Read Online Meadowlark by Sheila Simonson - Free Book Online

climb up to the loft. He said it reminded him of home."
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. "Mike, take
those boxes to the conference room. I need to clear the table before
dinner."
    Mike said, "I'm going out to Dad."
    "Put the boxes away first," Bianca said. "Then you can help
me search the machine sheds."
    He hefted the cartons. "Okay, but I bet Mom's right. Hugo's
in the old barn." The door swung closed behind him.
    Bianca picked up the phone and dialed 911. They put her on
hold a couple of times. I watched her bridle her impatience.
Eventually she explained the situation to somebody, listened, glum,
to the response, and said, "Thanks." She set the device back in its
cradle. "They'll send a car this evening." She looked from Marianne
to me. "I'm going out. I have to do something."
    I nodded. I was feeling edgy myself. "I'll wait here."
    "Thanks." She headed out to the mudroom, and I could hear
her thumping around. Eventually the outer door slammed.
    I took another look out the window. It was getting dark fast,
and I saw no sign of Jason and Bill. I drifted back to the table.
    Marianne pulled a tray from a narrow cupboard near the
sink and joined me. She began clearing the mugs onto the tray.
    "Tell me about Hugo." I wadded a couple of napkins. "Where
do you want these?"
    "Hamper." She pointed and took her tray to the
dishwasher.
    I stuffed the napkins in the hamper. "Bianca says this isn't
Hugo's first disappearance."
    "Third." She ran a sponge under the hot water tap, squeezed
it, and began wiping crumbs from the surface of the table. "People
get to him. He can't stand being crowded."
    "Do you mean literally?"
    She stared at me and resumed wiping. "He don't like a lot of
voices yammering, that's for sure. Neither do I. But I think what
really pushes him is..." She broke off, shook her head, took the
sponge to the sink and rinsed it. "It's hard to put into words. Bianca
likes holidays. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Earth Day, the Fourth of
July. She gathers everybody. It's nice. The kids--I mean Mike and her
three and the interns, too--they like it a lot and the rest of us don't
mind. Keith pulls out his guitar. There's lots of food and music and
chatter."
    "And it gets to Hugo?"
    "Yes. He can't take it. It's like he can't breathe. Sometimes he
goes out on the deck and just leans on the rail and inhales. I've seen
him. The two times he disappeared were holidays."
    That made sense. A holiday phobia is common enough.
Sometimes enforced bonhomie bothers me, too. I relaxed a little. I
wanted to believe Hugo had gone away of his own free will. "Do you
think the upcoming workshop triggered him off?"
    Marianne sighed. "I guess so, but I'm surprised."
    "Surprised?"
    "The feeling's different this time. Sure, there's that reception
the first night, but Bianca told Hugo he didn't have to come to it.
Apart from that there isn't any reason for him to tense up. He isn't
living here now. Besides..." She opened the oven.
    "Besides what?" I asked, distracted by the savory
aroma.
    "If he was going to bolt, he'd leave just before the conference
starts. Friday or Saturday." She put on a padded glove and pulled a
vast casserole from the oven.
    "What's that? It smells great."
    "Shepherd's pie."
    I watched as she glazed the surface with a smidgen of butter.
The crust looked like mashed potatoes. She popped the ceramic dish
back in the oven. I tried to imagine being organized enough to
produce high tea for ten followed by a complete dinner for six a
couple of hours later.
    She glided to the refrigerator and began pulling vegetables
out. Marianne never seemed hurried and, if she was harried, it was
not because of her culinary responsibilities. She took a plastic salad
spinner from a cupboard and began rinsing greens.
    "May I help you?" I asked again.
    "No, thanks. There's coffee if you want it."
    I poured a mug of coffee.
    "Cream's in the fridge."
    "Thanks." I laced my cup with cholesterol. "You said Hugo
was fragile."
    "Did