“You were not.” I toed off my boots, shucked my coat, and put it all in the front closet, handy for tomorrow morning. Maybe next week I’d be comfortable wandering around outside in regular shoes and a light jacket, but then again, maybe not. Last year a foot of snow had dropped on us in mid-April. Even though the upcoming forecast didn’t indicate anything like that, I wasn’t sure it could be trusted to stay that way.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Rafe pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Eddie would have made my life miserable. He hates it when his routine is messed up.”

I nodded into the shoulder of Rafe’s plaid flannel shirt and asked, “Where is he, anyway?”

“Mrr.”

Detaching myself, I looked around. “What, exactly, is he doing there?”

“No idea. I wouldn’t have thought he’d fit.”

Eddie, a good-sized cat of thirteen pounds, was sitting in the middle of the stairway. Sort of. He was halfway up the wooden steps but, for a reason known only to him, was sitting on the three inches of step outside the stair balusters. Much of him flowed either inward through the balusters or outward over the edge of the step. Though his perch looked precarious, Eddie gave every indication of poise and unconcern.

I gestured at my cat. “Is this the definition of sangfroid?”

Early in my life, my parents had taught me that intelligence and education weren’t necessarily the same thing, and my life experiences had shown me how right they’d been. But then there was Rafe, who managed to take advantage of both sides of that coin. He acted the part of an Up North hick when it could get him out of doing something he didn’t feel like doing, but had used his bachelor’s and master’s degrees to become Chilson’s middle school principal. The school board loved him, the school superintendent loved him, his teachers loved him, the parents loved him, and his students adored him. Of course, none of them ever had to deal with his horrific tendency to forget to buy coffee or his penchant for leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor.

Rafe considered my question. “Not sure if it should count that he’s really exhibiting cool composure in a dangerous circumstance if he got himself into the situation.”

“Hear that, Eddie?” I went forward and reached up. “You’re not as cool as you think.”

“Mrr!”

“I know, that shouldn’t be possible, because cats are always cool, but think about it,” I said, lifting him off the step. “You’re the exception to the Cats Are Always Cool Rule, and how cool is that?”

“You realize that doesn’t make any sense, right?” Rafe asked.

“Shh.” I covered both of Eddie’s ears with the hand that wasn’t struggling to hold on to him. “Not in front of the children.”