I don't understand what went wrong.

Raven's email stopped making sense 2 days ago, somewhere after about the thirtieth time I read it. Even after calling and hearing Raven explain it to me in plain language, I'm still having a hard time accepting what she told me.

Tiffany called it off.

It just doesn't make sense.

Tiff called off the arrangement and she didn't even tell me herself.

I knew something had changed when she said she had to get back home a few days before she'd planned to leave.

We'd spent almost 2 weeks together. Everything was perfect. Laughing and talking, making love and making plans for the future I thought she was eager to share with me.

Everything was set to go for the proposal too. A real, official will you marry me that I had worked on for weeks. The girls were going to come out so they could meet Tiffany in person and everything.

I stare at the ring that I'm holding like I've never seen it before. It's so small in my clumsy mitts, it feels like I might break it if I hold it too tight.

It's not fancy. Not like one of the glittery things I had my eye on when I first started shopping. If it had been up to me, I'd have picked out the shiniest ring with the biggest damn rock the store could put in it.

Raven put me in touch with Tiffany's assistant, Bethany when I asked for hints on what Tiff might want. That girl did nothing but gush about how romantic our whole set up was for a solid hour before I got any helpful information from her.

In the end, between Beth's input and some advice from Summer and Dani based on what they'd learned about Tiffany during all the interviews, I ended up with the delicate band between my fingers now.

It's platinum, with some filigree on the sides and a traditional round stone in the middle. Actually, the jeweler had a lot to say about the cut and what makes it special, but to me it's round. It looks like something that belongs on a fairy princess's finger. Exactly what Tiffany deserves.

Slipping the thing back into it's box and snapping the lid shut, I set it on my dresser and clench my jaw to fight back the surge of emotion threatening to makes its way to the surface.

I ain't the sort to get all blubbery. I'm more the sort that sets his mind on something and figures out how to make it happen.

So I make my way through the house that suddenly feels even emptier than it was before I started down this crazy arranged marriage path, I head right through the French doors and make a beeline toward the back corner of my lot.

"Have you talked to her since she left?" I'm still 20 yards from Helen when I start talking.

"I'm fine, thank you very much, how are you?" Helen quips sarcastically without looking up from her weeding.

"Jilted. What the hell happened? Everything was going fine till you got your hooks into my woman."

That might not have come out as light-hearted as I'd meant it to.

Helen stops what she's doing. She sits up straight on her up-turned bucket, wipes the moist dirt off her hands on the overalls, and stares up at me from under the wide brim of her straw hat.

The look on her face tells me she didn't know. It also tells me that the news might be about as upsetting to my elderly neighbor as it has been to me.

"What're you going on about now?" Helen sounds cautious, like it's an answer she doesn't really want to hear but it's plain that she's trying to make sense of what I'm saying.

"Tiffany called off the engagement," I tell her as plainly as I know how. "She went home early. Said she needed to get back to the store but I think it was just an excuse...everything was fine till she spent the day with you."

I feel like an asshole, I know it sounds like I'm blaming Helen. Fuck it. Maybe I am. It's the truth; Tiffany talked to Beth every day and every day we discussed how impressed she was with Beth's ability to handle the store.

We talked about her plans to let Beth take over the place and eventually give her the option of buying the place if she wanted to.

All that "I need to get back to the book store," talk that Tiffany used as an excuse to get on an earlier flight was pure bullshit.

My neighbor is looking in my direction, but her eyes are focused in the distance over my shoulder.

Finally she sighs heavily and shakes her head, "I don't know what to say," she briefly makes eye contact and then quickly returns to her gardening, "I thought we had a nice day."

For the first time in all the years I've known Helen Montgomery, she sounds like an old woman. Her voice hits my ears with a vibration that makes her seem frail. I'm struck by the urge to get down on my hands and knees and help her dig the stubborn weeds out of the dirt for her so she can take a break.

So I do.

Well, I get down on my hands and knees between the rows of bush beans and start helping with the weeds at least. I guess it shouldn't surprise me in the least that Helen doesn't take the opportunity to rest.

Instead, she picks up her bucket and moves a few feet farther down the row so we're not working in the same place.

"Well what did she say her reason was, Nate?" She asks after a minute of both of us working in silence.

"She didn't," I answer, "Raven sent a pretty standard email and then followed up with a few phone calls. Tiff won't answer my calls. All Raven said was that Tiffany told her that she doesn't think it's going to work out."

"That's a load of crap and you know it." Helen's word have their spunk back in them, but her voice doesn't. "Something scared her is all, give her a minute, she'll come around."

I hear Helen shift on her seat and I turn toward her in anticipation of whatever's worth taking her attention off her garden.

"Nathaniel," Helen stares down her nose at me with a look of pure determination, "that woman loves you and she would much rather be Mrs. Wright than Mrs. Something-that-doesn't-fit-anymore.

"We just have to get to the bottom of this and figure out what spooked her."