“So you weren’t burned in that fire, were you?” Evie said, taking a seat on the couch opposite Mrs. Yetner.

“No.”

“But how—?” Evie touched the spot on her own cheek where Mrs. Yetner had a scar on hers.

Mrs. Yetner tilted her head. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“I . . .” Evie was baffled. “Should I?”

“No. But I thought you might.”

“Why? Was I there? When?”

“A very long time ago. We’ll talk about it. Another time.” Mrs. Yetner leaned back in the chair. She looked very tired.

Evie couldn’t push her, not after the story she’d just heard. “I’ll come back and tell you all about what everyone says when they hear your story. I’ll bring you a picture showing your little Empire State Building mounted in the exhibit hall. In fact, I hope you’ll let me escort you to the gala opening. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Mrs. Yetner flushed. “Oh, good heavens. You can’t be serious.”

“You have to come. It won’t be right without you. People will be dying to meet you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And you won’t make a heroine out of me, will you?”

“Promise.”

Mrs. Yetner smiled. “Good. Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Under her breath she added, “Go out in a blaze of glory, that’s what I say.” Then she called out, “Brian! We’re done here.”

Brian came in from the kitchen. Following him was the woman who’d arrived earlier. From the neck down she looked like a visiting nurse: loose but ironed pastel hospital scrubs and a man’s watch on her wrist. But from the neck up she could have been on her way to a ladies’ lunch at Olive Garden: not a strand of her dark hair was out of place, her pink lipstick thick and carefully applied.

But she seemed to know what she was about. She went over to Mrs. Yetner and crouched in front of her, trailing a wake of gingery scent. She took one of her hands. “My name is Dora. I’ll be staying with you—”

Brian picked up Evie’s purse from the floor and handed it to her, clearly her cue to leave. Evie stood and followed him to the door.

“I think it’s great what you’re doing. Arranging it so your aunt can live where she wants to.” Evie looked up the stairs. The door at the top was closed. “Sounds like you’re doing quite a bit of work up there. My mother always wanted a second bath.”

“I am sorry about your mother,” Brian said, holding the door open for her.

“You were friends?”

“Friends?” Brian looked aghast.

“No, of course not,” Evie said. “Never mind. I’ll try to get back soon to see your aunt.”

“Dora will be here. She’ll let you know whether Aunt Mina is up to company.”

Evie wondered if there was something about Mrs. Yetner’s health that she didn’t know. She started to ask. Then thought better of it. Selfish of her, really, but she couldn’t take any more bad news.

Outside, the panel truck was gone. In the dark, Evie could see that pieces of lumber and building debris were not so much stacked as tossed, willy-nilly, in Mrs. Yetner’s driveway. It was just as well that Mrs. Yetner couldn’t see it. She’d have pitched a fit.

Chapter Fifty-one

“I had no idea that you liked Ivory,” Mina said to Brian after Evie left. “Evie said you came over in the middle of the night to look after her.”

“Is that what she told you?” Brian eyed her warily.

“And after you left, she found the whistle to my teakettle and those papers you brought over for me to sign. Know where they were? Under the couch where Ivory was hiding.”

He gave her a cool look. “You need to be more careful about where you put your things.”

“Me? Why would I put the whistle to the teakettle under the couch? And why would I stuff my eyeglasses into the base of a potted plant?”

Brian folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sure it made sense at the time.”

She wanted to strangle him.

He shook his head. “Aunt Mina, I didn’t take your teapot whistle, and I certainly didn’t hide your glasses. But I’m not sorry those things happened, especially if it helps convince you that it’s time to get some help.”

That took some of the wind out of Mina’s sails. She lowered her eyes and said, more into her lap than to Brian, “I don’t know why I need someone sleeping in the house with me.” The walker seemed like an unnecessary nuisance as well. She was sore, but not incapacitated.

“Let’s try it this way for a few nights,” Brian said, “and if you can get along without the help, we’ll let her go. In the meanwhile, try to relax and enjoy having someone wait on you.”

Mina was glad when he left a short time later, leaving her in the hands of the capable Dora. There was no point telling Brian that at her stage of life she got a lot more pleasure from taking care of herself. So she bit her tongue and let Dora take her blood pressure and listen to her heartbeat, turn down her covers, help her into her nightgown, and settle her into bed. By then, Mina’s hip was throbbing like a bad headache. She took another pain pill with the glass of warm milk Dora brought her.

Dora positioned the walker alongside the bed and set Mina’s bedroom slippers inside its perimeter. “If you have to get up in the middle of the night, it’ll be right here for you,” she said. “I know you’d rather take care of yourself, but if you need help, I’ll be right out in the living room, sleeping on the couch. I’m a light sleeper, so just call out. That’s what I’m here for.”

Dora wished her a good night and left the bedroom door ajar. Mina hadn’t even seen the day’s headlines, and she’d missed two days’ worth of obituaries. If she’d had her glasses, she’d have sat up in bed for a while, reading the paper. Instead, she lay there letting her mind wander.

What a relief it had been to talk about the day that the plane had crashed, practically right into her office widow. Evie had been a wonderful listener. She hadn’t treated Mina like a sideshow freak the way reporters had treated Betty, trailing around behind her in the months after she was pulled from the wreckage. Other than to thank her rescuers, Mina had refused to speak with the press. But now she didn’t want her story vanishing into obscurity along with the rest of her memories.

And what about the troubling news the girl had brought her? It never occurred to Mina that other homeowners were being offered the same deal with the devil that Brian had wanted her to sign, property in exchange for short-term ease. She wondered if Finn had figured out who was behind the demolition of Angela Quintanilla’s house. And what about the demolished house a few doors up from Angela’s? Were the same folks poised to bulldoze Sandra’s house?

Bulldozed houses. A battery-less fire alarm. A whistle-less teapot. A golf ball that came out of nowhere. The more Mina tried to make sense, the more the pieces slipped around. She needed to make a list. But she couldn’t rouse herself to get out of bed, never mind call Dora to get her paper and pencil. Finally she gave up and let her thoughts swirl as she stared up at the ceiling, whose cracks she knew like the back of her hand but could not see.

She could hear Dora padding around in the kitchen. An occasional thump from overhead. Could the men still be working up there? From outside came the sounds of the night. The high whistle of what might have been a nighthawk. The burr-up of a bullfrog. She’d seen one, so camouflaged he was nearly invisible, in her garden just the other day, and she’d been careful not to disturb him. Nighthawks ate what frogs ate. Insects. She was happy to share her marsh with all three.

Ivory settled and resettled beside Mina’s pillow, resting her paw possessively on Mina’s cheek. The cat had been doing that ever since she was a kitten, and it never failed to make Mina smile. She rubbed Ivory on the forehead, then turned over onto her good side. Soon she’d drifted off, only dimly aware some time later of quiet footsteps. Dora was in her bedroom. Closing the windows. Drawing the shades.