All That's Missing (18 page)

Arlo swallowed a huge knot in his throat. “I'm sorry I had to leave,” he said.

“Leave?” Poppo said. “Where are you?”

Arlo gulped. Surely Poppo understood where he was. “With Ida,” he said. “You know. In Edgewater.”

“Ida?” Poppo said. “Who's that?”

A quiver ran down Arlo's spine. He struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “My grandmother in Virginia. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I knew that. Didn't I?”

“Sure you did,” Arlo said. He glanced over at Ida. She was staring at him.

“OK, buddy,” Poppo said. All of a sudden, he sounded like he was in a hurry. “You take care. All right?”

“Sure, Poppo.” Arlo felt his shoulders drop as the image of a back-to-normal Poppo dissolved in his mind. “You take care, too,” he said.

Arlo handed the receiver back to Ida. There was no escaping her eagle-eye gaze.

“I told Augusta I'd meet her at Frog Creek this afternoon,” she said. “I happen to know that Maywood's out of school early because of teachers' meetings. Perhaps you'd like to come with me.”

Might as well, Arlo figured. What else was he going to do?

The tables were all filled when Arlo followed Ida into the café that afternoon. Augusta Stonestreet was seated at the table in the window.

“Augusta's early, as usual,” Ida remarked as they stood in line to give Matthew their orders.

Arlo studied the menu board. Would he rather have a turkey-and-cheese pita pocket or macaroni and cheese? They were next in line when a voice trickled down from the tree house above them.

“Want to come up?” Maywood gave Arlo a mysterious smile.

“Go ahead,” Ida said. “You can give Matthew your order and eat up there.”

Matthew nodded his agreement. “What'll it be, Skywalker?”

Arlo frowned.
“Skywalker?”
he asked.

“Maybe he hasn't seen
Star Wars,
” Maywood said.

Arlo felt the color rise in his face.
Luke Skywalker. Of course.
“I'll have a turkey-and-cheese pita pocket,” he said, trying to appear unruffled in front of Maywood.

Matthew nodded. “I'll give you a yell when it's ready,” he said.

It was a quick trip up the ladder. Maywood was seated in one of six beanbag chairs. Arlo explored the small clubhouse before joining her. It was lined with low bookcases that were filled with used books.

“Nice place,” Arlo said.

“Thanks,” she said. “I designed it. I drew pictures, and then Matthew and my dad built it.”

“Pretty impressive,” Arlo said.

Maywood lifted her chin. “I'm going to be an architect someday,” she said. “Like Julia Morgan.”

“Julia who?” Arlo asked.

Maywood sighed. She got up from her beanbag and went inside the clubhouse long enough to retrieve a large art book.

“Here she is,” Maywood said, opening to a spread with a photograph of a small woman wearing wire-rimmed glasses on one page and a photo of an ornate building on the opposite page. “She was the first woman to earn a degree in architecture from a famous school in Paris,” Maywood said. “And she designed Hearst Castle.”

“Hearst what?” Arlo asked.

Maywood lifted her eyes to the ceiling in disbelief. “
San Simeon,”
she said. “Surely you've heard of that?”

Arlo stared at her blankly.

“It's this estate in California built by a guy who owned a bunch of newspapers back in the nineteen hundreds.” She got up again and walked to the clubhouse, emerging a moment later with another large book. “Look, I'll show you.” Maywood flipped through the book until she found a photo of a huge white building.

“Nice,” Arlo said.

“Nice?” Maywood scowled. “Are you kidding? It's amazing. Look. This is my favorite.” She paged through until she came to a series of rustic-style buildings surrounded by tall trees.

“Where's that?” Arlo asked.

“Asilomar,” Maywood said. “It used to be a YWCA camp. Look at the dining hall. Wouldn't you like to eat there?”

“Not bad,” Arlo said

“It's
beautiful,
” Maywood said. “Someday I'm going to design buildings just like these.”

Arlo looked around the tree house again. “This is beautiful, too,” he said. He could tell from the way Maywood looked at him that he had said the right thing, though that wasn't the reason he'd said it. It wasn't to please Maywood. It was because the tree house really
was
beautiful. Arlo wouldn't mind spending a lot of time here.

Imagining spending time in the tree house made him think of Sam and the apartment over Aunt Betty's garage. That was where they used to go when they needed to stay out of Aunt Betty's way. The two rooms over her garage were filled to the brim with a hodgepodge of used furniture, boxes of broken appliances, and storage bins filled with old kitchen utensils and faded curtains. Arlo liked the privacy and the feeling that it was their own kingdom. No one bothered them up there. They could talk about anything they liked.

Maywood closed the book and laid it carefully against the railing.

“So, your apartment's up there?” Arlo asked, pointing toward the doors on the second floor.

“That's right,” Maywood said. “It's the one with the blue door.” She pointed to the other side of the atrium. “The one with the yellow door belongs to my grandmother.”

Arlo gave her a puzzled look. “But I was in your grandmother's house,” he said.

“That's my
other
grandmother,” Maywood said. “Gramma Stonestreet. I'm talking about Mama Reel.”

“Mama who?”

“It's short for Aurelia. She's my mom's mom. She's taking care of me while my parents are in Washington for my mom's meeting. Mom's an art professor in Richmond.”

