I felt my cheeks burning. “It was something Cromwell wrote.” I had memorized the few bars he had composed in the coffee house. It was my new favorite. “Cromwell composed that?” “He’s a genius, Mama. And I’m not just saying that or exaggerating. He can pretty much play any instrument. It’s why he’s at Jefferson. Lewis invited him and gave him a scholarship. He was something of a child prodigy. Some say he’s a modern-day Mozart.” “Then now I see it.” She joined me on the stool. “What?” “Why you’ve fallen for him.” Her arm linked in mine. “The way you love music. You were always going to find
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