"So tell me," I urged, loving her enthusiasm for life, loving everything about her.

"I got a part in a local TV commercial!" she said. "I get to be a shopper at the Safeway store."

"A shopper?"

"I push a cart down the aisle and take a box of breakfast cereal from a display at the end of the aisle and put it in my cart. I'm supposed to look pleasantly surprised at the discounted price and from there, I move the cart off screen."

I did my best to look impressed. "Congratulations!"

"The production company is taping it a week from Friday."

"Fabulous."

"If I do well, I might get a speaking role next. No guarantees, of course. The man who produces the radio ads I do recommended me for this. Is that fantastic or what?"

"It is," I told her. She'd explained to me that working in television was high on her list of career goals. And, of course, she had more of those than most people.

"I heard from the TV people this morning that I got the job. Then I did a radio spot for a landscaping service. Oh, and I should be completely finished the mural by the end of the week."

She bounced from one subject to the next with hardly a breath in between.

We'd been standing on the walkway leading to her porch, so she hadn't noticed the pink bicycle attached to my car.

"I brought you something," I said.

"What?" Her eyes grew huge with curiosity.

I ran my hands down the length of her arms, my gaze never leaving her face. I wanted to see her reaction when she first caught sight of the bicycle. "Look behind me. At the car."

She frowned. "You brought me a car?"

"No." I laughed. "The bicycle at the back of my car."

Her face exploded with reaction. She covered her mouth with her fingers, then raced to my car. "Oh, Michael, pink! I love pink."

I helped her remove it from the carrier and let her examine all the features. She laughed at the tassels and the white basket I'd had attached to the front. White with pink flowers!

"I've always wanted a pink bicycle," she told me breathlessly.

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it! I absolutely love it. Thank you, oh, thank you so much." Once again her arms were around me--not that I was complaining. Her spontaneous joy filled me with joy, too. I was still unaccustomed to emotion like this. It burned in my chest the same way as tears did, and now I understood why people sometimes cry out of happiness.

After Macy had studied every inch of the bicycle, I handed it to her. She immediately hopped on and started pedaling down the empty sidewalk. She wore a skirt and her slim legs pumped the lime-green pedals as her laughter echoed along the street.

The moment he saw her, Sammy jumped down from Harvey's porch to chase after her, barking wildly. She braked and got off, pausing to crouch and rub Sammy's ears. Then she walked the bicycle back to me. She kept her gaze on the ground and I felt a stab of fear.

"What's wrong?"

"Michael," she whispered, close to tears. "Thank you so much."

"Don't cry, please." I shook my head. "I just wanted to give you something special, and your bicycle was ruined."

Tears spilled from her eyes. I'd never seen Macy cry before, and I wasn't sure what to say. Or do. I felt completely helpless. "Macy..."

"I'm so afraid of what'll happen if I fall in love with you. But I...think it's too late."

"Is loving me so bad?" I asked gently.

"Oh, no! It's just that you're an important doctor and, well, look at me," she said, gesturing at her white-andpurple saddle shoes with their pom-pom laces. "You're dignified and I'm...me."

"I'm falling in love with funny, undignified you and that's a good thing."

She brought one hand to her mouth and hid a sob. "That'll change, though. Men think I'm fun and different, and then they get to know me and after a while they decide I'm...annoying. Or silly. And I couldn't stand it if that happened with you."

I clasped her shoulders. "Nothing's going to change my mind about you, Macy. Understand?"

She nodded.

"Come on," I said and took the bike from her. I leaned it against the fence and we sat together on the top step of her porch. Sammy lay at my feet with his chin on my shoe. I stroked his thick fur and he groaned softly, a sound that expressed contentment. A dog or cat asked for so little, I thought--food, shelter, affection--and gave so much.

Meanwhile Macy continued to sniffle.

"I want to tell you something," I finally said. I'd decided it was time Macy knew about Hannah's list, so I told her how I'd come to make that phone call all those weeks ago.

She listened intently as I described what Hannah had written. Her eyes revealed astonishment when I explained that Hannah had given me her name.

"Me?" she said, her hand pressed to her heart. "She gave you my name?"

"Yes, you. In the beginning I was sure she'd made a mistake--or was playing a trick on me."

Macy laughed. "Either one might be true."

"But there's no mistake, no trick. Hannah was right about everything. You have taught me to laugh again, to enjoy life. When I'm with you I feel happy I'm alive. You are so generous and kind. You make me want to be a better person."

"Oh, Michael... I don't think anyone's ever said anything lovelier to me in my whole life."

I had to make an effort to keep from hugging her and kissing her again. I was afraid that once we started we wouldn't be able to stop.

Macy rested her forehead against my shoulder. "Hannah was one of the wisest, most generous women I've ever known."

