I blew my nose on a ratty tissue and jammed it back in my pocket along with my gloves. An hour of shoveling snow had made me too hot to need gloves or the hat I had started with. I jammed that in my pocket, too.
Now that my driveway was done, it was time to make some real money. I trudged through snowy sidewalks to the top of the street. Not too many signs of life this early in the morning.
McKay’s dog was out. You couldn’t miss his paw prints. And the Patel twins were outside making a snowman. I could see Mrs. Patel watching them through her front window and laughing.
Two doors further along was my best customer, Mrs. Haney. I stopped before I walked up the sidewalk to her house. Tire tracks led into the driveway and then right back out again. Footprints came from the passenger side and up the porch to her front door. Must have been a taxi, I thought, or someone dropped him off. I looked at the footprints. It was definitely a him, with feet that size. A smoker, too, I thought, noticing a dead match and the stub of a cigar in the pile of snow that was Mrs. Haney’s front flower bed.
I rang the doorbell and gave her a bit of time to get there. She was a nice lady, but a bit of a slow mover.
The door opened and Mrs. Haney peeked her head around. Her face was white. I wondered if she was sick.
She opened the door a little more, and I could smell cigar smoke from inside. I didn’t think she’d like that very much.
“You want your snow shoveled, Mrs. H?” I asked.
“I’m not sure today, Todd,” she said. Maybe it was the smoke that was making her look so pale.
“That’s okay,” I said, “if your visitor is going to do it for you.”
“Visitor?” She looked behind her guiltily. “I don’t know what you mean. Um. You’d better shovel the snow as usual,” she said.
She opened the door just a little wider. I couldn’t see if anybody was there, just the table in the hall and the photograph of her husband and stepson that I’d seen a hundred times. She took a quick glance at the table, too, and then looked at me. “Just ring the bell when you’re done, and I’ll have the money ready.”
She shut the door, and I ducked around the corner of the house and phoned my mom. Then I started shoveling the snow.
Half an hour later, I went up the steps and rang the bell. Mrs. H opened the door, still pale. She had my money in her hand.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. H but I knocked off the bottom of the drain spout by the garage. I’ve replaced it with a spare one from our house. Can you come and have a look? I want to make sure it’s on properly. Won’t take a second.”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Todd.”
“I’d still like you to make sure. If we get a thaw and it’s not right, there could be a real mess. My mom told me to check with you before I came home.”
“Okay, Todd.” Mrs. H. slipped on a pair of duckies and grabbed her coat from a hook by the door.
When we got to the garage, my mom was waiting. “It will be over soon, Marjory,” she said giving her a hug.
And she was right. The cops took a matter of minutes to enter the house and come out again with Mrs. H’s stepson.
Over hot chocolate in Mrs. H’s kitchen, I complimented her on how well she’d handled the whole thing. “I wasn’t sure that you’d got the hint when I opened the door and looked at the table.”
“I knew there was someone in the house because I’d seen the footprints, but when I looked at the table and saw the photo of your husband and your stepson, both smoking cigars, I knew you were in trouble.”
“My stepson escaped from prison two days ago,” she explained. “One of his friends dropped him off here late last night. He planned to stay with me until another one of his friends picked him up tonight. Then they were going to head west. I didn’t know what to do. My husband was a wonderful man, but his son had been in trouble with the law from a youngster. It hurt my husband to see him turn out that way. There were times when the boy could be so nice.”
“Well, he’s out of your life now,” said my mom.
“My sister has invited me to come and live with her in Port Elgin,” said Mrs. H. “She and I love so many of the same things. We’ll get along wonderfully. I’m planning to sell up and move in the spring. I’m sure my stepson won’t bother trying to find me again.”
“I’m glad you won’t be alone,” said my mom.
“We’ll miss you,” I added, and I meant it, too. Mrs. H also made the best chocolate chip cookies, ever.
Mrs. Haney looked at me and smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll make sure to tell whoever buys the house that they can count on you for mowed lawns and shoveled snow, and …,” she smiled, “rescuing old ladies.”
“From a collection of short stories. Reprinted with permission from Dude! Stories About Boys by Heather Wright and Jean Mills"