Just when I was feeling better and hadn’t driven past the police station in a week, I saw the engagement announcement in the Sentinel.

I saw green for envy, I saw red for rage, I saw blue for depression. I would never get married, I decided, I would just go to other people’s weddings the rest of my life. Maybe I could arrange to be out of town the weekend of the wedding so I wouldn’t be tempted to drive past the church.

Then the invitation came in the mail.

Lynn Liggett, Arthur’s fiancйe and fellow detective, had thrown down the gauntlet. Or at least that’s how I interpreted the invitation.

Now, in my blue-and-gold and my fancy hairdo, I had grasped it. I’d picked out an impersonal and expensive plate in Lynn’s pattern at the department store and left my card on it, and now I was going to the wedding.

The usher was a policeman I knew from the time I dated Arthur.

“Good to see you,” he said doubtfully. “You look great, Roe.” He looked stiff and uncomfortable in his tux, but he offered his arm properly. “Friend of the bride, or friend of the groom?” he asked automatically, and then flushed as red as a beet.

“Let’s say friend of the groom,” I suggested gently, and gave myself high marks. Poor Detective Henske marched me down the aisle to an empty seat and dumped me with obvious relief.

I glanced around as little as possible, putting all my energy into looking relaxed and nonchalant, sort of as if I’d just happened to be appropriately dressed and just happened to see the wedding invitation on my way out the door, and decided I’d just drop in. It was all right to look at Arthur when he entered, everyone else was. His pale blond hair was crisp and curly and short, his blue eyes as direct and engaging as ever. He was wearing a gray tux and he looked great. It didn’t hurt quite as much as I’d thought it would.