Tully stared up at Mrs. M. For once, she felt like the older of them, the one with more experience. The Mularkeys all saw love as a durable, reliable thing, easy to recognize. Tully might be young, but she knew they were wrong. Love could be more fragile than a sparrow’s bone. But she wouldn’t say it out loud. Instead, all she said was, “Maybe.”

Overnight, Tully became a media sensation in Seattle. Newspaperman Emmett Watson took a break from ranting about the Californication of Washington State to write a column about courage under fire and how proud we should be of Tallulah Hart’s commitment to the news. Radio station KJR dedicated a whole day of rock ’n’ roll songs to the “news chick who used a microphone to stop a robbery,” and even Almost Live, the local comedy show, aired a segment that made fun of the bumbling robber and showed Tully in a Wonder Woman outfit.

Flowers and balloons poured into her hospital room, many of them signed by people who normally made the news themselves. By Wednesday, she’d had to start donating the beautiful bouquets and arrangements to other patients. The nurses in charge of her learned how to be bodyguards and bouncers in addition to their normal jobs.

“So, you’re the genius here. What do I do?” She sat up in bed, going through the pile of pink While You Were Out messages that Kate had brought with her from the office. It was an impressive list of names, but she was having trouble concentrating. Her arm hurt and the sling made even little tasks difficult. Worst of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about Chad’s out-of-left-field proposal. “I mean: Tennessee. I might as well be in Nebraska.”

“For sure.”

“How can I get to the top in a place like that? Or maybe that’s exactly where I could get to the top fast and get noticed by the networks.”

Kate sat at the other end of the bed, her legs stretched out alongside Tully’s. “Look. We’ve been talking about this for, like, an hour. Maybe I’m not the best person to ask, but it seems to me that at some point you’ve got to at least mention love.”

“Your mom said I’d know if I loved him.” She looked down at her bare left hand, trying to imagine a diamond ring.

“You said I was supposed to shoot you if you even thought about marriage before thirty.” Kate grinned. “You want to amend that?”

“Very funny.”

The bedside phone rang. Still staring at her hand, she picked it up quickly, hoping it was Chad. “Hello?”

“Tallulah Hart?”

She sighed, disappointed. “This is she.”

“I’m Fred Rorbach. You may remember me . . .”