“Well, whose fault is that?” A playful grin spread across his face and then quickly disappeared. “Uh-oh, you don’t look too happy, CJ. What’s up? I have a feeling I already know.”

I stopped and just blurted it out. “William, you are a wonderful man, and I think of you as a friend, but…” I took a deep breath, “I can’t say that I feel anything except friendship toward you. I hope that you didn’t come all this way because of me. I am sorry.”

William’s green eyes flashed, and he looked like I had slapped him in the face. “You think I came down here for you?”

I sputtered, “I just assumed that you…”

“I told you months ago that I was sending some demos out. Thanks for listening. Look, I get that you don’t like me like that, but I think I’ll live.” William had taken a step away from me. I’d never seen him angry with me before. “Listen, I have to go—the next set is starting soon. Let’s just…” He raised his hands in the air and then turned and walked away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk in downtown Mobile at night.

Pausing for just a moment, I decided to walk home. Humiliation and confusion rose like waves inside me. Riding back with Mia wasn’t a good idea right now, and she had coerced me to leave my car at home. The only other people I knew in town were Ashland, Bette and Matthews. It didn’t seem appropriate to call any of them.

Eventually, anger fueled my stride. I didn’t think much about walking by myself until I reached the end of the street. Dauphin Street had been busy and well-lit, but the surrounding side streets were lined with oaks that kept them shadowy. Discreetly, I slid my hand in my purse and felt for my phone just in case I needed it. But really, what was I going to do with a cell phone? Other than a catcall from a passing car and the occasional fellow pedestrian, nothing happened. I climbed the stairs to my apartment and unlocked the door. I was met with a blast of cool air. The new air conditioning unit was working beautifully.

My phone dinged—a message from Mia, but I didn’t bother opening it. My heart said something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Instead of checking in with my old “friend,” I typed in Ashland’s cell number and sent him a message with shaking fingers. It simply said, “How is your weekend looking?” with a smiley face. Not a minute later, he texted me back, “Great! Dinner tomorrow night?” I tapped in, “Sounds great. 7pm okay?” I got a smiley face back. “Oh, Lord, what am I doing?” I groaned as I threw the phone on the bed. “Am I actually going to date the boss?”

It was still early for me, and I couldn’t go to sleep without investigating the journal I had smuggled from work. I kicked off my shoes, slid into my pajamas and snuggled into the soft cushioned chair next to my bed. It was deep and perfect for curling up in a ball. I flipped on the lamp and took the book in my hands. I examined it cover to cover. It was a leather-bound journal with an engraved monogram in the center. The letters were faded—might have been a “C” or maybe even an “O” or a “G,” but I knew whose it was. I opened the cover and confirmed it: Miss Calpurnia Christine Cottonwood.