All That's Missing (27 page)

“So, that's it,” she said. “It's the meeting you're worried about.”

Arlo shrugged.

“It's just a formality. We need to go over a few things. Not like when you met with her before. Not like . . .” She stopped again. She started blinking.

Arlo saw the wheels turning in her head.

“You
did
understand this is only to confirm that you're staying with me . . . didn't you? You didn't think . . . Surely you couldn't believe that I would . . .”

Now Arlo was blinking. Salt burned his eyes.

“Oh, Arlo.” Her cheeks went from pink to pale white. She moved forward and put her arms around him. “The meeting with Miss Hasslebarger is only a formality. Nathan's arranged everything. You're coming home with me.”

Arlo felt his shoulders giving. His pulse throbbed behind his ears.

“It's all right,” she said. “I promise. You're coming home with me.”

The way Sam looked, you would have thought he was the one being rescued instead of Arlo. Arlo hated crying in front of his friend, but some things couldn't be helped.

“I should have told you sooner,” Ida said, “but I needed to be sure everything would work out. I couldn't stand to disappoint you. Not after what you've been through already. It wouldn't be fair.”

“It's OK,” Arlo said. He hiccupped and brushed the dampness from his cheeks at the same time.

“We may need to make another trip, but you'll want to come see Albert anyway, won't you?”

“Yes.”

She hugged him again. “And Sam will have to come visit us.”

“I'd like that,” Sam said. He looked from Ida to Arlo and back at Ida again. “So everything's OK?” he asked.

Arlo shot him a thumbs-up. “Everything's good,” he said.

“Did you mean what you said about coming to dinner?” Sam asked.

“I certainly did,” Ida said. “You don't mind sharing a meal with two old ladies, do you?”

“No, ma'am,” Sam said.

He rode up with them on the elevator and waited with Augusta in the lounge while Arlo followed his grandmother to Miss Hasslebarger's office.

The meeting lasted twelve minutes.

“Didn't I tell you things would work out?” Miss Hasslebarger said to Arlo as he and Ida were leaving. “You know, you had us worried sick, disappearing the way you did. But now that we know you're safe, I'll admit, it was pretty resourceful what you did. Don't tell anybody I said that. I'm glad you found your grandmother, Arlo. That's what we were all hoping for, isn't it?”

Arlo kept smiling. He didn't open his mouth. When in doubt, don't stir the soup. That was another one of Poppo's sayings.

“What do you say, Arlo? I think it's time we had some dinner, and then you can take me to see your house.” Ida moved toward the door.

Arlo was only too happy to follow. He didn't even care how bad the house looked. Not anymore.

They found Augusta and Sam waiting in the lounge. Augusta had bought Sam a book of crossword puzzles in the gift shop and they were working on them together.

“What's another word for rodent?” Augusta asked.

“Rat,” Sam said. He shot a look at Arlo.

Arlo stifled a laugh.

“Ready to go?” Ida asked.

“Anytime,” Arlo said.

They ate dinner at Capellini's. Arlo had spaghetti with mushroom sauce, and Sam ordered lasagna. The garlic toast was Arlo's favorite part of the meal.

Afterward, they went back to visit Poppo.

“Told you I'd see you again soon,” Poppo said.

Arlo hugged his grandfather. “You were right, Poppo.”

It was hard saying good-bye when they dropped off Sam at his house, but Ida reminded him they would see each other again in a few weeks.

“We'll be back at Thanksgiving,” she said. “And Sam's going to visit us too.”

When Ida pulled into the driveway, the old house looked smaller than Arlo remembered. The kitchen was just a plain white room with chipped linoleum and fading wallpaper. Nothing more.

Ida and Augusta moved from room to room, keeping poker faces and exchanging whispers.

“Perhaps you'd like to get some things out of your room?” Ida suggested when they reached the top of the stairs.

Arlo was glad Sam wasn't with him. He preferred going through his things on his own. It didn't take long. Arlo knew what he wanted:

Arlo put all those things in the tote bag Augusta had loaned him. Then he added the two Harry Potter books Poppo had given him when Arlo was in fourth grade. Standing in the doorway and surveying the small pile in the bag, Arlo had a sinking feeling that he was letting the house down. First Poppo had left it. And now he was leaving it, too.

He took one last look, letting his eyes sweep the walls, getting it all down in his mind so he could call it up when he needed to remember. There was the poster from the Carnegie Museum and the map of the planets that Arlo used to stare at before he went to sleep. Part of him hated leaving, but another part was more than ready to say good-bye. In a way, the house had already let go of them. It was ready for a fresh start, just the way Arlo was. And the way Poppo was, too.

“Are you ready?” Ida asked.

Arlo nodded.

Augusta was checking windows on the first floor, making sure they were tightly closed so the rain couldn't come in. Arlo heard her whisper to Ida as he carried his bag to the car.

“What will happen to this place?” she asked.

“Not now, Augusta. There are procedures to follow. One step at a time, don't you think?”

“I suppose you're right, dear.”

