All That's Missing (28 page)

“But how would they know I'm not showing my house?” Ida's eyes blazed.

“People find out things when they want a deal to work,” Mr. Tretheway said. “Real estate's a tough business, Ida. People play dirty sometimes.”

Ida sank into a chair. “I'll bet it was that Mr. Garringer,” she said.

“It's possible.” Mr. Tretheway took off his glasses. “The man threw a fit when you refused to show him the house.”

“What's the worst that could happen, Nathan?”

Mr. Tretheway pushed his thumbs against each other like poles holding up a tent. “You forfeit your deposit,” he said.

Ida gasped. “That's ten thousand dollars,” she said.

“Yes, I know.”

“Blast!” Ida slammed her fist on the table.

Arlo drew in his breath. He'd never heard his grandmother use a swear word — not that
blast
was exactly a bad word, but still . . .

“Just show Garringer the house,” Mr. Tretheway said. “Maybe he won't want to pay the price you're asking.”

Ida frowned. “Maybe we could make the house look less appealing,” she said.

Mr. Tretheway seemed not to be listening. “You know, it's odd the way the man is so interested in a house he's never seen. I can't help wondering about that. The roof's not even visible from the highway.”

“I've thought about that, too,” Ida said. “He's never asked to see photographs, either. It's almost as if it's not the house he's really interested in.”

“Strange,” Mr. Tretheway said.

“If only I'd set the price Augusta suggested. That would have scared him off.”

“Your intent was to sell back then,” Mr. Tretheway said. “You didn't want to scare buyers off with a hefty price tag.”

“If only I'd known.” Ida glanced at Arlo and quickly looked away.

Later that afternoon, Arlo sat with Maywood in the tree house.

“Gramma Stonestreet says that Garringer guy is going to look at your grandmother's house this week,” Maywood said.

“Mr. Tretheway told her she had to show it to him,” Arlo said.

Maywood looked thoughtful as she sipped her lemonade. “We need to make sure he doesn't like it, then,” she said.

Arlo gave her a look. “How are we supposed to do that?”

He couldn't imagine anyone
not wanting
to live in Ida's house. Who wouldn't want to wake up in the morning and look out at the river? Who wouldn't want to hear the creaks and moans the walls made at night, as if they were lulling you to sleep? It was so much nicer than the street noises back in Marshboro, where sirens whined on Friday and Saturday nights and trucks ground their gears on the hill, making the walls shake from the vibrations.

“Rats,” Maywood said.

“Excuse me?” Arlo stared across the wooden platform toward the spot where Maywood was propped against one of the beanbags. Sometimes she came up with the most outrageous comments. But, seriously,
rats
?

“If I saw a rat in a house, I wouldn't live there for anything,” Maywood said.

Arlo thought about Sam. “But if we put a rat in Ida's house, how would we get it out again?”

“I don't know.” Maywood shrugged. “We'll put bait outside or something.”

“Too dangerous,” Arlo said. “Rats bite.”

Maywood sighed. “So think of something else,” she said.

Arlo thought.

“Too much noise?” he asked.

Maywood waved her hand dismissively. “The only noise at Ida's house is when somebody mows the grass.”

“How about water in the basement?” Arlo said. “Our neighbors couldn't sell their house because it got flooded after a bad storm.”

“Good idea, except Ida's basement is dry,” Maywood said. “I saw it when I helped her stack cans of crab-apple jelly on the shelves down there.”

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she sat up. “I have it,” she said.

“What?” Arlo asked.

“Squirrels in the attic,” Maywood said.

Arlo waved his arm at her. “She already has those,” he said. “It's no big deal. The noise scared me at first, but . . .” He stopped speaking midsentence.

“What's wrong?” Maywood asked. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Arlo smiled. “Exactly,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Maywood frowned.

“We'll make Garringer think Ida's house is haunted.”

Maywood blinked. “Haunted?” she said. “But how?”

“I don't know,” Arlo said. “One of us can hide in the attic and drag chains across the floor or something.”

Maywood stared at the table. Slowly, she began to smile. “It might work,” she said.

“Of course it'll work,” Arlo said. “Remember how we felt at the old Stoneham house?”

Maywood shuddered. “That's different,” she said. “That place really is haunted.”

Arlo looked at her. “All it takes is making someone
believe
the ghost is there,” he said.

Maywood smiled back at him. “OK,” she said. “So how do we do that?”

Arlo stood and went to get a piece of paper from the shelf in the clubhouse. Then he came back out and sat down. He started drawing out his idea.

“When Garringer comes to look at the house,” he said, “one of us will be in the attic.”

“One of us?” Maywood asked.

“Probably you,” Arlo said.

“Why not you?”

“Because I'll be the one with Ida, giving Mr. Garringer the tour. We can't let Ida suspect what we're doing. When Ida and I bring Garringer upstairs, I'll give you a signal so you'll know when to make a noise.”

“What kind of signal?” Maywood asked.

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

She pushed her plate away. “How am I supposed to get up there without someone spotting me?”

“That's easy. I'll sneak you up the back stairs. Ida keeps that door closed all the time. She never uses those stairs. You can go up there ahead of time and hide before Garringer arrives.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to sneak into the basement?”

“When people hear noises in basements, they think it's rats,” Arlo said. “Attic noises are spookier, especially big attics in old houses. Once we have Mr. Garringer upstairs, you can thump on the floor.”

“Thump?” Maywood asked.

“OK. Maybe you could drop something or drag a chain around.”

“That sounds better,” Maywood said.

