The Evening Spider by Emily Arsenault Page B

Uncertain how I wanted to handle it, I shifted the subject.
    â€œDid you ever spend much time in the house?” I asked.
    â€œMy aunt and uncle’s house?” Gerard puckered his lips, considering the question. “No. Just holidays. My parents usually had Christmas at our house. Thanksgiving was at my uncle Eddie and aunt Shirley’s, though.”
    â€œDid you ever stay overnight?”
    â€œNo. My folks lived in Hamden then. Close. No reason to sleep over.”
    â€œNever?”
    â€œNo. Never. My sister lived in the house for a little while whenwe were teenagers. Stephanie had a little falling-out with our parents and stayed with Eddie and Shirley for a couple of months.”
    â€œOh,” I said. Lucy dropped her spoon, and I reached down to pick it up.
    A falling-out with our parents. These words made my arms stiffen, and my fingers seize up. Lucy would be a teenager someday. Maybe she’d find me intolerable then. Maybe she’d want to move in with my brother. Maybe, in fact, my head would explode.
    â€œThey were real nice to my sister, Eddie and Shirley were.”
    â€œYour sister . . . you said her name was Stephanie?”
    â€œYeah.” Gerard watched Lucy mouth the plastic spoon. I tried not to be self-conscious about letting her suck on something that had been on the floor. She did it all the time at home. With all of its health department codes, Arby’s probably kept its floor cleaner than I did mine.
    â€œMaybe she’d want that little cookbook?” I asked.
    Gerard scratched at his hairline. “I guess Patty didn’t tell you much about my sister. She’s, uh, not a sentimental person either. If I gave her the book, she’d probably sell it herself.”
    â€œBut do you want to ask her first?”
    â€œListen.” Gerard slapped both of his hands on the table between us. “I was going to tell you I’d give it to you for, say, thirty bucks. Stephanie doesn’t know it exists because she couldn’t be bothered to help me clean out our aunt’s place when she needed our help.”
    I hesitated. “Your sister . . . she still lives close to here?”
    â€œYeah. East Haven right now. And still she couldn’t come by to help. Let me do it all myself. Me and my wife.”
    â€œI’m sorry. Sounds really difficult. Does your sister have kids? A daughter? Who’d maybe want it?”
    Gerard shook his head. “Neither of us have kids. We’re the dead end on this Barnett family branch.”
    Gerard’s face seemed even pinker than it had when he’d first sat down. There was an eagerness to his expression that made me think he could really use thirty dollars at this moment in his life. A year ago I probably would’ve told him to get lost. Now, though, I didn’t feel I was up to it. I was one of the nurturers now—not out of righteousness but out of irritating instinct. I saw naked and defenseless babies everywhere.
    â€œWhy don’t you bring that cookbook in here?” I said. “It sounds kind of interesting.”
    â€œSure thing.” Gerard started to get up.
    â€œBut—before you do,” I hurried to say. “Can you answer one question for me? I know it might sound odd.”
    â€œOkay?” Gerard said.
    â€œHas anyone ever died in the house? That you know of?”
    Gerard took in a breath and then released it slowly. “Oooh. So this is one of those kinds of conversations. Why? You got a poltergeist coming through the TV or something? I promise the house isn’t built on a cemetery or whatever. At least—not that I know of.”
    â€œYou mention poltergeists.” I hesitated. “Did your aunt ever complain about anything like that?”
    Gerard shook his head. “No. But if you’ve got something spooky going on, maybe it’s just Aunt Shirley paying a visit. She didn’t want to leave the place, I’ve gotta be