As for the three cats, Charlie wasn't worried about their behavior. Joe Grey, his tabby lady, and the tortoiseshell kit knew better than many people how to act during such a solemn and important ceremony.

Though, looking down at the cats, Charlie did wonder at Joe Grey's admirable restraint on this particular day-because this marriage would change dramatically all the rest of the gray tomcat's life. The fact that Ryan would now be living with Joe Grey and Clyde presented a whole new set of rules and priorities for the tomcat; Charlie had worried considerably about how he'd settle into the new routine.

Any cat would find the addition of a new family member a threat to his place in the household and to his treasured habits, but for a cat who could speak with humans and who not only read the morning paper but expected first grabs at the front page, such a life change had to be stressful. Even though Ryan knew Joe's secret, had figured out for herself that he was as skilled in the English language as was she, the changes for Joe, as well as for Ryan and Clyde -for all three strong-willed individuals-would be trying. Particularly considering Joe Grey's secret involvement with Molena Point PD as their prime, though anonymous, informant.

Well, it was no good worrying about difficulties in the Damen household. She expected the three of them would work it out. And as the wedding music of soft Irish folk songs drifted through the outdoor speakers, Charlie centered her attention on the beautiful matron of honor as Ryan's sister, Hanni, stepped out onto the crowded patio through the glass doors from the Harper living room, leading the bridal procession.

It seemed fitting to Charlie that the bride herself had designed and constructed this part of the Harper home that was now the site of her wedding. This portion of the house was particularly bright and open, the airy living room anchored by tall, heavy pillars and soaring beams and the tall stone fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls that looked out to the sea over the Harpers' green pastures, now reflected Hanni as she led the two flower girls, the bride, and her escorts in slow and measured steps across the patio, between the rows of seated guests to the bower of roses where Clyde waited nervously with Captain Harper and the preacher; Charlie had to smile because Hanni had tastefully dressed down for the occasion, with none of her usual flamboyance.

Only Hanni's short, white hair, in a bright tangle around her smooth young face, could not be dimmed, her natural looks not be restrained by the tailored tan suit, somewhat darker than Clyde's; she wore none of her usual wild jewelry, but only a thin gold chain at her throat and tiny gold earrings, demure pieces she must have borrowed for the occasion, as they were nothing like her usual bizarre necklaces and pendants and wild rings for which Hanni Coon was so well known. Today, Hanni did not upstage her sister. The bride looked delicious in her soft red suit, and she looked so happy that Charlie felt tears starting, the foolish tears that weddings always stirred in her for no sensible reason.

The Irish folk music lilted softly, the stringed instruments blending with the sea's rhythmic pounding and with the far cries of the gulls, an earthy-milieu counterpoint to the minister's voice as he intoned the words of the brief ceremony. Only when he asked for the ring was he interrupted-by the nicker of Charlie's sorrel mare, from the pasture, which made everyone chuckle.

Joe Grey, watching Dallas Garza and Mike and Scott Flannery give away the bride, caught again a hint of bridling on Dallas 's part as he glanced over at Mike, and wondered again if Dallas 's competitive look centered on thoughts of Lindsey Wolf.

But when Joe looked at Dulcie to get her reaction, his tabby lady seemed to have noticed nothing, she seemed lost either in the sentimental ceremony or off in some distant thought, and did not even notice his glance.

WATCHING RYAN and Clyde joined in holy matrimony, the tabby cat, like Charlie, had to swallow back her own tears. What was it that made females weep at weddings?

She watched Clyde kiss the bride, and then the crowd surrounded the happy couple, laughing and congratulating them, and Dulcie had to hide a wild urge to laugh with delight, not only because of the joyous moment but because practical-minded Ryan Flannery-Ryan Flannery Damen, now-was a member of the inner group, because Ryan had guessed, all on her own, that the three cats could talk to her and understand her, because Ryan had guessed their impossible secret.

As the guests milled around them, the three cats, to avoid the surge of crowding feet, leaped to the top of the cold barbecue, out of the way-cops were a raucous crew, and their civilian counterparts were just as enthusiastic. Rock had joined the fray, yipping and dancing around the newlyweds, abandoning any attempt at obeying Ryan's carefully taught manners.

The couple was toasted, and toasted again; they danced the first dance, and posed for pictures, and cut the cake. Max put on a tape of Irish jigs, and everyone danced: eighty-year-old Lucinda and Pedric Greenlaw; Dulcie's housemate Wilma, and Mike Flannery; the four senior ladies dancing with handsome young cops; fourteen-year-old Dillon Thurwell and twelve-year-old Lori dancing with cops, too, their faces flushed, their eyes laughing. Hanni and her husband danced while their three boys inhaled party food. If this was a small, quiet wedding, Dulcie thought, heaven help a cat in the midst of a big, all-out celebration. Atop the barbecue, she pressed close between Joe and Kit, enjoying their human friends' rowdy pleasure.

By three o'clock that afternoon the party was winding down, the cake had been demolished, only scraps remained on the buffet, and the bride and groom had departed for their drive up the coast.

Most of the officers had gone back on duty. The senior ladies had left, as had Dillon and Lori, the two girls clutching their pieces of wedding cake to put under their pillows. "I will marry a cop," said red-haired Dillon, winking at portly Officer Brennan. But Lori, with her dad still in prison, pushed back her long dark hair and was silent. Lori didn't say what kind of man she'd marry.

The party dwindled to a quiet, mellow aftermath, melancholy and sentimental. Why anyone should feel sad after a wedding, Dulcie wasn't sure. This was the start of a new life for Ryan and Clyde -but while everyone was giddily happy, the cats could not ignore the undercurrent of sadness that now turned folks silent and thoughtful.

But of course Dulcie's housemate felt sad. Wilma was the closest thing to an older sister that Clyde had, and as happy as she was for him, surely she felt she was losing a bit of him-it would be Ryan, now, to whom Clyde would tell his secrets and ask for advice, to whom he'd voice his dreams and fears.

But Wilma knew that was as it should be, and Dulcie could see that her silver-haired housemate was more happy than sad. Wilma had said to Dulcie more than once that it was time Clyde settled down with the right woman-and Ryan was surely the right woman. Two mates of equal strength, Dulcie thought. Two people honest enough and with enough crazy humor to sustain the hardest bumps that might lie ahead.

From atop the barbecue the tabby cat watched Mike and Dallas and Scotty fold up the metal chairs from the patio and carry them out to Scotty's truck, to be returned to the furniture rental. All three men looked both well satisfied at this milestone in Ryan's life, and yet quiet and nostalgic. The cats watched Charlie and Hanni clean up the empty plates and platters and lay out the remaining food in a fresh but smaller array on the big round kitchen table, nesting the dishes on trays of ice. And as the sun dropped and the afternoon grew chill, the few remaining friends retired to the living room, where Max lit a fire on the hearth.