words.
“Doesn’t she look nice?” Caddie said again. “It’ll be good to have a new person here, then you can feel like an old veteran.” Although, actually, one of the things Nana liked best about Wake House was that she was the new kid; she got a lot of attention that way. “Not that you won’t still be the—Nan? What’s wrong?” She looked funny. Guilty.
“Nothing.”
“Finney! Where is he? Did you let him off the leash? Oh, Nana. ” He was gone, his leash in a coil on the floor, and they’d stupidly left the door open. “He went downstairs, I bet—he probably smells those cats.”
“I’m coming, too,” Nana said. Caddie started to push her chair, but Nana said, “I can do it—you better go!”
She took the stairs, Nana took the elevator. From the last landing, Caddie could see Cornel, Bea and Edgie Copes, and one of the Harris wives loitering in the front hall. Even Mrs. Brill had pulled her chair in the Red Room closer to the archway for a better view.
“What a beautiful porch,” came a musical voice from outside, over the racket of manic barking. “So pretty. It’s just the way I remember it.”
A lot of things happened at once. Brenda bustled through the front door holding a suitcase in each hand, calling back, “Oh, yes, it’s lovely out here on warm evenings. Sometimes the whole house gathers—”
Cornel’s voice cut her off: “Look out, get that dog. Where’s Frances? Caddie, would you please —” Finney shot through the door, whirled around, and began to bark louder, high, excited, hysterical-sounding barks that could vibrate your eardrums and rattle your teeth.
“Finney!” Caddie shouted, starting down the half flight of steps. Fur stood up in a line down the middle of his back; you’d think he lived here and the UPS man was at the door. “Finney! Stop it!” Dorothea Barnes came in next, followed by the taxi driver, loaded down with more suitcases. “Oh, what a cute dog,” said Mrs. Barnes. She leaned down, put out her hand, and Finney bit her.
“Ow!”
Caddie clattered down the rest of the stairs, horrified. Everybody gathered around, Brenda, Cornel, the cabdriver, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Brill. “How bad is it? Are you bleeding? Did it break the skin? Does it hurt?”
Finney quit barking, began to wag his stubby tail frantically, trying to undo this.
Caddie pushed through the crush of worried people around Mrs. Barnes. “Oh, no, oh, I’m so sorry—he’s my grandmother’s dog but I brought him, it’s my fault—are you all right?”
“Fine.” She looked pale, though. Her hat was askew, mussing her silver-gray hair. She had dark, high-arching eyebrows, startled Vs above clear blue eyes. She was trying to smile, but it was a shaky effort. She held her right hand in her left—the middle finger was turning purple at the nail.
“Did it break the skin?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Just a bruise.”
Someone said “rabies.” Somebody said “rabies shots.”
“He’s had his shot,” Caddie rushed to say. “It lasts three years—he’s only two!”
“I’m fine. ” She reached out to Caddie’s shoulder and gave it a soft press with her good hand. “Really.”
“Sit down,” Brenda urged. She looked ill, probably imagining lawsuits. Dorothea Barnes let herself be led over by Brenda to the church pew under the coat hooks along the wall. Cornel offered to get her a glass of water. Mrs. Harris said she’d call the doctor.
“I am really quite all right.” She looked up at them all and gave a shivery laugh. “I was startled, mostly. That wasn’t quite the welcome I was expecting!”
Caddie started apologizing again, but she waved it off, insisting shewas fine. The crisis was over. Finney had gone into the Red Room to be alone. Caddie looked around for Nana.
She was huddled in her wheelchair by the elevator. She had her mouth covered with the fingertips of both hands and she was wide-eyed, pressing back into the vinyl seat. Caddie hurried over
“Doesn’t she look nice?” Caddie said again. “It’ll be good to have a new person here, then you can feel like an old veteran.” Although, actually, one of the things Nana liked best about Wake House was that she was the new kid; she got a lot of attention that way. “Not that you won’t still be the—Nan? What’s wrong?” She looked funny. Guilty.
“Nothing.”
“Finney! Where is he? Did you let him off the leash? Oh, Nana. ” He was gone, his leash in a coil on the floor, and they’d stupidly left the door open. “He went downstairs, I bet—he probably smells those cats.”
“I’m coming, too,” Nana said. Caddie started to push her chair, but Nana said, “I can do it—you better go!”
She took the stairs, Nana took the elevator. From the last landing, Caddie could see Cornel, Bea and Edgie Copes, and one of the Harris wives loitering in the front hall. Even Mrs. Brill had pulled her chair in the Red Room closer to the archway for a better view.
“What a beautiful porch,” came a musical voice from outside, over the racket of manic barking. “So pretty. It’s just the way I remember it.”
A lot of things happened at once. Brenda bustled through the front door holding a suitcase in each hand, calling back, “Oh, yes, it’s lovely out here on warm evenings. Sometimes the whole house gathers—”
Cornel’s voice cut her off: “Look out, get that dog. Where’s Frances? Caddie, would you please —” Finney shot through the door, whirled around, and began to bark louder, high, excited, hysterical-sounding barks that could vibrate your eardrums and rattle your teeth.
“Finney!” Caddie shouted, starting down the half flight of steps. Fur stood up in a line down the middle of his back; you’d think he lived here and the UPS man was at the door. “Finney! Stop it!” Dorothea Barnes came in next, followed by the taxi driver, loaded down with more suitcases. “Oh, what a cute dog,” said Mrs. Barnes. She leaned down, put out her hand, and Finney bit her.
“Ow!”
Caddie clattered down the rest of the stairs, horrified. Everybody gathered around, Brenda, Cornel, the cabdriver, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Brill. “How bad is it? Are you bleeding? Did it break the skin? Does it hurt?”
Finney quit barking, began to wag his stubby tail frantically, trying to undo this.
Caddie pushed through the crush of worried people around Mrs. Barnes. “Oh, no, oh, I’m so sorry—he’s my grandmother’s dog but I brought him, it’s my fault—are you all right?”
“Fine.” She looked pale, though. Her hat was askew, mussing her silver-gray hair. She had dark, high-arching eyebrows, startled Vs above clear blue eyes. She was trying to smile, but it was a shaky effort. She held her right hand in her left—the middle finger was turning purple at the nail.
“Did it break the skin?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Just a bruise.”
Someone said “rabies.” Somebody said “rabies shots.”
“He’s had his shot,” Caddie rushed to say. “It lasts three years—he’s only two!”
“I’m fine. ” She reached out to Caddie’s shoulder and gave it a soft press with her good hand. “Really.”
“Sit down,” Brenda urged. She looked ill, probably imagining lawsuits. Dorothea Barnes let herself be led over by Brenda to the church pew under the coat hooks along the wall. Cornel offered to get her a glass of water. Mrs. Harris said she’d call the doctor.
“I am really quite all right.” She looked up at them all and gave a shivery laugh. “I was startled, mostly. That wasn’t quite the welcome I was expecting!”
Caddie started apologizing again, but she waved it off, insisting shewas fine. The crisis was over. Finney had gone into the Red Room to be alone. Caddie looked around for Nana.
She was huddled in her wheelchair by the elevator. She had her mouth covered with the fingertips of both hands and she was wide-eyed, pressing back into the vinyl seat. Caddie hurried over
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