At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [102]
The other two stopped, startled, and Lindsay turned away from them. She drew a breath and pushed her hands through her hair. And in a moment she said, wearily, “I’m not going to take it to court, am I? I’m not going to torment this poor woman who only wants a chance to make things right, and I’m not going to humiliate a fifteen-year-old boy in a court of law and turn his last days with his mother into a nightmare, and I’m not going to file a complaint with Social Services in Richmond. I’m going to let him go.”
Bridget reached down and retrieved Lindsay’s phone. Cici slipped her arm around her waist. “Let’s go home,” she said.
20
Coming Home
Ida Mae was on a stepladder, using an extension pole brush to sweep cobwebs from the living room window casings, when they came in. “For heaven’s sake, Ida Mae, get down from there,” Bridget exclaimed, rushing toward her. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking it’s about time somebody swept up these cobwebs is what I’m thinking.” But she did accept the assistance of Bridget’s hand on her elbow as she climbed stiffly down from the stepladder. “Looks like nobody lives here but ghosts. Time to take that chandelier down and wash it, too. You can’t hardly see for the dust.”
“Why don’t you get one of the kids to help you with that?”
Ida Mae sniffed derisively. “Oh, they always got plenty better to do.”
“I hope they’re not fooling around out at the barn,” Cici said. “I told them to stay away from there.”
“Little Miss Fancy-Pants ain’t come out of her room all day, and the boy took off right after you did.”
“That was over three hours ago.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
Lindsay looked sharply at Ida Mae. “What do you mean, ‘took off’? Where did he go?”
“He ain’t in the habit of telling me what his plans are, now is he? There’s soup on the stove for lunch, if you want it.” She started folding up the stepladder.
Cici went to the bottom of the stairs. “Lori!” A muffled reply came from behind a closed door, and she called, “Will you come down here please?”
While they waited for Lori to appear, the three women shared a worried look. “He’s probably just roaming around the woods somewhere,” Bridget said. “You know how he likes to go off by himself.”
“I should check the folly,” Lindsay said.
“Maybe he’s in the studio,” suggested Cici.
“No he’s not,” Ida Mae said, passing them with the clattering ladder. “He took off down the driveway with his backpack.”
Lindsay’s hand went to her throat.
Lori came down the stairs two at a time. “What’s up?”
“Do you know where Noah is?”
She seemed surprised. “I haven’t seen him since early this morning, Mom. Why? What’s he done now?”
“Did he say anything to you?” Lindsay demanded urgently. “Anything that might give you an idea . . .”
Ida Mae paused on her way to the pantry with the ladder and looked back curiously. “You don’t think that young’un has run off, do you?”
Sudden comprehension dawned on Lori’s face. “Oh no,” she said softly. “That’s what he meant.” She looked at her mother, her expression anxious and apologetic. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I would have tried to stop him if I’d known, honestly I would . . . but this morning, when he came to talk to me, I think he was trying to tell me good-bye.”
There was nothing but the sound of someone’s sharply indrawn breath, and for a moment no one moved. Then Cici said briskly, “Okay, first, let’s search the property, just to be sure. Lori, check all the outbuildings, and Lindsay, you check the folly. He wasn’t on the highway. We just came that way. I’ll start calling the neighbors. After all, he couldn’t have gone far. He doesn’t have any money.”
Lori said in distress, “Mom . . . he does.”
They all stared at her.
“He’s been saving these antique bottles and stuff that he found on the property,” Lori explained. “The other day I gave him a ride into town and he sold them to that fellow at the junk shop. I don’t know how much he got for them, but it was at least fifty dollars.”
Lindsay looked at Cici. “You can get a bus ticket