Chapter 4: Calloway Street
I didn't know what to expect.
Justin had described Mrs.
Patton once, briefly, as "the lady with the roses who watches from the window." That was the full picture I had.
An old woman behind glass.
Watching.
Waiting.
The officers gave us her address before they left.
The first one — Officer Darnell, his name tag said — shook Justin's hand at the door.
A real handshake.
The kind adults give each other.
"You're a good kid," he said.
Justin nodded like he didn't quite know what to do with that.
We drove to Calloway Street that afternoon.
It was a quiet block, older houses, deep yards, the kind of neighborhood that had been there long enough to have real trees instead of the thin new ones developers plant.
Mrs.
Patton's house was pale yellow with white trim.
The roses along the fence were still blooming, late-summer red, fuller than they had any right to be in the heat.
Justin saw them through the car window.
"Those are Harold's," he said.
I looked at him.
"You knew?"
"She told me.
Second time I came." He paused.
"She came outside that time.
She was going to tell me to leave.
But then she just — started talking about him instead."
I pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine.
We sat there for a second.
"Justin.
Why didn't you tell me about her?"
He thought about it.
"I don't know.
It felt like it was hers.
Like if I talked about it too much it would stop being — quiet."
I didn't say anything to that.
I wasn't sure I could.
We walked to the door.
Justin knocked.
A long pause.
Then the sound of slow steps.
The door opened and Eleanor Patton stood in the frame.
She was small, white-haired, with sharp blue eyes that moved immediately to Justin and stayed there.
She didn't say anything for a moment.
Justin held out the envelope.
"Mrs.
Patton.
I can't take this."
Her eyes dropped to the envelope.
Then back to his face.
"I was afraid you'd say that," she said.
Her voice was dry and a little amused.
"You'd better come in."
The house smelled like old books and something baking.
She moved slowly but without hesitation, leading us into a sitting room where a small television was on with the sound turned low.
A framed photograph sat on the side table.
A man with a wide smile, standing next to a rosebush.
Harold.
Justin looked at the photograph and then looked away, the way you do when you've accidentally seen something private.
Mrs.
Patton settled into her chair.
She looked at Justin steadily.
"Sit down," she said.
May you like
"Both of you.
And don't argue with me until I've finished talking."
