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She picked up one of the teacakes and extended it expectantly. Knowing it would be rude to refuse, the guest acquiesced. "Hmm. Melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Just like Grandmother used to make." "You've never told me about your family. Not in the three months you've lived next door." Turning her back, she began washing the mixing bowls and measuring cups that had been soaking in the sink. "Not much to tell. Dad was in the military. We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Twelve grades, twelve schools." "That can be so hard on a child." Her usually cheerful smile became a frown of sympathy. "This is a royal proclamation! No sad thoughts today! I decree this a day of celebration. Your day." She giggled like a girl, although she was well into her fifties. "I've got so much to do before this afternoon. Fred's taking off early. Said he'd be home by two. The children should be arriving with their families around five." "You can't possibly make all the preparations yourself. Put me to work. I took the day off so I could help." "Oh, you shouldn't have done that!" she exclaimed. "Won't your boss get mad?" "If he does, that's tough. I told him how fortunate I am to be living next door to a very special lady and that, whether he liked it or not, I was going to help her celebrate her second year with a new heart." She was touched. Tears glistened in her eyes. "I've been so blessed. When I think how close ..." "Hey, none of that, now. Remember the royal proclamation. Where should we start?" She blotted her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief, then returned it to her apron pocket. "Well, you could start setting up the extra folding chairs while I water my plants." "Lead the way." They moved into the family room. It was homey and bright. On one wall was a glass sliding door that opened onto the patio. In order to catch the morning sun, a Boston fern had been hung on a hook in the ceiling, directly in front of the large glass pane.
    "I guess Fred waters that fern for you. You'd never be able to reach it." "Oh, it's not hard to reach, dear," she said. "I use a stepladder." It had been a year since the Ward boy had met with that unfortunate accident in Memphis. Twelve months of careful planning had passed. Although it was anxiety-producing, the protraction was necessary. The methodology was essential to the mission. Without order and discipline, the mission would be madness. The longest part of the year had been the hours since midnight last night. They had seemed as long as all the hours that had gone before. Each second had been counted in eager anticipation. Now, the long wait was almost over, the anticipation was minutes away from being gratified. "Watch, love. I'm doing this for you. It's a demonstration of love that even death cannot vanquish.'' "A stepladder. How convenient."
    Chapter Eleven
    November 1993
    I didn't even ring the doorbell." "I heard your car." Cat moved aside, silently inviting Dean to come in, then turned and led him into the living room of her house in Malibu. Three Emmy awards were displayed on a shelf built especially for them. The stark white walls were decorated with framed magazine covers on which she had appeared. It was a personal room and gave the impression of warmth and coziness despite its high cathedral ceiling and tall windows. The house was a contemporary structure perched on a precipice, connected to the beach by wooden steps that zigzagged down the steep, rocky slope. The fire in the fireplace relieved the chill of the overcast day. Beyond the wall of windows overlooking the Pacific, the view was monochromatic, the horizon undetectable. The water was the same dull gray as the low-hanging clouds. Even during the most inclement weather, Cat loved the seascape her house afforded. The ocean never failed to amaze her. Each time she looked at it, she felt as if she were seeing it for the first time. Its
    incessant rhythm filled her with awe, mystified her, and made her feel insignificant compared to such