They were so intent on their conversation that they failed to notice Matthew standing at the bottom of the ladder, staring up at them.

“What are you two plotting?” he asked.

Maywood peeked over the edge. She pulled up quickly and gave Arlo a zipper-across-the-lips motion.

“Nothing,” she said.

“We're reading ghost stories,” Arlo said, trying to keep his voice calm while he replayed their conversation in his head. What
exactly
had Matthew heard?

“The sergeant there has a devious look on her face.”

“Sergeant?” Arlo asked.

“That's what he calls me sometimes,” Maywood explained.

“Only when she's up to no good.” Matthew said.

“We're working on a plan to help Ida,” Arlo said.

“I'm all for that,” Matthew said. “How can I help?”

“We can't tell you anything yet,” Maywood said. “It's a secret.”

“See what I mean?” Matthew said, shaking a finger at Maywood. “Devious.”

Maywood smiled. “Maybe sometimes,” she said. “But only when it's absolutely necessary.”

Arlo and Maywood spent the next hour reading ghost stories for ideas. Arlo's favorite was the one about the ghost of a Union soldier who had hidden from the Confederates in an attic on a plantation near Edgewater. A hundred years later, the people who bought the plantation found the man's skeleton in their attic. For years afterward, the man's ghost would come to the attic and stand at the window between one and three in the morning.

“You don't really believe in this stuff, do you?” Arlo asked.

Maywood rolled over on her back and stared at the skylight. “People see things they can't explain all the time,” she said, “like that crow in the cemetery.”

Arlo felt a prickle at the base of his scalp.
Spirits doing their work.
“That was just a bird,” he said, though, in truth, that wasn't what he believed.

Arlo called Poppo that evening. Poppo told him he was starting to like his new home.

“They take care of everything for me,” he said. “And Eldon comes over to watch TV after dinner every day.”

“That's nice,” Arlo said.

“Sure is,” Poppo said. “How about you? What's new in Edgewater?”

“Did I tell you about the river?” Arlo asked.

“The river? Oh, yeah. I remember it,” Poppo said. “It's huge.”

Poppo
remembered
the river?

“Like the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo, isn't it?” Poppo laughed. “Are you and Ida getting along all right?”

“We're fine,” Arlo said.
Poppo remembered Ida's name, too. He must be having a really good day.

“How about that other lady? Augusta. How is she?”

“Fine,” Arlo said.

“Tell her I said hi. OK?”

“I will.”

Arlo heard a voice in the background at Poppo's end of the line.

“Who's that?” Arlo asked.

“Angela,” Poppo said. “She's the night nurse. She says Eldon's waiting for me. I guess I'd better go, all right?”

“OK,” Arlo said.

“You'll call me again tomorrow, won't you?”

“Sure will,” Arlo said.

“Good deal. I'll talk to you then,” Poppo said.

“OK.”

“Love you,” Poppo said.

“I love you, too,” Arlo said. Then he hung up the phone. He harbored an unsettling feeling that Poppo was getting along just fine without him.

Shouldn't he be grateful Poppo had a friend?

Of course he should.

Did he feel grateful? Did he feel good?

He did not.

But that was terrible. Arlo knew that. Still, he couldn't help a tiny stab of jealousy. It was hard to let go of the person who'd taken care of him all his life. A tiny part of him longed to go back to the way things used to be . . . over a year ago now. But that wasn't going to happen. It was time to move forward. Arlo wasn't used to doing that, but he was beginning to come around. Moving forward no longer seemed as terrifying as it had the day he escaped on the bus.

Ida was trying to make Edgewater feel like home. Arlo could see that. She'd made space in his father's chest of drawers for his clothes. She'd taken him to the store to select his favorite foods. She'd even started watching his favorite TV programs with him. He appreciated what she was doing. But the day she announced she was taking him to register for school, Arlo thought it was time to slow down. The prospect of being a new kid made his stomach churn. Didn't he have enough to worry about? Contending with creeps like Hafer and Boyle on a daily basis was piling it on.

But Ida insisted. “The sooner you get settled in school, the sooner Edgewater will feel like home,” she said.

“It feels like home already,” Arlo said.

Ida shook her head sadly. “I know it will be tough at first, but Maywood will help.”

Face it. There was only so much a girl could do. Part of letting bullies know how far they could push you was strictly a guy-to-guy thing. Ida couldn't possibly understand.

Despite his protests, Arlo found himself sitting in a classroom with a bunch of strangers a day later. He reassured himself with the knowledge that it could have been worse. The teacher could have stuck him in a seat at the front of the room, the way Mrs. Gretzky did when a new kid joined their class. The teacher at Edgewater Middle School was nice. Her name was Mrs. Previll and she had the good sense to place Arlo in a nondescript seat in the middle of the room. He did his best to melt into the background. It was only at recess and in the halls that he had to worry about Hafer and Boyle. Luckily, neither one of them was in his class.

During one of their study periods in the library, Arlo ran across a faded copy of
The Elephant's Child.
He checked it out and read it that night in his room. Repeating the lines about the “great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River,” Arlo heard Poppo's voice in his head. He forgot about being the new kid for a few minutes.

Other people in Edgewater tried to make Arlo feel at home, too. Matthew was great about that. He took Arlo along on deliveries whenever he could. He told Arlo stories about his dad and about the things he and Wake had done when they were kids. And then there was Maywood, who turned out to be a true friend. She asked Arlo to help her get ready for a Halloween party at the bookstore.

“This is the second year we've done it,” she said. “We're having it on the Friday before Halloween. My mom's going to read ghost stories. And Matthew's making caramel apples.”