I forced myself to smile down at the folded piece of paper. I’d just write him right back and tell him how pleased I was that he was better and that he’d renewed his old relationship with Judith. Of course, I hadn’t been happy when he was dating Selah Pumphrey, a human real estate dealer, because we had only recently broken up, and I knew he didn’t really care about her. Now I was determined to be happy for Bill. I was not going to be one of those awful people who gets all bent out of shape when the ex acquires a replacement. That was hypocritical and selfish to the extreme, and I hoped I was a better person than that. At least I was determined to provide a good imitation of such a person.

“Okay,” I said to my coffee mug. “That turned out great.”

“Would you rather talk to me than to your coffee?” Claude asked.

I’d heard feet on the creaky stairs through the open window, and I’d registered that another brain was up and working, but I hadn’t foreseen that he’d join me on the porch.

“You got in late,” I said. “You want me to get you a cup of coffee? I made plenty.”

“No, thank you. I’ll have some pineapple juice in a minute. It’s a beautiful day.” Claude was shirtless. At least he was wearing drawstring pants with the Dallas Cowboys all over them. Ha! He wished!

“Yeah,” I said, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. Claude raised one perfectly shaped black eyebrow.

“Who’s down in the dumps?” he asked.

“No, I’m very happy.”

“Yes, I can see the joy written all over your face. What’s the matter, Cousin?”

“I did get the check from Claudine’s estate. God bless her. That was so generous.” I looked up at Claude, putting all my sincerity into my face. “Claude, I hope you’re not mad at me. That’s just . . . so much money. I haven’t got a clue what I want to do with it.”

Claude shrugged. “That was what Claudine wished. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Claude, you’ll have to excuse me being surprised that you care. I would’ve said you didn’t give a flying eff how I felt. Now you’re being all sweet with Hunter, and you’re offering to help me clean out the attic.”

“Maybe I’m developing a cousinly concern for you.” He raised one eyebrow.

“Maybe pigs will fly.”

He laughed. “I’m trying to be more human,” he confessed. “Since I’ll live out my long existence among humans, apparently, I’m trying to be more . . .”

“Likable?” I supplied.

“Ouch,” he said, but he wasn’t really hurt. Being hurt would presuppose that he cared about my opinion. And that was something you couldn’t be taught, right?