I nodded. Hannah had understood that I'd need encouragement to move into the next stage of my life. She'd released me to love again, but she'd gone a step further. I felt a fresh sense of appreciation that Hannah had steered me toward Macy.

"There's an awards banquet a week from Friday," I told her. "I'm nominated for Pediatrician of the Year, and I'd like it very much if you'd come with me." I'd dreaded this evening until I'd asked Macy to join me. It would mean everything to share this night with her, to have her at my side, win or lose.

"This is a formal dinner?" she asked. She seemed more than a little nervous.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I won't embarrass you?"

"No," I said, laughing at the thought. Macy was Macy. If she chose to show up in a pink taffeta gown and ballet slippers, that would be fine with me. If she wore a clown suit that wouldn't bother me, either, as long as she was by my side.

"Oh, Michael, I can't believe this is happening. You're truly falling in love with me?"

"Yes, Macy."

Her look was serious now, if a bit fearful. "I fell in love with you the night you stayed here after the accident. Any man who'd put up with me, the cats and Harvey is a prince in my book. My prince."

I grinned. "This is the perfect house for a prince to find his princess," I said. A princess in disguise. The accident had been a turning point for me, as well. I remembered the fear I'd experienced when I received the call that Macy had been hurt. The thought of losing her had clarified everything. That accident had shown me what my heart had been trying to tell me from the day I met her.

Because I'm a stubborn, willful man, I hadn't been ready to accept that I'd fallen for Macy. I tried to get her out of my head, out of my life, but nothing had worked. Now I was grateful my puny efforts hadn't succeeded.

The problem was that I'd grown comfortable wallowing in pain, comfortable with the anger I felt at losing Hannah. I was at ease with my grief. But Macy had changed that. Falling in love with her meant I had to let go of my grief and, shockingly, that was hard. I had to reach out toward life and, frankly, I found that frightening.

We had dinner together. Macy insisted on cooking, with my assistance. We worked side by side in her kitchen, laughing and teasing each other, interspersing our tasks with lengthy kisses. The radio played rock favorites from the seventies and eighties, and we managed to dance and sing while we assembled the ingredients for the salmon casserole. Apparently, this recipe wasn't all that different from the one she sometimes made for her cats, because Lovie, Peace and Snowball meowed at us in three-part harmony. Macy put me in charge of the salad. The lettuce was from Harvey's garden.

"Should I set the table?" I asked when I'd finished tossing everything in the large ceramic bowl. Not that I could see the table. Macy had stacked newspapers and books and accumulated stuff on top of it. I started shifting things into new piles on the floor. I made a heroic attempt not to wince as I did so and consoled myself that the floor was scrupulously clean.

The oven timer went off, and Macy removed the casserole, then took over rearranging the books and papers.

After that, she tried the salmon dish and blinked. "Oh, dear, I think I might've mixed up the recipes."

That wouldn't surprise me, seeing how often we'd stopped to kiss during our preparations.

"I'm afraid this might be the one I use for making cat food. Oh, well. It wouldn't be the first time." She laughed. "Just kidding."

"It wouldn't be the first time for me, either," I said wryly. "At least we have a fine Merlot to wash it down."

If someone had asked me what dinner tasted like, I couldn't really have said--except that the casserole was better than cat food. What I remember most was how much I enjoyed being with Macy. I helped wash the dishes after the meal and afterward we watched TV, sitting on the sofa with the three cats piled on our laps. Sammy was keeping Harvey company tonight. Needless to say, we paid far more attention to each other than the medical drama on the screen.

Much later, as I drove home, I realized I wanted every night to be like this. No one could be more shocked than I was at the speed with which things had changed. But despite our differences, despite everything, I was certain of my feelings.

The following afternoon, before I joined Patrick, Ritchie and Steve for our poker night, I stopped at the jeweler's and picked out an engagement ring. I planned to ask Macy to marry me the night of the awards dinner.

Because I spent so long at the jeweler's, I was late for poker.

"Where've you been?" Ritchie asked when I got to his house. The others were already there.

"It's not like you to be late," Patrick said.

"I had something to do."

"What?"

I might as well own up. "I've decided to ask Macy to marry me."

Ritchie's eyes widened and he immediately glanced at my left hand. Earlier that day I'd taken off my wedding ring--the one Hannah had placed on my finger. For me removing the ring was a momentous act, not something I'd done lightly. Still, I expected Ritchie to tell me it was too soon and that I needed to think this over.

But he didn't. "You sure?" was all he said.

"As sure as the day I asked Hannah."

"Didn't I tell you?" Ritchie grinned. "I knew all along it would be her."

I think Hannah did, too.

Chapter Thirty-One

W inter stared at the computer screen, rereading Pierre's e-mail. He'd written to remind her that their three-month separation was about to end and asked if she still wanted to meet on July 1 to discuss their options. Unless, of course, she had a new relationship with that doctor she'd mentioned.