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"So, you like beef?" she repeated. He nodded. "Good," she said, her expression still serious. "I always fixed beef for your father. But he only wanted pie." "What kind of pie?" Evan asked, and then blushed when he remembered Kathryn couldn't hear him. "So he's a good boy? Not a troublemaker?" Kathryn asked Evan's mother. Mrs. Ross nodded, looking at Evan. "Where shall we put his suitcase?" she asked. "I can tell by looking he's a good boy," Kathryn said. She reached out and grabbed Evan's face, her big hand holding him under the chin, her eyes examining him closely. "Good-looking boy," she said, giving his chin a hard squeeze. "He likes the girls?" Still holding his chin, she lowered her face to his. "You've got a girlfriend?" she asked, her pale face right above his, so close he could smell her breath, which was sour. Evan took a step back, an embarrassed grin crossing his face. "No. Not really." "Yes?" Kathryn cried, bellowing in his ear. "Yes? I knew it!" She laughed heartily, turning her gaze to Evan's mother. "The suitcase?" Mrs. Ross asked, picking up the bag. "He likes the girls, huh?" Kathryn repeated, still chuckling. "I could tell. Just like his father. His father always liked the girls." Evan turned desperately to his mother. "Mom, I can't stay here," he said, whispering even though he knew Kathryn couldn't hear. "Please don't make me." "Hush," his mother replied, also whispering. "She'll leave you alone. I promise. She's just trying to be friendly." "He likes the girls," Kathryn repeated, leering at him with her cold blue eyes, again lowering her face close to Evan's. "Mom--her breath smells like Trigger's!" Evan exclaimed miserably. "Evan!" Mrs. Ross shouted angrily. "Stop it! I expect you to cooperate." "I'm going to bake you a pie," Kathryn said, tugging at her black ponytail with one of her huge hands. "Would you like to roll out the dough? I'll bet you would. What did your father tell you about me, Evan?" She winked at Mrs. Ross. "Did he tell you I was a scary old witch?" "No," Evan protested, looking at his mother. "Well, I am!" Kathryn declared, and once again burst into her deep-throated laugh. Trigger took this moment to begin barking ferociously and jumping on Evan's great-aunt. She glared down at the dog, her eyes narrowing, her expression becoming stern. "Look out or we'll put you in the pie, doggie!" she exclaimed.Trigger barked even harder, darting boldly toward the tall, hovering woman, then quickly retreating, his stub of a tail whipping back and forth in a frenzy. "We'll put him in the pie, won't we, Evan?" Kathryn repeated, putting a big hand on Evan's shoulder and squeezing it till Evan flinched in pain. "Mom --" he pleaded when his aunt finally let go and, smiling, made her way to the kitchen. "Mom -- please." "It's just her sense of humor, Evan," Mrs. Ross said uncertainly. "She means well. Really. She's going to bake you a pie." "But I don't want pie!" Evan wailed. "I don't like it here, Mom! She hurt me. She squeezed my shoulder so hard --" "Evan, I'm sure she didn't mean to. She's just trying to joke with you. She wants you to like her. Give her a chance -- okay?" Evan started to protest, but thought better of it. "I'm counting on you," his mother continued, turning her eyes to the kitchen. They could both see Kathryn at the counter, her broad back to them, hacking away at something with the big kitchen knife. "But she's...weird!" Evan protested. "Listen, Evan, I understand how you're feeling,'' his mother said. "But you won't have to spend all your time with her. There are a lot of kids in this neighborhood. Take Trigger for a walk. I'll bet you'll make some friends your age

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