Little Sister by Patricia MacDonald

to pick the paper up. As she reached for it her gaze fell on the feet and then the bent legs of a shadowy figure, crouching in the bushes beside the steps.
    Beth screamed and scrambled up, stifling her cry with her fist.
    The figure jerked back, as if ready to run.
    “Show yourself,” Beth demanded in a shaky voice. “I’ll call the cops.”
    The person hesitated and then stood up and edged forward into the arc of the porch light. Beth felt the scowl on her face turn into a blush as she recognized the young man from the convenience store, the one who had driven her to the funeral home. His clean, disheveled dark hair shone in the lamplight. He met her gaze with a wary, slightly sheepish look. His thin shoulders were tensely hunched up in his threadbare overcoat, his hands stuffed in the pockets.
    “Sorry,” he mumbled.
    “What are you doing,” Beth demanded, “creeping around here?”
    The boy shrugged. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    She was about to protest again when it suddenly occurred to her what he might be doing there. It hardly seemed likely, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation. The boy had tracked her down. She peered at him more closely. He was staring shyly down at his own feet.
    “I didn’t expect to see you again,” she said.
    “Surprised you, I guess.”
    This is silly, Beth told herself. But at the same time she could not help feeling a little flattered. She tried to sound stern, but there was a trace of warmth in her tone, and she felt a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, for heaven’s sake, do you always go lurking around in bushes like this?”
    The boy laughed nervously and shrugged again.
    “I don’t remember telling you where to find me,” said Beth.
    “It wasn’t hard. I figured you’d be here,” he said.
    Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Aha, a sleuth.” She tried to keep her tone brisk so as not to appear flustered by this obvious, unexpected display of interest. “Well, I’m flattered that you went to the trouble, but next time I think you’d be better off knocking on the door rather than skulking around like that—”
    Just then a voice behind her cried out, “Andrew,” and Francie came out of the house in her stocking feet, bounded down the steps, and threw herself at the young man. She hugged him around the neck and then quickly let him loose. She grabbed his hand and looked at him with shining eyes.
    “Hey, babe,” he said, giving her a sly smile and squeezing her hand.
    For a moment Beth blinked at them in confusion, and then she felt the color rise to her cheeks.
    “Come inside,” Francie pleaded, dragging him by the hand toward the house. “It’s wet out here. Oh, I’m so glad to see you.” She pulled him to the step and then seemed to recall that Beth was there.
    “Andrew,” she said, “this is my sister, Beth.”
    “I know,” said the boy, grinning and winking at Beth. “I already met her.”
    “You did. When?” asked Francie suspiciously.
    “At the store today,” he said. “I gave her a ride to Sullivan’s.”
    “You did?” Francie frowned at Andrew and then looked at Beth.
    Beth nodded, but her lips were pressed tightly together, and she stared at the boy with narrowed eyes. Andrew avoided looking at her.
    “Well, that was nice of you,” said Francie.
    “Why did you say you didn’t know who I was? Or Francie, for that matter?” asked Beth in a harsh voice.
    Andrew shook his head and waved a hand as if to dismiss it. “It was just a little joke.”
    Beth glared at him. Yeah, and I was the butt of it, she thought.
    “It was easier than explaining,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable. “It was just—I don’t know. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His eyes widened, as if he were hurt by her attitude.
    Beth closed her eyes for a second and tried to stop herself from losing her temper. But she felt ridiculous, like some foolish old maid who thought every man was after her. And he knew he had