January 22

areas had finally been cleared, but there were still weather-related accidents, and Anne’s sliding into a Long View ditch was one of them.  She and her friends had ended up with the Honda’s rusty, now-lopsided bumper jammed against Lovey Faye’s broken mailbox.

Lovey Faye lived in a decrepit house in the deep hollow between Long View Road and Booster Hill.  Poking out from the house’s crumbling architecture like sprung nails were Lovey’s 25 cats.  A wise old German shepherd named Gen guarded this deteriorating pile.

“I told you we shouldn’t have taken the Barkeyville back road,” Jude grumbled, irritated because her feet felt like ice cubes.

Dane approached the numb trio and held out his hand.  “Who’s got the keys?”

“Here,” Anne handed them over, her arched brows warning him off.  Still, the mechanic’s fingers held her mitten a moment too long.

“How’re you gals getting home?” 

“My husband will come for us.”  To demonstrate her intention, Anne thrust forward her cell phone nearly up Dane’s nose.

“Okay,” he shrugged, stepping back, still grinning. “I’ll call you when the car’s fixed…at the end of this week sometime.”  He jerked his head toward the snow-covered, crumbling domicile on his right.  “Sure you want me to leave you here in front of the Crazy Old Cat Lady’s?”

Watching the tow truck disappear down the road, pulling the Honda along like a reluctant child, the girls felt more uncertain about their decision to stay behind.  But Anne reached John at the cafe and he promised to arrive in ten minutes.  Stuffing the phone back into her parka, her dark eyes surveyed the situation.  “Do you think she’ll let us wait inside?”

“Do we really want to?” Jude affected an evil cackle. “That’s not junk on top of her house; it’s gingerbread and frosting and chocolate chip cookies and lollipops and carrot cake and doughnuts….”

“Shut up!  You’re making me hungry.”  Nonnie punched Jude’s arm. “You’re Gretel, I’m Hansel and Anne can be a Jewish Cinderella.  But let’s get out of this cold air, for God’s sake!”

The need for warmth had them plowing across the yard to knock on the old woman’s sagging front door.  Once it opened they couldn’t tell whether it was the searing odor of cat urine, the wormy feeling of damp earth, the tangled mass of objects and animals, or Lovey herself that was most repellent.

She was shrouded in spiderwebby, torn lace; knots of white, uncombed hair snaked down her frail back and she peered at them with opaque, marble eyes.  In shocking contrast was the black cat sitting on her shoulder.

The woman said, “Hello, dears. I’m Audetta Faye and this is the Polydactyl Princess”.