I settled into the driver’s seat and glanced over at my furry friend. Two and a half years ago, Eddie had attached himself to me when I’d gone for a walk on an unseasonably warm April day. The fact that this attachment had happened in a cemetery, next to the final resting place of Alonzo Tillotson, born 1847 and died 1926, should have meant that the cat’s name would be Alonzo. But Alonzo is a very long name to call a cat, especially since they never come when called, and the name Eddie just fit. He was a very Eddie-like cat.

“Nothing yet?” Julia asked as she buckled herself into the passenger’s seat.

“More specifics, please.” I started the engine, dropped the transmission into gear, and eased the thirty-one-foot-long vehicle out of the library’s back parking lot. “Nothing as in nothing ventured, nothing gained?” I started warming to my theme. “Wasn’t it Maya Angelou who said ‘Ain’t nothin’ to it, but to do it’? And don’t forget Emily Dickinson’s poem that ‘Saying nothing sometimes says the most’? Or—”

Julia flung out her long arm and pointed in the direction of my hands. “As in no engagement ring.”

I looked at my naked finger. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

Fun fact: When a Broadway actress wants her tone to be sarcastic, the sarcasm is so thick it’s almost visible.

“How long ago did he propose?” She tsked at me. “Without a ring, can you trust the man?”

I thought for a moment, then gave a heavy sigh. “That’s a good question.”

Julia’s head whipped around fast enough to send her long strawberry blond braid flying. “It is?” Her mouth dropped open.

“Well, no,” I said. “Rafe is the most trustworthy man on the planet. But it was fun to see that shocked look on your face.”

“Huh.” Julia’s feet tapped the top of Eddie’s carrier. “Did you hear that, my fine feline friend? Minnie caught me by surprise. Who would have thunk it?”

“Mrr.”

The two of them carried on a conversation that didn’t include me, so I started thinking about Rafe Niswander, my fiancé. He’d proposed just over a month ago, but we hadn’t taken any steps toward the actual wedding since then. This was mostly because Rafe was a middle school principal and right now, at the beginning of the school year, he was busy with zillions of meetings, which left him with little time to think about how and when we wanted to get married.

“See that?” Julia asked, nodding in my direction, but still looking at the carrier. “She’s thinking about Rafe.”

“Mrr?”

“How can I tell? Soft eyes, goofy smile, warm heart. All of that.”

“Mrr.”