<br><br><center>*Ostensibly, we were both chasing a ghost, 
but she was the one haunting me.
―John J Geddes*
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![ZBN2.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQ6XDsGcaxCpsqyNDrGyefu4U8m7A7b8M8KXqb3kJxSSu/ZBN2.png)
*Zadie*</center>

<br><br>I tried to downplay it but Moss was right―I was more interested in Zadie than catching a ghost. The dinner invitation was a pretext for spending time with her. The ghost girl wasn't haunting me, but Zadie was. 

I loved everything about her.

On the way home from the library I stopped by the supermarket and bought all the ingredients I'd need for the lasagna, including the salad, rolls and several bottles of *Yellow Tail* cab sav, which wasn't exactly Italian but was a smooth red that would go well with pasta.

<br><br>My arms were full of groceries when I let myself in and then was scared witless by sirens that went off because I tripped the alarm system.

It took me a minute to silence the din because the stress of the ear-piercing alarms caused me to go blank and I had to struggle to recall the password.

When I finally quashed the wail, my cell buzzed and I had to repeat the procedure with the monitors from the alarm company. 

Note to Self: *Always disarm the system before entering the house.*  The ringing in my ears took several minutes and a full glass of wine to finally subside.

<br><br>I felt like taking a nap rather than preparing a meal but I had four hours before Zadie was set to arrive, so I decided to go for a jog to clear my head.

I changed into my jogging gear―fleece-lined, because of the cold, and made sure I armed the system and had my phone before I set out on my jog.

It was almost a month before Christmas and they were forecasting a heavy snowfall in the evening. It crossed my mind that Zadie might cancel, but it also crossed my mind we might get snowbound and she'd have to stay the night.

Neither scenario seemed likely but the temperature was dropping. I cut my jog short because the wind was roaring in the tops of the pines and I was worried a widow-making tree might come down and end my plans permanently.

<br><br>This time I made sure I punched in the code on the keypad before the system could deafen me. Already snow was dancing outside the window and the worry that Zadie might call and cancel seemed a real possibility.

But after I made coffee the flurries died leaving only a dusting of snow on the lawns and trees. If anything, it would add a festive note to the evening―after all, Dickens' *A Christmas Carol* was essentially a ghost story.

Snow and ghosts seemed appropriate, I mused and tried to distract myself from worrying if Zadie would show by preparing the lasagna and refrigerating it until it was time to put it in the oven.

*Calm and steady,* I repeated the mantra, but it wasn't just my usual tendency to be anxious about things―I was obsessing and this time it wasn't the ghost but Zadie who was haunting me.



<br><br> <center>To be continued…</center>

<br><center>© 2022, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

<br><center>[Photo](https://wallhere.com/en/wallpaper/613842)</center>
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