Not much doing at shop today. Viv and I made a joint call. She seemed amiable enough, both in the car and at the prospect's home. Maybe I've blown one or two tantrums out of all proportion. Wouldn't be the first time.

Just after everybody else went home I finally, finally shoveled out the time to chat with Casey. It was mid-morning in Noumea.

“Just what do you mean, ‘boyfriend'?” she asked. She was adversarial, but not combative.

“Boyfriend, as in male counterpart,” I parried.

“You've gone goofy. Carm says you're spending way too much time at your shop. I don't have a boyfriend. Sure, I like Julian, but he's off in the States, trying to…”

“…secure funding for Stargazing 401. I remember. More likely he's pursuing gastronomical studies at every fine restaurant in he can find.”

“Ringo. Billy Ringo, OK? And he's not even really my boyfriend. We mostly just hang out and go wreck-diving together.”

“You'll wreck his heart when Julian comes back.”

Casey laughed. “Maybe. But that's another sport altogether, isn't it.”

“I've never found it to be. Neither have you.” Something was under her skin…or maybe she was just playing me. Some days it's hard to tell with this one.

“Your friend Dakota does.”

“No, she's more of a carjacker.”

“I know, Crystal . I know. Lighten up a bit. I'm just teasing. Dakota was great to me when I visited you guys at Smith when I was a senior. Besides, if I do break a few hearts, it's just incidental,” she said.

“Odds are 70-30 it'll be you ends up with a broken heart.”

“Don't you listen to the financial planners? ‘Past performance is no guarantee of future results', my friend.”

I switched gears. “So, where's the new guy from?”