“Okay, so get this,” Sherry Bowker said breathlessly. “I’m picturing red and white heart-shaped balloons hanging from the ceiling,” She waved her arms at strategic spots on the dropped ceiling of the coffee shop. “And cream-colored linen tablecloths on each table, with wrought-iron candle holders and cranberry glass holders in the center. We’ll use the counter for the food—oh God, wait till you see the spread Mom has planned! And—” She propped her hands on her hips and glared at Lara. “What are you grinning at, artist lady? Come on, I need your input here. You’re the one with the creative flair, not me.”

Lara Caphart couldn’t help herself. Giggling, she went over and gave her bestie a fierce hug. “Sher, I’m sorry—but I’m not laughing at you. I’m just thrilled at seeing you so excited. If you only knew how happy I am for you and David.”

Several months earlier, Sherry had gotten engaged to the man of her dreams, David Gregson. She’d met him a year and a half earlier, when he dropped into Bowker’s Coffee Stop one morning for breakfast. They’d both felt an instant attraction, but Sherry, who’d never been lucky in love, had tiptoed cautiously into the relationship. Fortunately, David was as patient as he was kind. One year after they met, he proposed.

“Sher,” Lara said. “It’s your wedding, not mine.” The words almost snagged in her throat. “If you want giant purple hearts with pink polka dots dangling from the ceiling, then I’ll paint them for you.”

Sherry made a face. “That sounds awful. Come on, you know what looks good. Help me out here, will ya?”

Lara looked around the coffee shop, a place that was like a second home to her. Since her move back to Whisker Jog, New Hampshire, over two years before, she’d come in here nearly every morning. Fresh-brewed coffee, one of Daisy Bowker’s yummy muffins, and a daily chat with Sherry was her favorite way to jump-start any day.

“Okay, then. Let’s get serious. The big heart-shaped balloons? Um, not a fan. We’ll save those for your tenth-anniversary celebration, okay?”

Sherry nodded. “Agreed.”

“I’d opt instead to put your cake on a square table in the far corner, with a cluster of miniature red and white balloons at each of the two back corners. On the far wall”—she pointed toward the rear of the coffee shop—“we can make a swag of red and white roses, interwoven with creamy lace.”

Tears filled Sherry’s eyes. “Oh God, Lara. This is really happening. It’s only three weeks away. Am I ready for it?”

“Of course you are,” Lara soothed. “You’re having a case of nerves, that’s all. It’s totally understandable. Be honest. When you look at David, what do you feel?”

“I feel like I just hit the jackpot.”

Lara grinned. “Then remember that when you’re walking down the aisle, okay?”

“Aisle?” Daisy Bowker bleated as she came through the swinging door from the kitchen. She slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “I guess we can make an aisle, if we set up the tables just right.”

Too late, Lara realized her poor choice of words. She’d meant “walking down the aisle” in a figurative sense, not an actual one. To the dismay of David’s mother, Loretta Gregson, Sherry and David both agreed on tying the knot in the very place they’d met—the coffee shop. Loretta, a traditionalist, felt it would be unseemly for them to get married in any place other than a proper church. Several times she’d made vague noises about not attending, but David felt sure it was only that—noise. His mom would never miss his wedding, he assured Sherry. “Let her huff and puff if she wants to,” he’d told his bride-to-be, “but she won’t blow our wedding plans down.”

It made Lara admire David even more.

“Hey, I’ve gotta run,” Lara said, shrugging on her winter jacket. “Cats to feed, litter to scoop, and all that.”

“How’s Sienna doing?” Daisy asked.

Lara and her aunt Fran ran the High Cliff Shelter for Cats out of her aunt’s Folk Victorian home. Most recently they took in a sweet girl who was FIV positive. Their vet, Amy Glindell, assured them that the petite tortoiseshell cutie could lead a happy life without their fearing she could infect other cats. Having that knowledge was a huge relief, but educating potential adopters was a whole other matter.

“Actually, she’s doing great. We’re hopeful that she’ll be adopted in spite of her diagnosis. She’s one of the most lovable cats we’ve ever had.”

“Glad to hear that,” Daisy said. She frowned at Lara’s open collar. “Bundle up your jacket, Lara. It’s dropped about ten degrees since you got here.”

The quintessential mom, Lara thought, snapping her top button in place. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Sher, I forgot to ask you,” Lara said. “Did you decide on the wedding favors? Last I knew, you chose the foil-wrapped chocolate hearts in those cute lacy boxes.”

“I chose them, but I’m not wild about them. The little boxes are great—I love those. They’re, what do you call it, die-cut? Delicate, with lacy heart cutouts.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s the chocolate hearts I’m not wild about. Too boring, you know?”

Lara agreed, but kept that to herself. “I’ll try to come up with something a little more fun.”

“That would be awesome,” Sherry said, digging a ring of keys out of her pocket. “I’ll let you out.”

