Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff Page B

as the table's ready.”
    She smiled. “Hope you don't have a dog.”
    “A cat,” he said, holding the phone again.
    “My mother gave me the table years ago. It was in her living room.”
    He motioned with the phone. “I have to get this. Sometimes people won't wait.”
    “No patience,” she said, and went out the door.
    He put the phone to his ear. “Caroline?”
    “Tomorrow's Saturday, and we can have the whole day together. My mother said she doesn't need me, that I can come over to the workshop.”
    He looked toward the castle. All day tomorrow.
    “We can't do that, though.” She was whispering, her voice rushed.
    He shook his head. “Wait a minute.”
    “I've looked up the bus schedule. I have babysitting money.”
    “Whoa.”
    “I've found the Children's Home, Eleventh Street. I'll meet you at the bus stop in town. Nine o'clock.”
    The phone clicked and she was gone. He ran his fingers over the woman's table, his mouth dry.
    Was he really going back to that house tomorrow, back to the woman, and maybe to the boy with the flapping hands?
    And then another thought. What was he going to tell Mack?

19
The Children's Heme
    Sam was awake half the night. Did he really want to do this?
    He stumbled out of bed in the morning, and dressed. Mack was in the workroom. Sam took a breath. “I'm going to see Caroline. It's her last day.”
    Mack nodded. “Nice. Go ahead. It's warm, sunny. A good idea.”
    If Mack knew, really knew
, Sam thought. He ate a quick breakfast of juice and muffins at Onji's, and asked for an extra sandwich for Caroline. “Her last day,” he said again.
    Onji looked up, a roll in his hand. “A picnic. Good.”
    Five minutes later, Sam was jogging along the road. Breathless, he reached the stores at the edge of town. Caroline was just ahead of him, wearing a purple hat, and awooden necklace over her sweater. She grabbed his hand and tugged as she started to run. “We're late,” she said.
    He'd never held hands with a girl before. Her hands were warm, and a little smaller than his. It made him smile even though he couldn't imagine how this day would end.
    “We may have missed the bus,” she said. “We'll have to wait a half hour for the next one.”
    They crossed the street in front of the bank, and went to stand at the stop in front of the Circle Diner. The bus was nowhere in sight. “I'll ask inside,” he said as Caroline bent to close the Velcro on her sneakers.
    He poked his head in the door. “Did the bus leave yet?”
    Tom at the counter hardly looked at him. “New York City or west?”
    “West,” Caroline called in.
    “Just missed it.”
    Caroline rolled her eyes. “Let's go sit in a booth. I have plenty of money.”
    He had money too, but he couldn't imagine swallowing anything. He followed her inside the empty diner and slid into the booth on the end.
    They sat there, not talking, until Tom brought the hot chocolates Caroline had called for across the room.
    Sam ignored his cup with the small marshmallows floating on top. “Tell me what's going on.” He leaned across the table.
    She pulled out the notebook. “While you were doing nothing—”
    He grinned.
    “I looked at the map. I started at the towns along the St. Lawrence River and looked on the Internet, trying to link two things together with the phone information. The Children's Home and Clayton's. You know, the picture—”
    “Of Mack and Lydia in front of the hardware store.”
    “There's a town called Clayton.”
    He took a breath.
    “But that's not it. There's another town called Waterway.” She frowned. “Waterway? And there's a Clayton's hardware store, and—”
    “The Children's Home.”
    “Well, almost. There's an Eleventh Street.”
    He sat back. They wouldn't find anything. He wanted to laugh with surprise and a feeling that was something like relief. Maybe he didn't have to know about himself. Maybe he could just stay with Mack, and Anima, and Onji forever.
    Onji always talked about