There Was an Old Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

home, but Evie didn’t say so. She thanked him and headed out the door. Just before it banged shut behind her, she shot a look over her shoulder.
    He was leaning back, his arms folded, watching her and smiling. One of his front teeth was chipped. She absolutely did remember him.
    She was glad she’d worn those jeans.
    It was a few blocks from Sparkles Variety to her mother’s house. Evie was licking the last vanilla ice cream off the stick when the rich, sulfurous odor of low tide enveloped her. Many of the houses near the water had been spiffed up. One had been painted a surprisingly pleasant shade of pink and had barrels of purple and white pansies in front. Another had a brand-new front porch and incongruous double doors with fancy etched glass.
    Her mother’s street, Neck Road, ran parallel to the water. Evie turned onto it, pausing to take in the first slice of water view between close-set houses. A little farther on, she gasped when she saw the house that she no longer thought of as her home.

Chapter Five
    Her mother’s bungalow had looked run-down, sure, last time Evie was there, four months ago. But nothing like what she saw now. The cream-colored siding was tagged with bright blue graffiti, MKT75 in six-foot letters. Weeds in the front yard and driveway were knee-high. The only actual grass was sprouting from the roof gutter. The little garage, where Evie assumed her mother’s twelve-year-old silver Subaru was parked, listed away from the house.
    The first wooden front step creaked as she stepped on it. The third felt dangerously punky with rot. The screens in the metal storm door were torn. Evie pulled the storm door open, found the right key on her key ring, unlocked the front door, and pushed inside.
    A musty, sharp odor oozed out. Mold. Cigarettes. Sour milk? Eyes tearing, Evie dropped her backpack off the side of the steps and into the weeds. She took a gulp of air and held her breath, then covered her nose and mouth with the bottom of her fleece vest and ventured into the house.
    The narrow entry hall was dark. She found the light switch and flipped it. Nothing. No wonder, she realized as she shaded her eyes from the outside light. No bulb.
    Straight ahead she could make out the stairs up to the second-floor bedroom she and Ginger had shared. A narrow hallway led to a bathroom tucked under the stairs and beyond that, her parents’ bedroom.
    Evie turned instead and entered the kitchen. She threaded her way around piles of newspapers and loaded paper bags and plastic garbage bags. The sink was overflowing with dishes, and the faucet was dripping. Evie reached over and turned it off. Pushed open the red-and-white gingham curtains that were gray and crusty with dust, and opened the windows. On the sill, a row of African violets were brown and withered.
    She looked around in dismay. The little kitchen table where she and Ginger used to do their homework was adrift in papers and mail. The counters were stacked with boxes and cans. Cat food? Her mother didn’t even like cats, and yet there were dozens of empty cans of it.
    A trio of small black moths fluttered in front of her. She clapped her hands and got one of them. At least a dozen more were resting on the ceiling, and when Evie opened the cabinet where her mother had always kept cereal and crackers, more flew out.
    She poked a toe at one of the garbage bags on the floor. Glass clinked, and roaches skittered between the piles across the redbrick vinyl flooring.
    Evie made her way through the rest of the house, trying not to feel overwhelmed. The living room was full of broken lawn furniture, orphaned lampshades, and ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts. The brown vinyl-covered sectional sofa was buried under loads of rumpled clothing and bedding and newspapers. More books and magazines and newspapers were piled on the coffee table.
    In the midst of the disarray was a large packing box with the SONY logo. That’s when Evie