Lara hugged them both, then followed Sherry to the door. A face popped into view just as Sherry stuck the key in the lock. An attractive brunette with stunning blue eyes waved at her through the coffee shop’s glass door. Clad in an aquamarine wool coat and a knitted hat, she had a button nose that was red from the cold.

Sherry unlocked the door and smiled at the woman. “I’m sorry, but we close at four,” she said.

“I know. I saw your sign,” the woman acknowledged, rubbing her mittened hands together. “I’m only looking for directions. I’m trying to find a local attorney’s office. Gideon Halley? Do you know him?”

Lara swallowed. Gideon. Her Gideon.

“I do,” Lara said. “I can point you in the right direction. Do you have an appointment with him?” Not that it was any of her business.

The young woman wrinkled her nose. “Um, not exactly. I’m—well, I kind of want to surprise him.” She gave Lara a wide-eyed look that was intended to mean something. What, Lara wasn’t sure.

“Are you driving or walking?” Lara asked her.

“Driving. That’s my car right there.” She dipped her head toward a cherry-red Honda parked in front of the coffee shop.

Lara heard the door lock behind her. She peeked around the cardboard cupid taped to the glass door and waved goodbye to Sherry.

“Okay, then,” she said, turning back to the woman. “After you back out, head that way.” She pointed toward the traffic signal. “After you go through the light, go one more block. His office is in an older home on the right, painted dark green. You’ll see his sign on the front lawn. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver. I can’t wait to see him again. Is there parking?”

“Yes, there’s parking on the side. Is he…an old friend?” Lara asked, her attempt at sounding casual coming out like a squeak.

A blush tinted the young woman’s creamy cheeks. “I guess you could call him that. We dated for a while, but it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m hoping he can help me. I’ve got, like, a legal problem. Thanks again for the directions!”

A few years? Lara and Gideon had been a couple for close to two years.

Lara stood there, shivering under a pitifully weak January sun. She watched the young woman jerk her Honda out of her parking space and head toward Gideon’s.

A weird feeling tugged at her insides, forming a tiny knot. She knew exactly what it was.

Jealousy.

It was approaching dusk by the time Lara got home. The sky was pewter, blotted with clouds.

“You look half frozen,” Aunt Fran said, closing the door behind Lara. “Want some tea? We can try one of those gourmet brands Jerry gave me for Christmas.” Jerry Whitley was Whisker Jog’s chief of police. He and Aunt Fran were good friends—very good friends.

“Tea sounds good,” Lara said. She shed her jacket and scarf and hung them in the hall closet. Sitting on Lara’s usual chair in the kitchen was their newest arrival—Sienna. A darling tortoiseshell with a white chest and forepaws, she loved to be held and cuddled.

Sienna’s initial diagnosis of “FIV positive” worried Lara at first. She knew that the condition could not be transmitted to humans, but what about other cats? After doing some online research and talking to their vet, Lara felt confident that Sienna would be a safe addition to the shelter. Finding her the perfect home might be more of a challenge, but as long as she remained at High Cliff she would be cared for and loved.

“Hey there, are you in my seat again?” Lara lifted the cat and held her close, smiling at the loud purr coming from such a small kitty.

Lara sat with Sienna snugged in her lap. Aunt Fran held up two mugs. “Cranberry or organic peppermint?”

“Peppermint,” Lara said.

Aunt Fran prepared their mugs and set them down on the table, then sat down opposite her niece. “I can tell by your expression something’s bothering you.”

“Good gravy,” Lara said with a groan, “am I that transparent?” She took a sip of her peppermint tea, which smelled and tasted heavenly.

“Only to those who know you as well as I do. Nothing’s gone awry with the wedding plans, I hope.”

“No, it’s not that.” Lara absently rubbed the handle of her mug. “Aunt Fran, before I moved back here, do you remember if Gideon was dating anyone?”

“Dating? As in, did he have a girlfriend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Aunt Fran looked away, thinking. “I can’t answer that question with any certainty, Lara. Before you got here, I hadn’t been getting around very well, as you know. I was even having my groceries delivered.”

“I remember,” Lara said quietly.

How could she ever forget how frail her aunt had looked on that fateful October day over two years earlier? Lara had rented a car in Boston and driven to her aunt’s home. They hadn’t seen each other in sixteen years, and Lara didn’t have a clue what to expect. All she knew was what she’d learned from Sherry—that her aunt was failing and in dire need of help.

It wasn’t until Lara made the decision to move in with her that Aunt Fran got the surgeries she needed. Two knee replacements later, her aunt was walking like a woman ten years younger, and completely pain-free.

“You must be asking that for a reason,” Aunt Fran said, concern evident in her voice.

