“Ghost Maiden of Roanoke,” she said. “It’s one of his better ones, lots of se…lots of kissing and hugging.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Sorry, kiddo, but the ladies love those pounding hearts and torrid thighs.” She looked at the bag with Ghost Maiden of Roanoke inside, secured with the usual six or eight rubber bands, one of which always snapped and made Mom give out some of her best swears. Many of which I still use. “Now I feel like I don’t want to do anything but have a glass of wine. Maybe the whole bottle. Mona Burkett was a prize pain the ass, he might actually be better off without her, but right now he’s gutted. I hope to God he’s got relatives, because I don’t relish the idea of being Comforter in Chief.”

“She loved him, too,” I said.

Mom gave me a strange look. “Yeah? You think?”

“I know. She said something mean about my turkey, but then she cried and kissed him on the cheek.”

“You imagined that, James,” she said, but half-heartedly. She knew better by then, I’m sure she did, but grownups have a tough time believing, and I’ll tell you why. When they find out as kids that Santa Claus is a fake and Goldilocks isn’t a real girl and the Easter Bunny is bullshit—just three examples, I could give more—it makes a complex and they stop believing anything they can’t see for themselves.

“Nope, didn’t imagine it. She said I’d never be Rembrandt. Who is that?”

“An artist,” she said, and blew her bangs back again. I don’t know why she didn’t just cut them or wear her hair a different way. Which she could, because she was really pretty.

“When we go down there to eat, don’t you dare say anything to Mr. Burkett about what you think you saw.”

“I won’t,” I said, “but she was right. My turkey sucks.” I felt bad about that.

I guess it showed, because she held out her arms. “Come here, kiddo.”

I came and hugged her.

“Your turkey is beautiful. It’s the most beautiful turkey I ever saw. I’m going to put it up on the refrigerator and it will stay there forever.”

I hugged as tight as I could and put my face in the hollow of her shoulder so I could smell her perfume. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Jamie, a million bunches. Now go play or watch TV. I need to roll some calls before ordering the Chinese.”

“Okay.” I started for my room, then stopped. “She put her rings on the top shelf of the hall closet, behind some scrap-books.”

My mother stared at me with her mouth open. “Why would she do that?”

“I asked her and she said she didn’t know. She said by then her thoughts were drownding in blood.”

“Oh my God,” Mom whispered, and put her hand to her neck.

“You should figure out a way to tell him when we have the Chinese. Then he won’t worry about it. Can I have General Tso’s?”

“Yes,” she said. “And brown rice, not white.”

“Right right right,” I said, and went to play with my Legos. I was making a robot.

3

The Burketts’ apartment was smaller than ours, but nice. After dinner, while we were having our fortune cookies (mine said A feather in the hand is better than a bird in the air, which makes no sense at all), Mom said, “Have you checked the closets, Marty? For her rings, I mean?”

“Why would she put her rings in a closet?” A sensible enough question.

“Well, if she was having a stroke, she might not have been thinking too clearly.”

We were eating at the little round table in the kitchen nook. Mrs. Burkett was sitting on one of the stools at the counter and nodded vigorously when Mom said that.

“Maybe I’ll check,” Mr. Burkett said. He sounded pretty vague. “Right now I’m too tired and upset.”

“You check the bedroom closet when you get around to it,” Mom said. “I’ll check the one in the hall right now. A little stretching will do me good after all that sweet and sour pork.”

Mrs. Burkett said, “Did she think that up all by herself? I didn’t know she was that smart.” Already she was getting hard to hear. After awhile I wouldn’t be able to hear her at all, just see her mouth moving, like she was behind a thick pane of glass. Pretty soon after that she’d be gone.

“My mom’s plenty smart,” I said.

“Never said she wasn’t,” Mr. Burkett said, “but if she finds those rings in the front hall closet, I’ll eat my hat.”

Just then my mother said “Bingo!” and came in with the rings on the palm of one outstretched hand. The wedding ring was pretty ordinary, but the engagement ring was as big as an eyeball. A real sparkler.

“Oh my God!” Mr. Burkett cried. “How in God’s name…?”

“I prayed to St. Anthony,” Mom said, but cast a quick glance my way. And a smile. “‘Tony, Tony, come around! Something’s lost that must be found!’ And as you see, it worked.”

I thought about asking Mr. Burkett if he wanted salt and pepper on his hat, but didn’t. It wasn’t the right time to be funny, and besides, it’s like my mother always says—nobody loves a smartass.

4

The funeral was three days later. It was my first one, and interesting, but not what you’d call fun. At least my mother didn’t have to be Comforter in Chief. Mr. Burkett had a sister and brother to take care of that. They were old, but not as old as he was. Mr. Burkett cried all the way through the service and the sister kept handing him Kleenex. Her purse seemed to be full of them. I’m surprised she had room for anything else.

That night mom and I had pizza from Domino’s. She had wine and I had Kool-Aid as a special treat for being good at the funeral. When we were down to the last piece of the pie, she asked me if I thought Mrs. Burkett had been there.

“Yeah. She was sitting on the steps leading up to the place where the minister and her friends talked.”

“The pulpit. Could you…” She picked up the last slice, looked at it, then put it down and looked at me. “Could you see through her?”

“Like a movie ghost, you mean?”

“Yes. I suppose that is what I mean.”

“Nope. She was all there, but still in her nightgown. I was surprised to see her, because she died three days ago. They don’t usually last that long.”

“They just disappear?” Like she was trying to get it straight in her mind. I could tell she didn’t like talking about it, but I was glad she was. It was a relief.

“Yeah.”

“What was she doing, Jamie?”

“Just sitting there. Once or twice she looked at her coffin, but mostly she looked at him.”

“At Mr. Burkett. Marty.”

“Right. She said something once, but I couldn’t hear. Pretty soon after they die, their voices start to fade away, like turning down the music on the car radio. After awhile you can’t hear them at all.”

“And then they’re gone.”

“Yes,” I said. There was a lump in my throat, so I drank the rest of my Kool-Aid to make it go away. “Gone.”