he put a hundred-dollar bill , the back end of my finder 's fee , onto my desk . furious at them both , she spun around and left . the wall calendar was the first reminder of why i 'd run off the rails last night . she 'd been telling the truth about the fields and set off into them , admiring the neat rows of grapes that were starting to climb their posts . `` it 's for my sister , '' he says . but there has to be magic as well . 