Read To Catch a Leaf for Free Online

completely. The wooden porch listed to one side. The garage, set some distance behind the house at the end of a gravel driveway, had boarded up windows.
    The Donnellys had moved out years before, but because no one wanted to buy the old homestead, they had used it as rental property instead. I’d heard the inside was in better shape than the outside, but had yet to verify the claim. Regardless, the ghost aspect would give me something to chat about with the renters.
    I pulled into the gravel driveway, turned off the engine, scooped up the bouquet, and walked across the weed-infested lawn to the covered porch across the front of the narrow house. As I climbed the five steps, holding on to the weathered rail in case any of the boards gave out, I noticed heavy drapes on the pair of double-hung windows to the right of the door. It seemed odd to have them closed on such a beautiful sunny day.
    I pushed the doorbell and heard a sudden pounding of heavy footsteps that got fainter instead of louder, as though someone was hurrying away. Then the door opened and there stood an attractive older woman with white hair cut in a blunt bob.
    She had on a turquoise blouse, white slacks, and shiny silver flats—not the kind of shoe that would make much noise. She wore thick silver hoops in her ears, heavy, cuffed silver bracelets on both arms, and big turquoise rings on her fingers. She was taller than me, but at my height of five feet two inches, most people were. Her makeup had been put on with a light hand, her lips tinted a pretty peach color, and her eyelids a smoky gray. She had the attractive good looks of an aging movie star. Not the kind of person I’d expected to see renting a dilapidated house.
    She smiled at me. “Yes?”
    I didn’t want to hand over the bouquet until I’d engaged her in conversation, hoping to keep her from closing the door in my face. So I said, “Have you heard that Johnny Appleseed stayed in this house when he was passing through town?”
    â€œReally? Any truth to it?”
    â€œAccording to the farmers around here, it’s true.”
    â€œHow interesting.” She wasn’t listening. Her gaze was on the wrapped flowers.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry. These are for you. I’m Abby Knight. I own Bloomers Flower Shop. I wanted to meet the woman who qualifies for getting the most floral deliveries in one month.”
    â€œAnother bouquet,” she said excitedly, peeling away the paper to see what it looked like. “Oh, it’s so pretty! A calla. My favorite flower. And these greens are?”
    â€œBasil.”
    â€œCalla and basil. How thoughtful my son is. He knows I adore them both. He spoils me terribly, I’m afraid. I used to tell him that one day I’d be so rich that I’d have fresh flowers delivered once a week. Well,” she said with a light laugh, “as you can see, that never happened. But my son never forgot.” She sighed wist-fully. “Being a widow isn’t easy. It’s small pleasures like these that make life bearable.”
    The door had gradually swung open behind her, giving me a glimpse up a hallway to what appeared to be a kitchen. There I saw a tall, bulky man pass by the doorway.
    The woman glanced back to see what I was looking at. “That’s my youngest son. I have three boys, all single unfortunately. Two of them live here with me so I won’t be all alone.” She shielded one side of her mouth and whispered, “My oldest boy is the only successful one, sad to say. I don’t know what happened to the gene pool after he was born.”
    â€œGenes can be tricky. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
    â€œDorothy,” she said, “but please call me Dot.”
    â€œHey, Ma,” one of her sons called from the kitchen. “The oven’s smoking. Want me to take out the bird?”
    â€œI’d better go,” Dot said with an exasperated sigh.