Page 56 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

"It just felt like the right thing to do."

"It did."

She smiled.

"I have a feeling you're going to fit in beautifully here."

I returned the smile.

"I hope so."

Camille stepped outside, and I followed her. She walked slowly across the street. When she was halfway to her house, she stopped and looked back. Our eyes met. She waved, and I smiled and waved back.

Some games are easy to spot. Others begin with just a smile. This one had already started.

Chapter Seven

Maci

The leather cover was soft from years of use. I traced the worn edge with my thumb and opened the journal to a page I had read more times than I wanted to admit. The ink had faded in spots, but the words remained clear, only marked by time. Still, I read the entry again.

Sometimes I think a woman can sense another woman before she even sees her. I can’t really explain it. It feels like someone is waiting just out of view.

I swallowed. Years ago, I underlined the next paragraph.

He says I’m imagining things. Maybe he’s right. But perfume doesn’t linger in empty rooms, and lipstick doesn’t appear on coffee mugs I never used.

I closed my eyes. There was no date on the page because she had torn it out. I would never know if she did it to protect herself or someone else. I turned to another entry, a shorter one. The handwriting slanted across the page, as if she hurried to finish before someone came in.

She smiled at me today, like we shared a secret. The unsettling part is, I think we do.

My fingers tightened around the journal. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I finally had to breathe in. I turned another page.

Thick black ink covered almost everything, but one sentence was still readable.

If anything ever happens to me, trust your instincts or just read. I write everything down.

A lump formed in my throat. I closed the diary and rested my hands on the cover. Even after all these years, those words still made my chest ache.

A knock on the open office door pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and saw Zaire in the doorway, already dressed for work and holding a green juice.

"Have you been in here all morning?"

I glanced at the journal and quietly closed it.

"I lost track of time."

He paused, glancing at the leather cover long enough to recognize it. Then he walked in and set his juice on the corner of my desk.

"You read it again."

He wasn’t really asking. I nodded.

"I couldn’t sleep."

He looked at me for a moment before speaking.

"I woke up around three."