Page 43

the next day, I packed up the salad and the pie and

headed for the bus stop. I had to walk three blocks to

Steve's neighborhood after I got off the bus and it

wasn't the nicest section of the city. Some of the

houses looked downright deserted. The streets were

dirty and there were broken-down cars that looked

like they had been left there for months.

"His house was small with just a patch of grass

in the front. Some of the grass looked yellow and

there were big dead spots. The front porch on the

house leaned to one side like it had collapsed after an

earthquake or the beams holding it up had just rotted:

A front window had a crack in it and most of the

siding was peeled and faded badly. The truth is when I

first came upon it, I thought I might have the wrong

address. I didn't think anyone lived in this one either. "However, Steve must have been watching for

me because the moment I turned into his short,

chipped and broken cement sidewalk, he stepped out

the front door.

"'Welcome to my palace,' he said with a

crooked smile, holding his arms out wide.

"'How long have you lived here?' I asked trying

not to sound too critical.

"'Long as I can remember. It was my grandpa's

house, my father's daddy. When he died, it was practically all he had to leave to him, I guess. Once it was

nice. I know because I've seen some pictures. "'Well, come on inside. No sense in putting it

off,' he added.

"You could tell two men lived there by

themselves the moment you stepped through the door.

The living room furniture needed a good dusting, the