“Hmm…that should be easy to find out. I imagine Mr. Cottonwood and his wife and perhaps their children. What was the daughter’s name? Calpurnia?” I snapped away with my phone, pretending I didn’t know. I was not a skilled liar. I squatted next to the small white crosses, hoping my question didn’t give me away.
“No, it couldn’t be her. Probably her parents, though.” His large hands touched the stone crevices, feeling where they met so perfectly.
Genuinely curious, I asked, “Why couldn’t it be? Did she get married and move away?”
“No. She went missing—sometime in the 1850s, I believe.” I felt liked someone kicked me in the gut, but Ashland didn’t seem to notice. He continued, “It was a serious scandal for the time. They looked for her for years, even made some accusations, but no one was ever arrested. Lots of people have tried to discover her whereabouts; even my mother was obsessed with finding her. It consumed her life her last few years. I’m sure she often thought of her when she came out here.”
I heard the sadness in his voice; this obviously touched him deeply. “It is a riveting story,” I said. “Young heiress goes missing. She must have been something of a celebrity in her time.”
He nodded. “I expect she was. And Miss Cottonwood wasn’t just wealthy; she was extremely wealthy, the heir of two fortunes, the daughter of two established families.”
Although standing in the woods with Ashland was many a girl’s dream come true, all I could think of was getting back to the apartment to pore over the first journal, Calpurnia’s journal. I had to know what happened to her. We stood looking at the mausoleum and the crosses. Except for the buzzing of mosquitos, all was quiet. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Ashland. This is an amazing find. I’ll have to come back with a decent camera.”
He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his hand. “You’re welcome. We’d better get back. As hot as it is, it will probably rain soon.”
As we trekked back to the house, my mind raced through the possibilities. I now had two missions: find both Muncie and Calpurnia. Where could she be? My mind naturally went to the most likely suspect, her father. I knew his brutality firsthand.
“Did you hear me?” Ashland asked.
“I’m sorry. No, I didn’t. What did you say?”
He sighed a little. “I asked you to dinner.”
I shrugged. “Sure, but I’m not much of a cook if it’s potluck.”
He laughed out loud. “What? Why would I ask you to dinner and ask you to cook?”
My eyes widened. “Oh, dinner…so, not for everyone…just me and you? I thought you…um…”
Ashland chuckled. “Wow, I feel like I’m in high school here. Listen, Carrie Jo, don’t feel compelled to say yes because you work for me. And contrary to what you might think, I’m not usually this forward.”
I felt my brow furrow. “I don’t think anything at all. You just caught me off guard a little—I guess I was daydreaming. I would like that, but I have to do something first. Can I get back to you?” I smiled at him.
“Okay…are you seeing someone?” Ashland looked anxious, but I didn’t want to explain that I needed to “break up” with William. Even though William and I had kissed just once, I felt like I owed him some honesty, if nothing else. Carrie Jo Jardine was not the kind of girl to two-time.
“No, it’s not like that. Can I get back to you?” With that, we finally made it to the back door.
“Sure.” He gave me a nod and didn’t stay long after that—I hoped I hadn’t scared him off.
Mia greeted me with, “Gee, you guys were gone for an hour,” apparently forgetting her earlier theatrics with Ashland. Of course, I couldn’t wait to show her the pictures. Her eyes lit up. “Ooh…that is so cool. Okay, I’m wearing jeans tomorrow, and you have to promise to take me out there. You know what, let me do some checking. I bet we can find out who’s buried there.”
I rubbed the sweat off my forehead with a paper towel. “What do you think about the little crosses? Children? Pets?”
“Probably children, but we may never know without digging them up. Hey, before I forget, don’t make plans for tonight. I’ve got a surprise for you later.” Mia pressed her red lips into a smug smile.
I chuckled. “Oh, Lord, I’m worried about what that could mean. Sure that sounds great.” I was happy to think we could get our friendship back on track.
By the end of the workday, we had assigned furniture to three of the rooms downstairs, deciding that the Augusta Evans book collection would be perfect for the ladies’ parlor. The men’s parlor would house rare pipes and a small collection of pistols from before the Civil War. The future Seven Sisters Museum was beginning to take shape. It was a good feeling to see that, to be a part of the restoration. The following week, I would be meeting with someone from Mobile’s African-American Museum. Ashland had made it clear that he wanted this important facet of antebellum life highlighted. We would have access to some photographs and artifacts, which I planned to distribute throughout the house and the other buildings that were to be reconstructed here.
