She had already sunk into a world where she stood before an old, large, wooden door, locked shut.

As hard as she tried to force it open, it remained determined to keep her outside—outside of what she didn’t know and that frightened her even in her dream. Then she remembered she held the diary. Lifting the book, she held it against the portal, and in an instant, the door swung away, creaking and angry at being disturbed. What lay beyond was wonderful, and even before she entered she knew this was a place she would never want to leave.

But leave Nem did, when she awoke, though she only recalled the door. She remembered the diary and pulled back the covers to check the bed but found nothing. For a moment her heart erupted in a gallop and she couldn’t move quick enough to next check her bedside table.

There it was, back in the drawer, nestled away—safe, thank goodness—and she could breathe again. During the night she must have returned her magical partner to its usual place. It could stay there for the moment because she had no plans to use it anytime soon.

Serendipity could take care of her now. For she simply knew, no matter how many doors stood in her way, she would find a key, and that key would not be in the shape of a little green book.

54

Many questions cross William’s mind as he stood there observing Orelia with the vagrant. The book was of significance; he’d worked that out. His mind whisked a multitude of ideas around inside his head.

Why was Orelia giving money to people like this man? Was the book like a genie in the bottle granting wishes to its owner? If this was true, why did she wish him such a career disaster? Why not just wish for her own success and leave him out of it? What happened to live and let live? An argument over creative differences was all their disagreement had been.

Had he lost his sanity? That thought occurred to him every day since this had begun. Each idea his brain presented felt fanciful and wild, but he argued with himself quoting Occam’s Razor: all things being equal, the simple answer was more likely to be correct than the complex ones.

So the answer here was she’d taken his successful career and swapped his out for hers. And it had something to do with that book.

William noted how Orelia examined the beggars as if she was a zoologist studying a wild animal. She paused, tilting her head sideways, as if considering an object. Then she wrote on a small notepad (not the green book) and tore off the page before returning the pad to her bag.

She leaned in and nodded to the man as she placed money and the note into his collection can. The beggar considered this donation, then looked up at her, his face visibly brightened. Without speaking to him again, Orelia turned and walked away in the direction from which she had arrived.