Lara sighed. “A woman stopped by the coffee shop today as I was leaving, asking for directions. She was looking for Gideon’s office.” She sipped her peppermint tea, her mind filled with visions of Gideon with another woman—a very attractive woman, at that.

“And?”

“I asked her if Gideon was an old friend, and she said they’d dated for a while, but that she hadn’t seen him in a few years. She wanted to surprise him.” The words tasted sour in her throat.

Aunt Fran patted the black, long-haired cat who’d crawled into her lap and settled there like a furry pillow. Dolce was one of her three original cats, Munster and Twinkles being the other two. “Lara, surely you didn’t think Gideon had never dated, as you put it, before you moved back here. The main thing is, he loves you now and you love him. That’s the only thing that should matter.”

“I know,” she said with a groan. “I know you’re right, but now that I’ve seen this woman, I can’t stop picturing them together.”

“I take it she was pretty, for lack of a better descriptor.”

“Quite attractive,” Lara acknowledged.

“I’m sure Gideon will tell you all about it when you talk to him later. Any plans for this evening?”

On Fridays, Gideon and Lara often ate dinner out, and occasionally saw a movie. The weather tonight was not only frigid, the roads were supposed to be icing over. Driving anywhere would be dicey.

“If we do, we won’t go far. Probably just the Irish Stew. How about you?”

Aunt Fran smiled. More and more, she reminded Lara of the actress Audrey Hepburn in her later years. “Jerry and I both decided we had plenty of things to catch up on at home, so we’re going it alone tonight.”

Lara raised her eyebrows. “I noticed that you’ve been using your new laptop quite a bit these days. Projects for school?”

Aunt Fran’s deteriorating knees had initially forced her to give up her teaching job, but when the school year started last fall, she returned as a substitute teacher.

“A few,” her aunt said, a rosy blush tinting her cheeks. “I love subbing the classes with younger kids. I talk to them about ways to show respect for animals, and they really get excited by the discussion. Many of them ask about ways they can help.”

“Anything else you’re doing on your laptop?” Lara teased. “I caught you a few times putting it away when I walked into the room.”

For a long moment, her aunt was silent. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. I’m…well, I’m trying my hand at writing a book.”

“A book?” Lara’s eyes widened. “Aunt Fran, I think that’s great. What kind of book?”

“It’s a novel, about a young woman torn apart by the sudden loss of her husband. I know I never bring it up, Lara, but those few months I was married to Brian were probably the best ones of my life. His death shook me to the core. I didn’t know if I’d ever recover.”

Sometimes Lara forgot about her aunt’s brief marriage. Aunt Fran never talked about Brian Clarkson, and she didn’t display any photos of him, not even in her bedroom.

They’d eloped when Aunt Fran was a junior at UNH, working toward her teaching degree. Brian had already earned his master’s and was teaching middle school in a town near the campus. He’d been killed by a snowplow while helping a stranded motorist, shattering Aunt Fran’s short-lived joy.

“I never really dealt with the grief after Brian’s death,” her aunt went on. “My no-nonsense mother had never approved of our getting married while I was still in school, and I had no one to mourn with me. Not properly, anyway. I suppressed my grief so that I could finish getting my degree.”

Lara blinked back tears. “How is it coming along? The novel, I mean.”

“Actually, it’s coming along decently. I’ve signed up for an online writing class, too.” Aunt Fran smiled. “I know I’ve got a long way to go before I let anyone read a word of it,” she added. “But the sheer act of putting words on paper, so to speak, has helped me tremendously.”

“I hope you’ll let me read it someday.”

“No worries there. You’re the first person I’ll show it to, but only after it’s polished.” Aunt Fran’s smile faded, and her expression grew pensive. “I’ve felt for a long time now, Lara, that everything happens for a reason. Writing this novel has helped me to see that.”

Clutching Sienna to her chest, Lara went over and hugged her aunt. When she looked across the Formica table, she saw that a fluffy Ragdoll cat had claimed her seat. Her turquoise eyes half-closed, Blue rested her furry chin on the table.

“I think someone else agrees with you,” Lara said, nodding toward her chair.

“Blue?” Aunt Fran said with a smile.

Again, Lara nodded.

Aunt Fran, Gideon, and their shelter assistant, Kayla, were the only ones who knew about Lara’s spiritual guardian—the cat only Lara could see. Once a living, breathing feline, she’d passed on the day Lara was born—nearly thirty years earlier.

As a child, Lara had been only vaguely aware of a blue-eyed cat who materialized whenever she felt sad or troubled. But as Lara grew older, she decided that the kitty she’d named Blue had simply been an imaginary friend. Since Lara’s return to Whisker Jog, Blue had been there when she needed her most, intervening when Lara’s life was at risk.

She thought about her aunt’s statement. Everything happens for a reason.

Did it apply to Gideon’s former girlfriend showing up, unannounced, on his doorstep?

Lara didn’t know, but she intended to find out.