* * *
Just a few hours later, Mia and I were walking down nearby Dauphin Street. Flickering gas lamps welcomed us into a candlelit restaurant called Bevere’s. I loved everything about it, especially the high ceilings and proper linens. After some back-and-forth on what to order, I had to ask, “Mia, what happened today?”
She looked up from her shrimp cocktail. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what happened with Ashland. The whole ‘You’re the boss’ thing. He doesn’t seem like your type at all.”
Her face was blank, and she said in a low voice, “He’s Ashland Stuart. He’s everyone’s type. He’s also the handsomest guy I’ve met in a very long time. Not to mention he’s uber-rich. And what does that mean? ‘He’s not my type.’ In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a type.”
“I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or hurt your feelings. I was just wondering.”
She popped a shrimp in her mouth and chewed. “No worries, doll. I gave it a try, and it didn’t work out. No biggie. Hurry up and eat, though. We have to be at our destination by 8 p.m. I know it’s a Thursday night, and I promise not to keep you out too long.”
We chit-chatted a little after that. I asked about her parents, and she confessed that she hadn’t seen them in over six months. I missed them; I had spent a lot of time at their house during college. Thirty minutes later, we were standing in line at Grand Central Station, a bustling nightclub, waiting for a spot at the bar. It was hopping, even on a weeknight. Two spots together finally came open, and we slid onto vinyl-covered stools. Before I could ask what was happening, the lights dimmed, and a spotlight hit the stage.
It was William.
Chapter 10
The audience clapped and cheered, but I couldn’t move. This certainly had been a day of surprises. William sat on a wooden stool in the center of the stage and pulled the mic close. He strummed his guitar and played “The Heart of Love,” his most popular song. He had a brilliant smile that he used often, along with a perfect voice. And in just a few verses, the audience was in love. You could see it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. He was my friend but nothing else, no matter how badly he wanted to be—or Mia wanted him to be. I didn’t understand why she was so invested in my relationship with him. I could feel her give me a sidelong look, but I refused to look at her.
The second song into his set, William spotted us at the bar. I gave him a weak smile, and Mia waved. He had the audience swaying in their chairs, especially the ladies, and why not? His shoulder-length dark hair and green eyes captivated many of them. Once his performance ended, William worked his way to the bar, stopping to talk to some enthusiastic fans along the way.
“Mia! Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered to her. This wasn’t how I wanted to do this, face to face.
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Hey! What did you think?” Willia
m hugged Mia and then me.
“You were brilliant, William. They love you, and we do too. Right, CJ?”
He smiled even more broadly, and I offered, “I love the new song, the one at the end.”
“Thanks!”
After an awkward silence, I asked, “So, when did you get in?”
“I was going to call and let you know, but then Mia said we should make it a surprise. I got in last night, and I’m booked for the next two weeks. Maybe longer, if the Mobile crowd likes me. How’s the house? When do I get a tour?”
Mia had headed to the dance floor, no doubt leaving the barstool for William.
“Listen, William, can we talk? You know, outside? It’s kind of loud in here.”
With a sigh, he agreed, and we walked out of Grand Central and down the brick sidewalk. To the casual observer, we might have looked like a loving couple, me in my summer dress, William looking smart in his crisp gray shirt and black dress pants. I couldn’t remember seeing him dressed up before. “You look nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing something besides jeans.”
“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.
She had a neat, slanted penmanship. The faded letters looked light brown and were almost gone in other places. I thought about putting on my gloves, but I wanted to feel the book, feel connected to her. With a deep breath, I opened the book and walked into her world…
Chapter 11
April 20, 1850
Dear Diary,
Mrs. White had her puppies all over the bottom step of the staircase. I suspect she was trying to carry herself up the spiral staircase to my room but the climb was simply too much for her and her enormous belly. I am Thankful that it was Hooney who found the scattered litter and not my father or someone else who may have been tempted to drown them in the river. I am happy to report that the new family is safely ensconced in my armoire. What a sight to see all those precious, white faces in my old hatbox! I expect they will call the space home for a while, at least for a month or so.
