There Was an Old Woman

Chapter Twenty-three


Saving her a jelly doughnut had been a small thing, silly really, and yet so incredibly sweet, Evie thought as she walked back to her mother’s house licking the last of the raspberry jam from between her fingers. She only wished Finn had set aside two. She smiled, remembering that crullers were Ginger’s passion, and Finn hadn’t set aside a single one of those. That reminded her that she needed to call Ginger and tell her about the money she’d found.

She was almost back to the house when she heard a woman scream. She turned the corner to find cars blocking the street. A dark sedan with a blue light flashing in the windshield was parked in front of Mrs. Yetner’s house; behind it was Frank Cutler’s red sports car, and behind that was a dark Mercedes. Frank Cutler was up on his front porch. So was Mrs. Yetner. Another man, wearing a dark uniform, was up on the porch, too. A cop? Mrs. Yetner’s nephew Brian tipped back his red-brimmed baseball cap and looked on from the sidewalk.

As Evie watched, the uniform stepped between Frank and Mrs. Yetner. He put his arm around Mrs. Yetner and tried to herd her off the porch. Mrs. Yetner looked bewildered. Then angry. “Take your hands off me,” she said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

But the officer kept right on pushing, practically lifting the poor woman off her feet. Tendrils of white hair were flying loose from what was usually a neat bun at the nape of Mrs. Yetner’s neck, and her glasses were askew. Her nephew obviously wasn’t going to help her out. He stood there in stony silence.

“Stop!” Evie cried.

The officer must have let go, because Mrs. Yetner collapsed like a marionette on the steps of Mr. Cutler’s house. Evie dropped her coffee and charged up the steps. She sat down and put her arms around Mrs. Yetner, shielding her from the men. Cold seeped off the stone steps through the flannel of her pajama bottoms and she could feel Mrs. Yetner’s birdlike bones through her thick sweater.

“Ridiculous . . . pea-brained . . . ticket-writing nitwit.” Mrs. Yetner sputtered the words, hand to her chest as she panted for breath. “Trying to put me away.”

That’s when Evie noticed that one of the old woman’s hands was coated in mud and she had on knee-high black rubber boots pulled on over her pant legs. The boots were coated with fresh mud, too, well up over the ankles.

“Honestly, Miss Mina,” the uniformed man said, the brim of his hat pulled low over his forehead. “No one’s trying to put you away.” He rolled his eyes at Evie and tapped a finger to the side of his head.

“Fiddlesticks.” Mrs. Yetner straightened her glasses and gave him a steely look. “I’m not your Miss Mina. And I’m not nuts.”

“Of course she’s not,” Evie said, shading her eyes to get a better look at the man. A yellow shield-shaped patch was sewn to the shoulder of his dark gray zippered jacket. A silvery badge was pinned over the brim of his cap. She could make out the word SECURITY.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Yetner, though from his tone it was clear that he didn’t mean it, “but three times in the last month?” He shook his head. “Or has it been four?”

Mrs. Yetner didn’t answer. She looked frightened.

“You know it’s against the law, breaking and entering,” the officer added.

Evie felt Mrs. Yetner stiffen. She took a breath. “Now you listen to me. I was not breaking in. And I never entered. The door was open.” Mrs. Yetner jabbed a finger in the direction of Frank. “He’s the one you should arrest. He was hitting his golf balls. See?” She held out what looked like a muddy golf ball. “Into the salt marsh.”

Frank guffawed—an ugly sound. “Please, would you give me a break. If that isn’t the most absurd—”

“Absurd? Exactly. And dangerous, too,” Mrs. Yetner said. “Not to mention that the marsh is a protected area. Isn’t polluting against the law?”

“Polluting? For Chrissake, I wasn’t even here. You saw me drive up,” Frank shot back. “What’s it going to take to get you to stop harassing me?”

The officer heaved a heavy sigh. “You can always press charges.”

Frank glared at Mrs. Yetner. Then his look slid over to Evie and he wavered, the anger bleeding from his face. “I guess not. But she’d better keep off my property. I don’t want to have to file a restraining order.”

“Just you try,” Mrs. Yetner said under her breath.

“Oh yeah? And you’ll do what exactly?” Frank crossed his arms and scowled down at her. “I don’t like being threatened.”

“Neither”—Mrs. Yetner held his gaze, and as the seconds ticked by she seemed to grow calmer and calmer while he looked more and more like a balloon getting too much air blown into it—“do I.”

He was the first to look away. “Stupid cow.”

“Pardon me? What did you say?” Mrs. Yetner asked, calmer still.

Frank gave her an uneasy look. “Nothing.”

Mrs. Yetner took a deep breath. “All right then.” She straightened her back and rose to her feet. Evie stood with her. “I’m going home now. I think I’ve made my point.”

Evie retrieved Mrs. Yetner’s cane from the grass and handed it to her. But Mrs. Yetner’s first step was a stumble.

“Here,” Evie said, taking her arm again, “let me help you.” Evie could feel the men watching as she helped Mrs. Yetner cross the street.

Brian at least hurried over and took Mrs. Yetner’s other arm. “Aunt Mina, doesn’t this prove the point that I’ve been trying to make? You didn’t even remember the other times this has happened. I can only imagine what other little mishaps you’re covering up, or worse still, forgetting.”

Mrs. Yetner’s grip tightened on Evie’s arm and she blanched. The scar down the side of her face and neck was livid.

As they continued across the street, Brian went on in a quiet voice that Evie could barely hear. “You may not like it, but it’s time to start looking seriously at nursing—”

“I am not going into a nursing home,” Mina spat back at him.

“Fine. Elderly housing then. Assisted living. Call it whatever you like. Some kind of residential setting where they can give you the help you need and not make you feel like you’re being a bother.”

That stopped Mrs. Yetner in her tracks. She stared at Brian, her mouth open.

Brian went on. “Look, I know you’re not feebleminded. That’s not what this is about. But let me call around and make some appointments so you can at least see what your options are. I’ll try to set up some visits for tomorrow. Monday afternoon. All right?”

Mrs. Yetner sagged, and in a quiet voice, she said, “Oh, all right. If you must.”