Without warning, Scooter pulls me close and kisses me with such passion I fall back onto the bed, Scooter on top of me. He kisses me again, and I feel as if the world around me is falling away—the mattress, the room, the cottage—and it’s just us, holding one another while floating in the air. It feels nice. It feels right.

“You smell like fabric softener,” he finally says with a small laugh.

“You’re so charming,” I say, as he kisses me again.

When I open my eyes, I scream. There is yet another apparition hovering in the door.

“Ghost!” I yell as Scooter sits upright.

“What the hell?” he yells.

“Fantasma!” I hear Esme yelling, Sonny barking wildly. “Fantasma!”

Esme rushes into the room and tosses the laundry basket she is holding over the ghost’s head as if she is corralling a wild horse. She holds on to the basket as the figure struggles to free itself.

“Oww! Stop!” the ghost yells, before struggling to shrug off the basket and then the sheet.

“Evan?” I ask, bolting upright.

“Tu hijo?” Esme asks.

“Your son?” Scooter asks.

Sonny barks.

For a moment, we all stare at each other, doing hammy double takes, as if we’re in an episode of I Love Lucy.

Finally, Evan says, “Actually, I think I’m the one who should be a little bit scared by what I just saw.”

“I’m sorry,” Scooter says, scooting away from me on the bed, his hands in the air.

“C’mon, Ethel,” I say, grabbing Evan’s hand. “Let’s talk.”

FORTY

“This isn’t how I pictured you two meeting for the first time,” I say, standing in the kitchen making sandwiches.

“That’s not how I pictured surprising you,” Evan says. “At least I know we both have the same sense of humor.”

“That may not be a good thing,” I say.

We both burst into laughter at the same time.

“You know, I’ve been ghosted before, but this takes it to a whole new level,” Evan says. “Such a normal family.”

“Don’t I make you proud?” I ask. “Walking in on your mother making out with a stranger, and then getting a laundry basket thrown over your head?”

“Like a Hallmark movie,” Evan says.

“How do you know about Hallmark?”

“All the girls watch them on campus,” he says. “I’ve been forced to watch a few of the holiday movies, too.” Evan blows the bangs from his eyes. “They’re not so bad.” He hands me a tomato, and I can tell he wants to ask me something.

“Yes?”

“When were you going to tell me about your friend?”

“Friend? That sounds so old-fashioned,” I say.

“That’s what Grandma and Grampa always used to say, wasn’t it?” he asks.