I discovered just this summer. Since becoming a solo act due to the unfortunate illness that has sidelined her father, the famous, even legendary magician Jack Ace, this little lady has thrilled and mesmerized audiences here in The Catskills. In only a matter of days, she has become the talk of the season. A review of her act is set to appear in The Times Sunday edition. And I have it from inside sources that—”

“Hey, Felder. Enough with the intro. Time is money, if you get my drift. Let’s get the show on the road.”

“I give you…Lindsey Ace, The Magician’s Daughter!” Aaron hurriedly rushed offstage. After a beat, I sauntered into the spotlight, trying not to wobble on my high heels.

Big Sal whistled. “Hey, chickie baby, you’re looking nice!” He elbowed his bodyguards and they started to applaud vehemently.

“So that’s how you do the door into nowhere trick,” remarked Sal as he re-emerged into the spotlight of the stage. I had asked him to take part in the trick, telling him that there was a trap door in the floor that would lead him down below the stage once I shut the door behind him. He would listen for my cue and climb back up to magically reappear.

“Shhh. Don’t be loud about it. The audience will hear.”

“What audience? Oh, yeah my…friends.” He waved to his bodyguards, who had stood up, ready for action, when Sal had seemingly disappeared. “It’s okay, fellas. Oooh, it was weird. But I’m back!”

I peered into the darkened Supper Club to see if the cavalry had arrived. But there was only the solitary figure of one of the porters standing by the entrance doors. One final part of the act left.

“Since you’re leaving today to reunite with your family on their summer vacation on the island of Capri, Mr. Maranzano, my parting gift to you is to show you a preview of the sights and sounds of that beautiful destination. No, I’m not going to show you a travelogue film of Capri. I’m going to let you experience Capri here, right here, in your seats, thousands of miles away from the Amalfi Coast. Stage manager, please dim the lights. Everyone close your eyes and listen very carefully to my voice.”

After a few seconds, I broke the silence.

““Open your eyes. You are flying above the clouds. Yes, flying. Not in an airplane. You have the power of flight. You’re soaring above the deep blue ocean. The feeling of utter freedom fills your body and mind. Look over there, to your right. You are looking down on the Amalfi Coast of Italy. And there, past the promontory that juts out into the Gulf of Naples, lies the island of Capri.”

“How am I seeing this?” Sal was waving his hands in front of him.

“Sal, it’s a sunny late summer morning on Capri. Your wife and children have gone to the beach, allowing you to sleep late. Now that you’re up, you’ve decided to go out, see the sights of the island, and enjoy a Neapolitan brunch of Cacio e Pepe Eggs (soft scrambled eggs with Pecorino, grana, and black pepper), Zabaglione French Toast topped with fresh berries and cinnamon, and Espresso Martini (vodka, coffee liqueur, and Irish cream).”

“Yes, yes, that’s what I’d order—”

“But, first, you find yourself taking a walking tour of the island, on your way to the famous Aurora Café on the Via Fuorlovado, where the beautiful people dine. Here you are, strolling through an alleyway that ends in the Piazzetta, the bustling heart of the island, where locals and tourists alike mingle under the warm Mediterranean sun. You see luxury boutiques, traditional eateries, and experience the vibrant local culture that combines the Renaissance with the modern age. Despite being flanked by your ‘friends’ as you walk through the crowd, you are enjoying your anonymity.

You feel free of unwanted gazes as you enter The Augustus Gardens, hiking up to an elevation of 1100 feet above the sea, a scenic path that looks down on Marina Piccola and the beach where your wife and children are right now lounging. Breathe in the salt sea air. The warm breeze off the rocks above the nearby Via Krupp wafts the jasmine perfume of gardenias in your nose. You are at peace here in the homeland of your ancestors.”

Loud sighs came from everyone, including Elena and the porter stationed at the door to the Supper Club.

“You remember your original mission was to have brunch, so you find yourself having turned back to the center of the island, searching for the Via Fuorlovado and the famous Aurora Café. The crowd has thinned out somewhat as midday approaches. Temperatures rise. You are beginning to perspire and you’re tired from walking halfway around the island. You see the café a short distance away as you shield your eyes from the sun high up in the sky.

