“Tomato, tomahto,” he said. “Does it really matter?” He gave me a quick kiss. “I’ll text you when the board meeting is done. Love you!”

And he was out the door.

The room, which had up until then felt warm and comforting and cheerful, suddenly felt empty and cold. It was always like this when Rafe and I parted; something in me was just . . . gone.

“Mrr?”

“He’ll be back,” I assured Eddie, who had apparently just decided that his new favorite kitchen spot was the deep sill of the window that looked over the backyard.

“Mrr.”

Without getting out a tape measure, I guessed the amount of Eddie overhang was a good two inches. “This is just like the outside of the stairs last night,” I told him. “You didn’t fit there and you don’t fit here.”

He wriggled his shoulders and didn’t say anything.

“Right. Well.” I swallowed the last of my coffee. “Hope you can manage all by yourself today. I’m off to investigate.” Last night, Rafe and I had come up with a couple of ideas, and it was time to put the first one into action.

“Mrr!”

“Of course I’m going to get dressed first.” I put my mug in the dishwasher and patted Eddie on the head. “And no, you’re not going with me. It’s not a bookmobile day.”

“Mrr!”

“What is with you?” I gave his head one last pat. “Do that too much and you’re going to lose your little kitty voice, and then where will you be?”

I went upstairs to change, and when I came down my fuzzy friend was nowhere to be seen. I looked in his typical favorite spots, but all were vacant. No Eddie on the back of the couch. No Eddie on any of the floor heating vents. No Eddie on the dining room chairs. And no Eddie where he shouldn’t be—kitchen counters, fireplace mantel, or the top of the refrigerator.

Well, he was somewhere. I’d just have to leave without knowing where. “Eddie, I’m headed out,” I called. “It’s going to be hours and hours before I get back, so if you want one last snuggle, you’d better come now.”

He’d never once fallen for that trick, and he didn’t fall for it now. But as I shut the back door, I did hear a faint “Mrr.”

“Silly cat,” I muttered, getting into my small sedan and backing out of the driveway. All the way out to Bowyer Township I thought about all the places Eddie might possibly have fit himself into, and as I pulled into the gravel driveway of an old two-story farmhouse with a big barn out back, I’d created a mental list of 147 places.