In any case, he had hardly come for the scenery, thank the Lord. He’d come to look for Helen or to satisfy himself that what was left of her was still at the bottom of the Pacific. On an island this size, he was sure he could get the task done in a day.

He unpacked, meticulously hanging his clothes so that each garment was aligned precisely one inch from the next. He set out his toiletries, including his triple-milled soap. He never used the amenities offered in hotels. Even the idea of it revolted him.

And last, he set the framed photograph of his wife on the bureau. He leaned over, kissed the curved bow of her mouth through the glass.

“If you’re here, darling Helen, I’ll find you.”

On his way out, he made a reservation for dinner. The only meal he found acceptable to eat in a hotel room was breakfast.

He stepped out, turned left, just as Nell, with her two bags of groceries, swung around the end of the block to the right, toward home.

It was, Nell was sure, the happiest morning of her life. The sky was silver, with sweeps and rises of rose and gold and deep red. Her lawn was carpeted with leaves that would crunch merrily underfoot and had left the trees bare and spooky. Which was perfect for an island Halloween.

She had a man sleeping in her bed who had shown his appreciation for a good pot roast in a very satisfactory way.

Muffins were baking, the wind was shivering, and she was prepared to face her demons.

She would be leaving her little cottage behind soon, and that she would miss. But the idea of setting up housekeeping with Zack made up for it.

They would spend Christmas together, she thought. Maybe even be married by then if all the legal tangles could be unraveled.

She wanted to be married outside, in the air. It was impractical, but it was what she wanted. She would wear a long dress, of velvet. Blue velvet. And carry a spray of white flowers. The people she had come to know would all be there to bear witness.

While she daydreamed, the cat meowed piteously.

“Diego.” She bent down, stroked him. He was no kitten now but a sleek young cat. “I forgot to feed you. I’m very scattered of brain today,” she told him. “I’m in love, and I’m getting married. You’ll come to live with us in our house by the sea, and make friends with Lucy.”

She got out his kibble, filling his bowl while he wound excitedly through her legs.

“A woman who talks to her cat could be considered strange.”