Today, I prayed in earnest that Mother’s baby would arrive soon. I’m loath to name the baby “sister” or “brother,” as I hear from the slaves that this is bad luck. I prayed extra last night to break any curses I may have spoken over it in the past. How wonderfully entertaining it will be to have a sweet-smelling baby to sing to and share my stories with! (Hooney snickered at me and said, “Babies is a lot of things, but sweet-smelling ain’t one of them.” I rolled my eyes at her and got censured by Mother.) Honestly, the True and Genuine Reason for my prayer was for Mother. This will be her fourth try at having a son and Heir for my father, with thus far no fair results except for me. As I am surely to marry soon to whomever pleases my father’s fancy, an heir will certainly be needed, and no girl either. Mr. Cottonwood wants a strong, strapping son to take the reins of Seven Sisters, not a disappointing, spinster daughter. So I pray and hope for only the best news that Mother will safely deliver a boy and that I will marry in the Fullness of Time; however, I am careful not to speak that aloud.
Dear Cousin Isla is a great comfort to me. She has a great wit and knows more dances than I and is a far better singer. She says things that make me blush and scolds the new upstairs house girl constantly. I do reprimand her, but sometimes I wish I could be more like her, free and unencumbered by worry and duty. She told me her father has been long dead but her mother is my own Mother’s dear sister. I have never had the occasion to meet Aunt Olivia, but I’m sure that, like Isla, she is a great beauty. It is a boon to have someone to talk with, and I will forever be in Uncle Louis’ debt for bringing her to me. How often of late I have poured my heart out to her. How comforting to be assured that all will be well, that a husband, handsome and charming, will be found for me, even if I am tall, flat-chested and not musical in the least. We have pledged to marry close kin so we could be near to one another for the rest of our lives.
I had hoped to spend time with Uncle Louis today, but again he’s been riding with Father. They are taking a survey of the land, the improvements to the riverfront and the extended quarters for the slaves. I have barely seen my uncle on this trip, but he assures me we shall continue our conversation as soon as possible.
Mr. Ball came to give his regards to my cousin but could not be compelled to stay for lunch, strange as that may seem. I wondered that he did not, as I’ve never known him to pass by a plate or bowl without dipping his hand in it. I suspected that he may have had intentions to court my cousin, but as she had no one to whom he could present his request formally, he simply dithered about without saying much of anything before excusing himself. I suspect he will return at a later time. Isla says she would rather be thrown off the top of Seven Sisters than be courted by or married to Reginald Ball. I had to laugh, but of course I did scold her for such a foolish notion.
April 21, 1850
Dear Diary,
What a blissful, delightful day! This morning, I received three calling cards, one belonging to Captain David Garrett! How h
appy I am! Although I was not able to formally greet my guest, Cousin Isla assures me that he asked after my health and well-being multiple times. And since he “Could not speak to the lady himself,” he chose to write me a note…
Miss Cottonwood,
It pleases me to thank you once again for your kindness toward me during my hour of need. Truly I have not seen such great hospitality as the cordiality I received at Seven Sisters. I feel ashamed that you had to rescue me and that I was not rescuing you, dear lady. I pray that we shall meet again and soon so that I may properly show my gratitude toward you and your family.
Your faithful friend,
David Garrett, Captain
Words cannot express the joy I felt receiving this note from the Captain. How I nearly fainted when I read it! Cousin Isla assures me that he trembled while he wrote, hoping to convey his deepest thanks without offending in an unseemly manner. She told me that she encouraged him to speak honestly, to confess his true heart in the matter. Although his written message was succinct, Cousin Isla assures me of the deep levels of sincerity he displayed. I feel sure that somehow, some way, I shall see the Captain again and give him my equally solicitous esteem. I took the liberty of returning his note with my own:
Dear Captain Garrett,
Thank you for your kind words. You are most welcome for the care that we provided you. I encourage you to make yourself available to my father, Mr. Jeremiah Cottonwood, at your convenience, sir, so that we may talk further.
Kind regards,
C. Cottonwood
How I labored over the note! I tuck it inside my gown every day, hoping for the opportunity to present it to my new friend, with all discretion, of course.
The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection Page 8
