There Was an Old Woman by Hallie Ephron

maybe you lost them? It’s okay if you did. I can print another copy. Or maybe the typeface was too small? Was that the problem?”
    â€œThere’s no problem.”
    â€œAunt Mina, I know we’ve had our differences over the years, and when Mom got sick, I was pretty useless.”
    That took her aback. She hadn’t credited him with that much self-awareness. What was he up to?
    â€œBut this isn’t for me,” he went on. “It’s for you. Your money won’t last forever, and this would offer you financial security. You’d be set for life. Think of it as your silver safety net.”
    Snake oil was more like it. And what business did he have sniffing around in her finances?
    â€œThank you very much, but I’m already set for life, or at least for what life I’ve got left. And if not, well, that’s not your problem, is it? Don’t worry, you’ll own the house when I die.”
    â€œI don’t want this goddamned house!” Brian slammed his hand down so hard on the kitchen table that the salt and pepper shakers jumped.
    Mina took a step back, her hand at her throat. Suddenly she felt very alone.
    â€œSorry, sorry!” Brian put up his hands. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that talking to you . . . sometimes talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. Please try to think about it, Aunt Mina. You’d have security. A regular income.”
    Mina sucked in her cheeks and stared at him. He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, as if the good Lord Himself was up there, commiserating. She followed his lingering gaze to the scorch mark on the ceiling. That was from a few weeks ago when she’d ruined her mother’s teakettle and, in the process, set fire to the kitchen curtains.
    Mina turned and opened the corner cabinet. One at a time, she hung each teacup on its hook and set each saucer on the stack. She closed the cabinet and turned back to him. “I’m sure I put those papers somewhere. We can talk about it next time you come for a visit.”
    â€œIf you can’t find them, I’ll bring another copy. We can sit down and read it together.” Brian was like a dog worrying a bone long after there wasn’t a shred of meat left on it.
    Pivoting away from him again, Mina walked to the sink and turned on the tap. She ran the water hard, shook some Ajax onto the porcelain, and began to scrub it down. As she worked at a stubborn stain, her hand spasmed. She dropped the sponge, frozen by the painful cramp that contracted her hand into a claw. Damned arthritis. She flattened her hand on the counter, spread her fingers, and waited for the muscles to relax. She snuck a look over her shoulder to see if Brian had noticed. But he was already moving toward the door.
    As she rinsed away the suds, she heard the front door open and close. At last he was gone. She turned off the water and stood there, holding on to the thick cool edge of the sink. Didn’t want the house? Pfff. She knew full well this house was the only reason he kept showing up and sniffing about. She and Annabelle had owned the house outright for years, ever since their mother died. Unencumbered. That single word had given Mina peace of mind, knowing all she had to do was pay the taxes and keep up with repairs.
    Brian knew exactly how she felt. He couldn’t even look her in the eye when he’d spouted all that mumbo jumbo about a security net and regular income. She should have destroyed those papers instead of hiding them and feigning ignorance. She should have burned them. That’s what she’d do now.
    She remembered exactly where she’d put them. She went into the living room and lifted the sofa cushion she’d been sitting on.
    The papers were gone.

Chapter Eleven
    Evie could hear Mrs. Yetner and her nephew arguing even before the door closed behind her. Tolstoy’s famous quote came to mind: Every unhappy family was