There Was an Old Woman

Chapter Twenty


Cocooned in blankets on the mattress she’d dragged down from upstairs, Evie woke up thinking: jelly doughnut, jelly doughnut, jelly doughnut. She’d completely forgotten about those doughnuts, and how her dad used to make what he called his “doughnut run” on Sunday mornings. Coated with velvety powdered sugar, the light cakey doughnut left not a trace of the usual greasy film that said “store-bought.” Sparkles’ doughnuts had been literally jam-packed, front to back, so every bite risked spurting some of the filling out the other end—filling that was in a league of its own, too, thick and tangy and intensely raspberry. Not that pallid, sugary-sweet, gelatinous stuff that doughnuts were filled with these days.

Could the doughnuts Finn said they still sold be anywhere near as good as the ones she remembered? It was worth a trip to find out.

Evie rolled off the mattress onto the living room floor. She ached from all the lifting and bending she’d done the day before. Still wrapped in a quilt, she made her way to the bathroom. After washing her hands, she opened the medicine cabinet looking for toothpaste. No toothpaste, but the medicine cabinet was stocked: Nyquil, Excedrin, a few bottles of bright red nail polish and nail polish remover. Plus numerous bottles of various shapes and sizes, all with pale-green NaturaPharm labels. Vitamin A. Thiamin B1. Riboflavin B2. Niacin B3. Vitamin C. Calcium. And more. It was an impressive collection.

Evie found a tube of Crest in the drawer. As she brushed her teeth, she wondered when her mother had started taking vitamins. Even more surprisingly, given the complete disarray of the rest of the house, she’d kept them lined them up in her medicine cabinet in alphabetical order.

Evie didn’t bother changing out of the plaid flannel pajama bottoms and NYU sweatshirt she’d slept in, though she did take a moment to brush her hair into a ponytail and wash her face, checking that she didn’t have flecks of sleep still in her eyes. She was about to leave when she paused. If Finn saw her sorting the mail in the house, anyone could have. She went back inside, took the envelopes of cash from under the mattress, stuffed them into her purse, and took her purse with her.

As she locked the front door, she remembered how her parents and all their neighbors used to leave their doors unlocked. It didn’t really surprise her that her mother had given a garage key to Finn. That way, she wouldn’t need to worry about being there when the deliveries arrived; more to the point, she wouldn’t have had to worry about being sober or even awake.

Evie was out on the sidewalk before she realized that the steps hadn’t creaked. She went back to inspect them. New planks were already in place. Finn must have come over at the crack of dawn to do the work.

Evie started for Sparkles at a brisk clip. The morning was chilly, but with each stride away from the water the air grew warmer, and she slowed her pace. She checked her phone on the off chance that she’d missed any calls. Nothing from the hospital. Nothing from Seth. She was as relieved by the latter as by the former.

She’d been surprised that Finn had known instantly where her father’s fire station, Rescue 3, was located. She hoped he wasn’t one of those fire freaks—sparkies, her dad used to call them—men who chased the apparatus and were so obsessed with the spectacle that they didn’t have the good sense to get out of the way. When Evie’s parents’ house had burned, a group of them had come to watch, eager to add the Ferrantes’ address to the list of fires they’d witnessed firsthand. Meanwhile their mother tried to comfort Evie and Ginger, who were crying hysterically, knowing the dogs were still in the house.

That day, news vans and police vehicles had parked at Sparkles. Now the half-dozen parking spaces outside the store were filled. She went inside, taking a deep inhale of rich coffee aroma. Two checkout lines were operating to handle the morning crush. She got in Finn’s line. She caught his eye and mouthed Thank you! He flashed her a thumbs-up.

As Evie waited her turn at the register, from outside she heard the polite toot-toot of a car horn. Through the plate-glass window she caught a glimpse of the outside parking area. A dark Mercedes was pulling out. A moment later, a Land Rover pulled in.

Land Rover? Mercedes? That made her take a second look at the other people in line. They were more racially mixed, and some were speaking Spanish, but otherwise they were not all that different from the clientele who lined up at Dunkin’ Donuts in her quickly gentrifying Brooklyn neighborhood.

Finally she was at the front of the line. But by then only a few plain cake, chocolate iced, and glazed doughnuts remained in the glass case. No jelly. It was ridiculous how disappointed she felt.

“I saved you one,” Finn said, reaching under the counter and bringing out a little paper plate holding a single perfect powdered-sugar-covered jelly doughnut.