On his way back inside, Arlo detoured into the living room. He slid the family album out of the cabinet and opened to the page with the picture of his parents standing in the orchard in Edgewater. He felt Ida standing behind him.

“I'd forgotten Albert had a copy of that picture,” she said.

“It was taken at your house, wasn't it?” Arlo asked.

“In the orchard, I believe. Yes. Do you think Albert would mind if you brought it with you?”

As far as Arlo knew, Poppo never looked at the album. Seeing pictures of Arlo's mother made him too sad.

“I don't think he'd mind.” Arlo slipped the photo out of the paper corners that held it to the page.

“Probably shouldn't leave that album in an empty house,” Augusta said. She exchanged glances with Ida.

“You're right,” Ida said. “I suppose Albert will be collecting more of his things later on. But in the meantime, it would be a shame to let something happen to those photographs.”

Arlo closed the album when he sensed Augusta creeping up beside Ida.

“Maybe we could take a few pictures for ourselves and leave the rest for Poppo?” he said.

Ida placed her hand on Arlo's shoulder. “Good idea,” she said. “We'll take them to Albert in the morning.”

They stayed in adjoining rooms in the motel. Augusta and Ida shared one room. Arlo had the other. For the first time in as many days as Arlo could remember, he was happy to turn out the light and let his head sink into the pillow.

He slept soundly until Ida's knock on the door between their rooms awakened him in the morning.

Poppo and Eldon were watching TV in Poppo's room.

“We brought you this,” Arlo said, handing Poppo the album.

Poppo seemed reluctant to take it at first. “It's been a long time since I looked at this,” he said, setting the album carefully in his lap.

“I was wondering,” Arlo said, running his hand up and down the back of Poppo's chair as Poppo opened to the first page. “Do you think it would be OK if I took a few of the pictures with me? I mean, I don't have to, but . . .”

Poppo reached over and held Arlo's hand. “You're the person I've been saving them for,” he said.

He paged through the pictures, lingering over photos of Arlo's mother. A small muscle twitched in Poppo's cheek as he turned each page. Arlo scooted his chair closer so they could look at the pictures together. Poppo paused at the blank spaces where photos had been removed.

“I can put them back if you want,” Arlo said.

Poppo shook his head. He tapped the space where the photo of Arlo's parents standing under the apple tree had been. “You've made good choices,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Ida asked.

Poppo looked across the room at her. “Positive,” he said.

Meanwhile, Augusta was tapping her foot as she stared at the clock. “It's a six-hour drive,” she reminded them. “We should be going.”

“I'm afraid Augusta's right,” Ida said to Poppo.

With a sad nod, Poppo closed the album. He handed it to Eldon, who placed it on the table beside the bed. “You don't want to be out on the highway late at night,” Poppo said.

“Give us a call when you get home,” Eldon said, standing as they moved toward the door.

Arlo looked back at Poppo. He put down his bag and ran to Poppo's chair.

Poppo returned Arlo's hug. “Don't worry,” he said. “You'll be back. And I'm going to be right here.”

Arlo's eyes brimmed.

“To tell you the truth,” Poppo whispered, “I think I'll get along a lot better with Eldon than I would with those two ladies.” He winked at Arlo.

Arlo was quiet in the backseat for the first twenty miles. Augusta drove, and Ida kept her company in the front seat. They went down the mountain at Sandstone and then crossed the state line just beyond White Sulphur Springs. Somewhere around Staunton, Arlo fell asleep. He slept the rest of the way, dreaming of Mr. Fanucci taking packs of doughnuts out of Poppo's hands. It was a relief to wake up in Ida's driveway.

All these months Arlo had worried day and night about how to keep Poppo from setting the house on fire or getting lost or being arrested for shoplifting food in Fanucci's Market. And now it was over. Arlo had his life back. He hated to admit this, but the truth was, he felt a huge sense of relief. As long as Poppo was happy where he was, then Arlo could feel all right about staying in Edgewater with Ida and Steamboat.

The next two days were nearly perfect. Arlo made a list of the people (plus one dog) he was grateful for:

Arlo no longer had to worry about being a runaway. He was where he belonged.
Only a few formalities left to take care of,
Mr. Tretheway had told Ida.

Just when everything seemed perfect, at that moment when Arlo stopped worrying, Mr. Tretheway appeared at Ida's door with news that made the walls of Arlo's dam begin to quiver all over again.

“But I don't understand,” Ida kept saying. “You told me there'd be no problem canceling the contract.”

“And that's what I thought, too,” Mr. Tretheway said, “until I received this letter from the developer's attorney.”

Mr. Tretheway extracted a long envelope from his briefcase and set it on the counter. The word
CERTIFIED
was stamped above the address in bold black letters.

“What does it say?” Ida asked. “And please skip all the legal gobbledygook and just tell me the part that matters.”

Mr. Tretheway adjusted his glasses. “The long and short of it is, someone's tipped off the developer that a man from Richmond is interested in your house. In their eyes, you have a potential willing buyer. You agreed to make a good-faith effort to sell. If you don't at least show the house to that person, the developer can say you're not holding up your end of the bargain.”