Arlo nodded. He wondered what it would be like to have an art professor for a mother. Not that he had anything to compare it to. Having a mother was more than he could imagine. He leaned back and watched the clouds drift past the glass in the skylights. “Must be interesting to watch storms from here,” he said.

Maywood leaned back too. “Sometimes we bring sleeping bags down at night,” she said. “You can see the stars.”

Arlo tried to imagine what it would feel like to sleep in a pretend tree house inside a bookstore in the dark. He was imagining a warm summer night and a sky filled with stars when Maywood's voice broke through his dream.

“Is it true you ran away from home?” she asked.

Arlo sat up with a start. “Who told you that?”

Maywood gave him a guilty smile. “Gramma Stonestreet. She says you came on a bus to Richmond and someone gave you a ride from there.”

Arlo rolled his eyes. He leaned back and stared at the clouds again. One of them reminded him of Ebenezer Crookshank. Arlo could see his funny hat. “That's true,” he said. “Only, I didn't run away.”

“I don't understand.”

Arlo sighed. Might as well get this over with. She was going to find out eventually, and it was better that she know the truth rather than some garbled version she heard from Augusta Stonestreet.

“Poppo had a stroke,” Arlo said in as matter-of-fact a tone as he could muster. “I ran away because he was in the hospital and a social worker wanted to put me in a shelter.”

Silence.

The beanbag made a loud scrunching sound as Maywood rolled around on it. “That's terrible,” she said at last. “I didn't know.”

Arlo nodded. “That's why I had to run away.” He kept his eyes on the Ebenezer Crookshank cloud. Gradually, wind currents dispersed the vapors, making it look as though Mr. Crookshank were tipping his hat.
Good day to you, too,
Arlo thought.

When Maywood spoke again, her voice was small. “Your grandfather's going to be all right, isn't he?”

Arlo pressed his lips together tightly, trying to control the fear that came when he repeated the doctor's words. “They say there's room for hope.”

Maywood didn't say anything.

The silence was uncomfortable between them until Matthew's voice boomed up from below. “Gobbler and cheese in a pocket,” he yelled.

Arlo climbed down the ladder and collected his sandwich and a bottle of water. Then he climbed back up.

“What are you going to do?” Maywood asked.

Arlo put down his sandwich. Then he smiled. “First, I'm going to eat my lunch,” he said. She smiled back at him with relief.

“You should move in with Ida,” she said.

Arlo laughed. “Yeah. She'd love that, wouldn't she?”

“No, really.” Maywood sighed. “Ida's not as cranky as she seems.” She scooted closer to Arlo. “And maybe you can stop her.”

Arlo swallowed a bite of sandwich. “Stop her from what?” he asked.

“Selling her house and moving to Richmond, that's what,” Maywood said.

Arlo looked up. “What are you talking about?”

Maywood's tone was firm, letting him know she was sure of the truth of what she was saying.

“I'm not supposed to know this, but Ida's selling her house and moving into a condo.”

“Who told you that?”

Maywood rolled her eyes. “Gramma Stonestreet knows everything Ida does. I heard her tell my dad.”

Arlo thought about how all the glasses in Ida's kitchen were arranged according to size and about the way the towels in the bathroom were sorted by color. If a person was moving, they'd be emptying out drawers and giving things away, wouldn't they? Ida's house was way too neat for that to be going on.

On the other hand, Arlo thought, if a person was selling her house, she'd need to keep it neat and clean to make people want to buy it. Ida's house sparkled. It was like something out of a television commercial.

A chair leg scraped the floor beneath them, and Ida's voice drifted up.

“You haven't lost them again, have you, Augusta?”

“I distinctly remember putting them in my purse this morning before I left the house,” Mrs. Stonestreet responded.

Maywood stood up. “Here we go again,” she said.

Arlo frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Gramma Stonestreet. She's left her key in the house and locked herself out. She does it all the time. I'm going to have to walk her home and help her break in.”

“You're kidding?” Arlo said.

Maywood raised an eyebrow. “Watch what happens,” she said.

Sure enough, a second later, Augusta Stonestreet stood at the bottom of the ladder and yelled up through the platform.

“May-wood!”

“Yes, Gramma?”

“I've left my key at home, dear. Do you think you could . . . ?”

“Sure, Gramma. I'll be right down.” Maywood gave Arlo a
see-what-I-mean?
look. Then she started down the ladder. “See you tomorrow,” she said, struggling to hold down a grin.

Arlo leaned over the edge. “Wait a minute,” he said. She paused and looked up at him. “You pick locks?” he asked.

She laughed. “I found a book that explained how to do it,” she said. “Gramma Stonestreet says I have a real flair. Of course, I've had a lot of practice.”

Arlo watched, openmouthed, as Maywood descended. She was the most interesting girl he had ever met.

“See you tomorrow?” he called down from the tree house.

She looked up at him and waved. “Sure,” she said. “Meet you back here after school.”

As he watched her leave, Arlo caught Ida staring at him. She had an odd expression on her face and somehow Arlo understood that she was pleased with him, though he wasn't sure why.

That evening at dinner, Arlo sat beside Ida at the counter in the kitchen.

“I never thought I'd be entertaining company here,” Ida said. “Slocum would never have approved.”

“Why not?” Arlo asked.

“Slocum liked linen napkins and good china for one thing,” she said. “He believed in
formality.
”