Suddenly, you hear the blare of police sirens coming closer. A trio of police cars convene at the intersection only yards away from where you and your friends are standing. You try to move your feet but it seems your legs are planted on the roadway. A squad of polizia, rifles at the ready, surround you. They shout at you: ‘Alzate le mani! Siete in arresto! Non muovetevi!’ ”

“Get me out of here, please!”

“Close your eyes. Stage manager, please bring up the lights. Now, open your eyes. You are back at The Lodge.”

“What was the idea? That wasn’t funny, sweetheart—” Sal bellowed.

“Don’t move! FBI. You’re under arrest. Cuff ‘em.” A gaggle of FBI agents, wearing bulletproof vests that displayed FBI on the back, rushed forward to place handcuffs on Sal and his bodyguards.

“On what charge?” Sal indignantly asked.

“International money-laundering. Read them their rights.”

As their Miranda rights were intoned to them, I came down from the stage and joined Elena, Jeremy, Aaron, and Michael Ross, Jeremy’s cousin from the Southern District US Attorney’s office, at a table some distance from the activities.

“Looks like we got here just in time,” Michael was saying.

“Do you usually accompany the agents on a collar?” Jeremy asked.

“Nah, it can get hairy. Gunshots and everything. But this was a big deal. I might even get a mention in the papers.”

They started to escort Sal and his bodyguards out of the room. Sal looked over his shoulder at me.

“I coulda made you a star, baby. Vegas, TV, maybe even movies!”

“So I gained back The Lodge…” Aaron began.

“No small thanks to Lindsey here,” emphasized Elena.

“And lost a fiancée. David Kellerman told Amanda he’d disown her if she intended to marry me. Sorry, she said, but she’s accustomed to a certain level of lifestyle. She’s going to spend the next month on Capri to lick her wounds. Wonder where she got that idea…”

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” I offered.

“The worst thing is that Kellerman’s giving up on the idea of building a shopping mall in The Catskills. Too complicated to put together all the elements. I was hoping he’d make me an offer for The Lodge. Bless my father’s memory but, as you can see, I’m really bad at managing a resort. Amanda tells me he’s jumping in on building something called a Galleria in SoCal. Whatever that is. Anyway, I’m going to turn in. Been a long, long day. Good night, ladies.”

Elena and I were sitting on a bench among the wisterias in the garden. It was after 11 PM. I had just done two shows that evening. To capacity audiences, I must point out. Jeremy had gone back to the city with his cousin Michael and expected to stay overnight in Michael’s bachelor pad. So it was just Elena and me.

“You know, it’s time for you to become a real girl, Lindsey,” announced Elena in a warm tone.

“I only wish I could.”

“Well, I gave you breasts and you have to admit you’ve developed feminine curves, don’t you?”

“And I’m so grateful to you, Elena. So, so grateful. But you and I know that whatever spell you cast on me and everyone who sees me is going to vanish when I go back to school next month. I’m not upset about it. You’ve given me a summer I’ll cherish in memory as long as I live.” I burst into tears. Elena hugged me and cooed into my ear.

“That spell, as you call it, won’t go away, dear.” She held me by my shoulders and looked directly into my teary eyes. “I can make you a real girl. I have the ability to do that.”

“You do?”

“It was an ability that was given to me when I was about your age. By a real witch. Back in Romania. In the village I was born and raised in. But I can only use this power once and then I can no longer have it. I have waited over five decades to select the perfect candidate. You are that candidate, Lindsey.”

“No, no. This can’t be real. You’re teasing me.”

“It’s real, dear. It’s happening as we speak. Do you feel it?”

My entire body was beginning to tingle. It wasn’t painful. I could feel parts of my body changing, being transformed. I looked into Elena’s eyes as the changes swept over me.

“It takes a little while. In the meantime, let me tell you how I came about my…special talents. You see I was very much like you when I was your age. Very much…”