“Just because her grammie’s not around don’t mean people aren’t watching out for her.”

“Tell me about it,” Heath muttered.

“What’s that you say?”

“I said, I’m in love with her.” He liked the way the words sounded, and he said them again. “I love Annabelle, and I plan to marry her.” If he could find her. And if she’d still have him.

Mr. Bronicki scowled. “Just make sure she don’t raise her rates. A lot of people are on a fixed income, you know.”

“I’ll do my best.”

After Mr. Bronicki had parked the Audi in his garage for safekeeping, Heath circled the house and pounded on the front door, but it was closed up tighter than a drum. He pulled out his phone and decided to try Gwen again, but got her husband instead. “No, Annabelle didn’t spend the night here,” Ian said. “Dude, you’d better watch your back. She talked to somebody in the book club yesterday, and the women are pissed. Here’s a word of advice, chump. Most women aren’t too anxious to marry a guy who’s not in love with them, no matter how much hair he’s got.”

“I am in love with her!”

“Tell her, not me.”

“I’m trying to, damn it. And I can’t tell you how comforting it is to know that everybody in the city is in on my private business.”

“You brought it on yourself. The price of stupidity.”

Heath hung up and tried to think, but until he could get somebody to talk to him, he was screwed. As he stood on Annabelle’s porch, he flicked through his messages. None of them were from her. Why the hell couldn’t everybody leave him alone? He rubbed his jaw and realized he’d forgotten to shave for the second day in a row, and with the way he was dressed, he’d be lucky if he didn’t get arrested for vagrancy, but he’d pulled on the first things he grabbed: designer navy slacks, a ripped black-and-orange Bengals T-shirt, and a paint-smeared red Cardinals windbreaker Bodie had picked up somewhere and left in his closet.

Finally, he got hold of Kevin. “It’s Heath. Have you—”

“All I’m saying is this…For a supposedly bright guy, you’re—”

“I know, I know. Did Annabelle spend the night at your house?”

“No, and I don’t think she was with any of the other women either.”

Heath sank down on Annabelle’s front step. “You’ve got to find out where she went.”

“You think they’d tell me? The girls have a big NO BOYS

ALLOWED sign plastered all over their little pink clubhouse.”

“You’re my best shot. Come on, Kev.”

“All I know is that the book club is meeting at one o’clock today. Phoebe takes Mondays off during the season, and it’s at her house. Molly’s been making leis, so they’ve got some kind of Hawaiian theme going.”

Annabelle loved the book club. Of course, she’d be there. She’d run to those women for comfort and support as fast as those small feet would carry her. They’d give her what she wasn’t getting from him.