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“Of course. Do you need a hand with that?”

“I’m alright, dear.” She shifted the box against her hip. “Although I might accept a cup of coffee if you’re offering.”

“I can certainly manage that.” I stepped aside to let her in, took the box before she could protest again, and led her into the kitchen. She settled at the table while I found another mug and poured her some coffee. Sylvester appeared almost immediately, drawn by the possibility that a visitor might be more generous with treats than I was. He rubbed against her ankle, then looked up at me as if I were responsible for the fact that she had arrived empty-handed.

“You see?” she said, scratching his head. “He knows me.”

“He knows everyone who has ever fed him. I suspect he could draw a map of Hartwell Cove based entirely on the locations of his favorite meals.”

She laughed and reached down to give him another stroke before turning back to me. “The reason I came over is that Mike and I are leaving for New Mexico on Friday. We’ll be spending the winter there again, and I wanted to settle one thing before we go.”

I glanced at the box on the table. Inside were several partly used bags of cat food, a container of treats, and a packet of the litter she used for Sylvester. I looked from the supplies to her face, beginning to suspect where this conversation was going.

“Those are for you,” she said. “Well, for Sylvester, really. I thought you could use what’s left before you buy more.”

“That’s very kind, but you don’t have to - ”

“Max, dear, please let me finish.” Her voice remained gentle, but there was a firmness beneath it that reminded me of my mother when she had decided a discussion was over before it began. “We’ve talked about this for years. He spends half his time at your house, and lately it’s been considerably more than half. You feed him, you make sure he has fresh water, and you’ve provided him with a bed. You’ve even been collecting the things he steals from other people and trying to return them.”

“Someone has to maintain public order.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “And now we’re going away for the winter. I don’t want to leave him with someone who doesn’t know him, and I certainly don’t want him wandering around wondering where we’ve gone. He knows you, and he’s comfortable here. I think it’s time we admitted what he’s already decided.”

I looked down at the cat. Sylvester had settled beside my chair, his tail curled around his paws, apparently unconcerned that his future was being discussed as though he weren’t sitting right there. When I met his eyes, he blinked slowly and began purring.

“You’re saying he’s mine now?”

“I’m saying he’s been yours in everything but paperwork for a long time.” She reached into her handbag and took out a folded sheet of paper. “I’ve written down his usual food, the litter he prefers, and the name of his veterinarian, in case you need it. I’ll give you the clinic’s number as well. He’s healthy, he’s up to date on his shots, and there’s nothing you need to worry about beyond keeping him fed and making sure he doesn’t steal the neighbors’ laundry.”

“That last part might be beyond my abilities.”

“I suspect it’s beyond everyone’s abilities.”

I laughed, but the sound caught somewhere in my chest when I looked at the box again. Sylvester had been visiting me for three and a half years. I’d grown accustomed to finding him on the porch, nudging my hand for attention, or appearing at the window with some questionable trophy in his mouth. I’d made room for him without really acknowledging that I had done it. A bed had appeared in the corner, followed by food bowls and treats, and eventually I’d stopped thinking of his visits as interruptions. Now someone was offering me the chance to call it what it was.

“I don’t mind looking after him,” I said carefully. “You know that. I just don’t want you to think I’m taking him away from you.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her expression softened. “We’re not abandoning him. We’re making sure he has a good home while we’re away, and I suspect he’ll be perfectly happy to visit us when we come back. If he decides he wants to. You know what cats are like.”

I did. Sylvester had never shown the slightest interest in obeying anyone’s expectations, including his own owner’s. He went where he wanted, slept where he pleased, and seemed to regard affection as something he bestowed on humans when they had earned it. The idea that he might be staying with me permanently should have felt like a responsibility. Instead, it left me feeling oddly touched.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll take care of him.”

“I knew you would.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You’ve been taking care of him all along.”

After she left, I carried the box to the pantry and put the supplies away. There wasn’t enough food or litter to last very long, but it was a start. I made a note to stop at the store later and buy enough for the winter, along with a few other things I’d been putting off. Sylvester followed me from the pantry to the kitchen, watching each movement with the intense interest he usually reserved for opening a tin.

“You heard that, did you?” I asked him. “Apparently, you live here now.”

He rubbed against my leg and purred. “I’d appreciate it if you could contribute to the household expenses.”

He looked at me as if I’d said something ridiculous, then trotted toward the living room.

“Fine. I’ll put you down as emotionally supportive.”

I smiled as I watched him settle on the couch. The house had always felt comfortable enough, but it was strange how much warmer it seemed with a cat moving through it as though he belonged. I knew better than to make too much of that feeling. A cat was a cat, and giving one a home was not the same as deciding to change the rest of my life.

Still, I found myself thinking about the way Josiah had covered me with his jacket at the sheriff’s office, careful not to wake me, and how he’d offered me coffee the following morning without making demands. He was trying to make room for me again, too, but I wasn’t ready to decide what that meant. I could accept a kindness without treating it as a promise. I could let someone get closer without handing him the keys to every vulnerable part of me. One small step at a time, I reminded myself. That was how I’d managed to build a life I liked after Josiah left, and it was how I’d have to figure out whether there was room for him in it now.