"How rude, Abigail," she said. "You know my dalliances ended a long time ago."

"Try about two years ago. Anyway, you came to talk about Kate?"

"Yes. I went over to her house last night and found her in her pajamas. She'd been reading a book. It was only eight o'clock and she looked exhausted and, well, depressed. I am very concerned about her. A thirty-one-year-old woman should not be holed up like a nun."

I had to agree with my aunt. I was worried, too. But the last thing Kate needed was Aunt Caroline sticking her nose in this. "Give her time to heal," I said.

"She's had enough time. It's been ten months since that horrible man fooled her into believing he cared for her. She's refused every date I've tried to set up for her—close to forty of them. Now it's your turn. Do you know anyone suitable? He has to have money, of course. We don't want someone taking advantage of her. You two are blessed with wealth, but it does make you vulnerable to predators, so—"

"I am not setting her up with anyone. She'll move forward when she's ready." I so wanted to believe that, but I honestly wasn't sure. My sister had changed—her smile now not as spontaneous, her dark eyes lacking the spark I'd once thought would always be there.

"But don't you see, Abigail? Katherine needs—"

"Aunt Caroline," I interrupted. I had to get her off this subject. "Remember when you helped me organize files a while back?"

Her eyes brightened. "Do you need help again? Silly question. Of course you do. Your organizational skills are . . . well, anyway. I'd be glad to assist."

"It's not filing, actually." Finding out who was lying in that hospital bed was more important than allowing Aunt Caroline to meddle in Kate's business through me.

"I'm very good with any office task." She stood and rubbed her hands together. "Let's get started."

I took a deep breath and removed the folded paper from my pants pocket. "Hope you're wearing those bifocal contact lenses. You'll need good eyes for this job."