Page 6 of The Magic We Made

That’s all I need to hear. After promising that we’ll do drinks later, I hang up, then glance through my living room window.

The paper plate I’d left by the front porch is blowing listlessly in the unseasonably warm breeze. There’s no sign of the tuna that had weighed it down—or of the stray cat that I assume has eaten it. Everything seems quiet over at Ash’s place... for now.

Which is another thing: Why did they pickAsh’splace to rob, out of all the houses around the lake? It’s certainly a nice house—larger than mine and more recently renovated—but otherwise almost exactly the same.

So whyhim? What’s so special about Ash Merit?

Ash

Well, this sucks.

Not that I don’t get why Mrs. Baumgarten is so upset. My wallet’s been stolen a few times, and while I wouldn’t say that left me feeling “violated” like the old lady is saying she feels, it was still a huge pain in the ass.

But Rochelle at the rental place says the old lady was really scared... scared enough to go next door to the neighbor’s for help.

Just my luck that the neighbor she chose wasFrancesca Giovanni.

As if this isn’t bad enough, Mrs. Baumgarten then tried to get Francesca to do an exorcism or something. Apparently, she thought Francesca was a parapsychologist, and that the place is haunted.

Francesca Giovanni. The old lady askedFrancesca Giovannito do an exorcism.

Francesca Giovanni is a doctor. I know because I found her pageonline—not that I was stalking her, or anything. I was just curious. She’s my neighbor, after all.

I’ve overheard her a few times when she and her ex—who I like to call Dr. Dick, because he is one—were out on their back deck, drinking coffee or grilling or whatever, and didn’t notice me over on the deck next door, thanks to all the trees. They were always talking about scientific studies and books I’ve never even heard of. Never once did I hear them talking about tacos, or other people, or whatever new spy drama just dropped on Netflix like my friends and I do. Francesca’s clearly very smart.

But Dr. Giovanni not only has brains, she has beauty, too, with those huge dark eyes and all that long brown hair. Too bad she wears it pulled back so tightly into a single braid—although it’s a good style for a swimmer. I’ve caught sight of her in her bright red swimsuit a few times, heading down the steep wooded hill in the back of our houses to the lake for her daily early morning laps. I know I shouldn’t look, but I can’t help myself. Ihaveto watch as she dives into the water, then swims so hard for Center Island in her very functional and not-at-all-sexy swimsuit, that long, tight braid trailing behind her.

I don’t know what Dr. Dick was thinking, leaving a woman like that. I heard he had a piece on the side all along, and that he’s run off with her to sail around the world or some shit.

This doesn’t surprise me, since Dr. Dick is anactualdick. I’m positive he’s the one who snuck over and cut the wires to my outdoor speakers—twice. I’m glad Francesca got rid of him. The first thing he said to me that morning we met was, “Please don’t let your Japanese knotweed creep into my yard. It’s an invasive species, you know.”

I have no idea what Japanese knotweed is, and I don’t care. AllI know is that “his” yard looks a lot better since Dr. Dick went away. Francesca’s obviously a fan of sustainable landscaping, since she seems to be letting the place go back to its natural state—leafy and wild, like the woods in the nature preserve. It looks great.

Almost as great as she does.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t even know I’m alive. But she’s going to know who I am now, thanks to Mrs. Baumgarten.

Is this the way I was hoping to meet Francesca Giovanni? No, it is not.

I don’t even know why I’m stressing so much over what she thinks of me. She’s not exactly my type. For one thing, she’s way too serious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.

And for another, she’s way too tall. I know it’s sizeist, but I’ve always liked it when a girl has to tilt her head up to look at me. The best are those small, giggly girls you can lift up and sling over your shoulder and carry around—which is definitelynotFrancesca Giovanni. She’s nearly as tall as I am. And somehow she gives off the impression that if any guy ever tried to lift her up, she’d knee him in the balls.

Which I’m embarrassed to say only makes me want to get to know her more. I love a challenge. And I’ve been told (by my ex, Nicole) that I’m a pretty charming guy. “Funny and charming” were her exact words.

But I’ve never had a chance to show Francesca my charmingorfunny side because she’s never so much as acknowledged my existence, even though I’ve tried so hard to get her to notice me. I thought for sure when I bought the truck she’d say something to me. Everyone notices that truck.

But not Francesca.

Oh, well. I’ll head up to West Harbor as soon as I can andapologize to her. Maybe I’ll even bring her flowers or muffins or something. Isn’t that what neighbors do?

But first I have to find Emma Bridle.

I know it’s weird for a financial advisor to have a side hustle, but I was born with what my friends and I jokingly refer to as “a particular set of skills.” I’ve always been good at finding lost things—people, pets, wallets, keys, paperwork, you name it. If it’s lost, I’m going to find it, and everyone back at Olympus knows it.

Which is why I wasn’t too surprised when my boss Guy burst into my office a few weeks back, slammed a copy of theNew York Postonto my desk, and said, “Find her,” while pointing to Emma’s photo on the front page.

I’d lifted the paper and looked the photo over. Because I love a challenge so much, if someone—particularly my boss—asks me to find someone, I’m never going to say no—at least, not right away.