He laughed and left to go to work.

Despite his warning, I was barely able to do anything but think of Garland Foxworth. In fact, I ran back upstairs after my father had left and began constructing a letter to Garland. I took out his card, handling it as if it were a precious stone.

I can’t sound like a lovesick young girl, I thought, and began writing, tearing up one opening sentence after another until I decided the best way to do the letter was to sound quite formal. I even referred to the business-letter form my father used. When I looked at the letter after that, however, I thought it was too cold and impersonal. What if it discouraged him enough for him not to answer or care? What, indeed, would I do at boring Great-aunt Nettie Lloyd’s home then? I decided to permit myself some words that would certainly build his ego and confirm I was not looking for a mere acquaintance.

Dear Mr. Foxworth [in a formal letter, I just couldn’t call him Garland],

I am anticipating visiting my aunt, indeed, sometime within the next few weeks. As I promised, I am informing you of such a possibility. I am not that familiar with Charlottesville, so I do not know if my aunt’s home is indeed close enough for you to consider a visit or not.

I would like to thank you for spending your time with me at the Wexler gala and especially for having the patience to teach me the waltz. I so too enjoyed our little getaway to the gardens.

If I hear back from you before I confirm my visit to Charlottesville, I will give you the date.

Sincerely yours,

Corrine Dixon

I had read about women putting a scent on their stationery but was afraid to do it on a first letter. I kept it out and read and reread it at least a dozen times before finally getting it into an envelope. I was tempted to seal it with a kiss for good luck but quickly considered that something most of the childish girls my age would do. This had to be lifted out of the realm of a young girl’s crush.

If Garland received it a day or so after my great-aunt received her letter, I would hope he would respond immediately.

All my life, at least my years since I considered myself no longer a little girl, I dreamed of having just such a romance as this. That it had come so quickly and with a man this handsome and accomplished almost made me swoon with excitement. The trick now was to keep all that away from my mother’s inquisitive and critical gaze. If she knew what I really intended to accomplish by visiting my great-aunt Nettie, my mother would surely forbid me to take a single step toward the journey.