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the beautiful New Orleans home of the bride’s family. Annemarie had squeezed Catherine’s hand when the beautiful dark-haired bride, Renée, walked down the aisle, and Annemarie had stayed close to her daughter during the reception, helping her keep up her façade of cheerfulness that the entire Gray family was not only attending the wedding but also spending a few days in one of their favorite cities.
    The first year of the marriage had seemed peaceful. The next year had been a bit bumpy, according to the local gossips. At the beginning of the third year, Renée told anyone who would listen she was miserable with workaholic James, she couldn’t stand his overbearing parents, she hated the dullness of life in Aurora Falls, and she would not bear the three children James wanted. In October, Renée had left town so fast she seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke.
    Afterward, a stony-faced James wouldn’t talk about Renée at all, but his mother told friends she had gotten in touch with Renée’s parents, who claimed she had not returned to her home in New Orleans—she’d merely called them a week before her departure from Aurora Falls and told them she was getting a divorce. Her behavior infuriated her staunch Catholic parents, who had told her she would not be welcomed back to their home. Apparently, in a fit of pique Renée had claimed she would never speak to them again.
    When the news reached Annemarie, she’d hugged Catherine in unashamed jubilation. “James will be hurt for a while, but mostly he’ll be humiliated,” Annemarie had told Catherine. “When he emerges from his fog of misery, he’ll see who has been right under his nose for years!” She’d paused. “Honestly, I think Renée must have cast some magic spell on him. When I looked in her eyes at the reception, I knew she was wrong for him. James has intelligence, depth, and a warm, kind soul. She was pretty but predatory and cold to her bones.”
    “Are you cold?” James asked.
    Catherine’s gaze flashed to him. “What did that mean?”
    James tossed Catherine a startled look. “I’m comfortable, but is the car warm enough for you? What did you think I meant?”
    “I thought…oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t even thinking about you.” Catherine closed her eyes and wondered if she could have said anything ruder. “I’m sorry, James. That came out wrong. I’m jumpy tonight. Marissa is covering the party for the newspaper and she was running late, as usual, so she took off in her little convertible sports car, which she’ll drive too fast. The weather is getting worse and I’m worried to death about her.”
    “It’s sweet of you to care so much,” James said softly, then more heartily, “Don’t worry about her, Catherine. She’ll be fine.” He smiled ruefully at Catherine. “I thought you were already wondering how you’d get through a whole evening with me.”
    Are you crazy? Going to this party with you is my dream come true, Catherine almost burst out, but took a breath. “I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time, James. I’m pleased you invited me to join you.” I sounded like a character from a Victorian novel, Catherine thought in frustration. She tried again: “James, I’m sorry I seem so strange tonight. I’m a worrier by nature and maybe because Mom died such a short time ago I’m especially overprotective of my sister now. She’s impetuous, the risk taker, the live wire in the family.”
    James grinned at Catherine and she thought she saw a shade of relief in his dark eyes. “Then she’ll fit right in at the party. Last year’s turned out to be a bash. Evelyn Addison had a bit too much eggnog and did her rendition of My Heart Will Go On at the grand piano. Twice. And Evelyn put her heart in the song. If Céline Dion had heard her, she would have dropped dead in horror.”
    Catherine giggled, picturing Evelyn, whose grande dame act fell to pieces after too many drinks. Her husband usually kept an eagle eye on her