“But I can’t cook.”
“Yeah, the food was lousy.” I gave a rueful shrug. “But the important part was how hard you tried, and how earnestly you begged me to say yes.”
“I begged you?”
“On one knee.”
She huffed, clearly trying to hold back her smile. “Have we set a date for the wedding? Or did I have to beg you for that too?”
“No date yet. I’m still trying to fit a honeymoon into my busy shooting schedule.”
“There’s one big problem.” Nat wriggled her bare fingers. “I don’t have an engagement ring.”
“Then let’s go to my place.”
“What? Don’t tell me you have one?”
“You’ll have to see for yourself.”
I refused to answer any more of her questions until she came with me, and we took my car for the short trip to Asher’s house on Ocean Drive, barely a dozen blocks from the café.
She still tried to question me about the ring as I drove, so to distract her I asked, “Remember when we dated, you were writing a novel?”
“Oh. Um.” Nat looked away from me, out her side window, but not before I saw her cheeks going pink. “I never finished writing that one. It was terrible, so I threw it away. Lately I’ve been writing a thriller about a serial killer who works in a café and kills her customers in creative ways.”
“Really?” I chuckled. “Is your killer’s name Natalie? Should I be checking the café's freezer for body parts?”
“Whenever my old chef annoyed me past breaking point, I thought up new ways my killer could murder her victims.”
I turned the car onto Ocean Drive. “Did you make him into a character in your book?”
She nodded. “Lee was always getting words wrong, so my serial killer forces him to eat the entire dictionary.”
“Would that kill him?”
“It’s the Oxford Dictionary. Second edition. It has twenty volumes.”
I grinned. “That’d do it.”
Nat wrinkled her nose, and I was struck again by the contrast between her innocent blue eyes and her wicked sense of humor. “And in my book, Lee has an identical twin brother. The killer dips him in batter and deep fries him, piece by piece.”
“You’re depraved. I can’t decide whether you should see a doctor, or get your own Netflix series.”
She dropped her face into her hands, cupping them around her glasses. “I’m a monster,” she moaned. “Don’t look at me.”
I laughed. “Will you let me read it?”
She lifted her face and blinked her baby blues. “You want to read my trashy serial killer book?”
“Hell yeah.”
“It probably isn’t much good.”
I shook my head at her. “Don’t say that. Let me read it and I’ll tell you what I think.”
“You’ll tell me it’s good, even if it’s not.”
“I’ll tell you it’s great, because I’m sure it will be. And I’ll convince you to send it to a publisher so they can make you rich and famous.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “First I need to finish writing it.”
I pulled into Asher’s driveway and we got out of the car. “How close are you to finishing?” I asked.
“I’m almost done. As long as I don’t meet any more victims I need to write into it.”
The house was quiet, Asher and Iola clearly out somewhere with Ruff. I led Nat up the hallway, and we were halfway to my bedroom when she stumbled, letting out a squeal as her hand hit my back.
When I turned, she’d righted herself. A black cat was at her feet. Nemesis had her back arched. She glared up at Nat with unblinking yellow eyes. There was a dog toy in her mouth.
“I didn’t see the cat.” Nat pressed her hand to her chest. “I tripped over her.”
“Nemesis tends to come out of nowhere.”
“I met her last time I was here.” She bent to pet Nemesis. “Sorry kitty, but you gave me a fright. What do you have there?”
“She’s always stealing stuff from Iola’s dog.” I motioned Nat into my bedroom. “This way.”
Nat sat on the bed while I found the piece of jewelry I was looking for, my lucky charm. Yes, I realized there was something very weird about the fact I’d been carrying around my mother’s ring since I was fourteen, but at least if I ever met a psychiatrist, we’d have something to talk about.
The ring was in my secret hiding place, guaranteed to foil burglars. It was with my spare credit card and some emergency cash, inside a rolled-up pair of socks.
As I extracted it, I considered how to give the ring to Nat. Should I stage a fake, funny proposal on one knee? But turning to face her, I recoiled from that idea. Once I’d thought about presenting the ring to her for real. I couldn’t turn it into a joke.
“Here.” I dropped Mom’s ring into her palm. “You can wear this.”
“You have a ring!” Her eyes were wide. “Why do you have a ring?” Sliding it onto her finger, she stuck her hand out to admire it. The solitaire diamond sparkled in its simple setting. It looked like it had been made for her.
“It was Mom’s.” Weirdly, a lump was forming in my throat. Seeing her wear the ring was stirring some deep emotions I didn’t want to feel.
Turning my head, I studied the darkening sky outside the window. “When Mom left Dad, she took the ring off and made a big deal out of throwing it away.”
“And you kept it?”
“I thought she might want it back when she calmed down. Actually, I hoped she’d decide to go back to Dad. Then I’d present it to her and save the day.” I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure why I was telling Nat so many personal secrets, things I’d never told anyone.
“But you never got to give it back to her.”
“I’m glad I never told Mom I had it. She would have pawned it for
