Thank God Nonnie wasn’t dead. Just to make sure, Natalie went to her grandmother’s refrigerator and found the magnetic card for her veterinarian. She rang the vet immediately. “Hello, this is Natalie Rosen, Tatyana Ciccoli’s granddaughter.” Nonnie had married an Italian man, which was how she came to be known as Nonnie, rather than Baba. “What can I do for you, Ms. Rosen? Are you calling to check on Fitz and Floyd?” “Yes.” “They’re doing just fine. They’re in a large cage together, with their beds.” “Oh, thank you. Listen . . . I didn’t write down my grandmother’s exact travel dates. When are we picking up the cats, again?” “Two weeks.” “And, let’s see, I’m just trying to calculate the bill—she dropped them off yesterday?” “The day before. That nice older gentleman carried the cage for her.” “Colonel Blakely?” “Yes, honey. He takes good care of her.” The receptionist paused and then added coyly, “Do I hear wedding bells in the future?”
