"Giving Up the Ghost" by Mary Logue

So far: A gallery owner pushes hard to show Richard's work

In the morning, when I walked down to the lake, a lacy frill of ice lined the shore. If I was an artist I would have drawn it, the organic curls and scallops. Instead I imagined a dress with an irregular collar formed in the shape of the ice. Then I saw it all done in embroidery.

The ice wouldn't last long. When the sun shone on it for a while, it would disappear.

The lake was turning turbid, a milky blue. Deep freeze was on its way.

"Another week has gone by," Gary told me.

"It certainly has," I said in my best Stan Laurel voice.

"You're still not back in town."

"Why?"

"Because I keep staying here."

"How's your bowl?" he asked.

"I love it."

"See. Good collectible."

"That might be true, but the collective love you would feel for both bowls might be more than the love you feel for just that one."

"I don't want to risk it." Cloud was curled up in my jacket, which I had dropped on the rug. "Can I tell you the latest cute thing that Cloud did?"

"Of course. I owe you many hours of listening to catch up with all the cute Bethany things I've told you."

"Last night she slept in the crook of my arm. The whole night."

Gary gave a guffaw, then said, "God, that is adorable. How big is she?"

"You weighed her?"

"I needed to see that the food was making a difference."

"What about Thanksgiving?" Gary asked.

"I can't think that far."

"It's only two weeks away."

If I left the cabin to go back to the Cities, what would happen to the ghost? Would it follow me or stay behind and freeze solid in the coming winter like the water ghost?

Today, Cloud went outside for the first time since I found her. I didn't really want her to be an outdoor cat, but I also didn't want to totally deprive her of nature. I sat on the steps as she skipped and leaped around the yard. She chased leaves and ran partway up a tree. I had to go rescue her, carefully pulling her claws out of the bark. She hissed at me, then clung to me as I lifted her off the tree.

An outdoor cat has an average life span of three to four years. An indoor cat can live to be twenty. I was determined that this cat wasn't dying anytime soon.

After prying her off the tree, I took her indoors. She was all riled up from her adventure and scampered over to the curtains, climbing them to the top, scrabbling all the way.

I laughed out loud.

Gary always brought green beans with fried onion rings on top to Thanksgiving. His mom had always made them, he explained to me once, when I asked why he brought this specific dish. Gary wasn't much of a cook. Since he's joined forces with Mint she often made a lovely plate of crudités, but Gary still brought the green beans.