SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 Read Free

knowingly, spying the hungry anticipation on the furry faces.
    “It’s not your fault, Mom,” I said. “I’m the one who missed the bus, remember?”
    We laughed about how spoiled the cats had become. “Thanks to their doting mama,” chortled Mom.
    It was true. I had spoiled my cats rotten. But wasn’t it the sensible, loving thing to do with felines? Programming them to expect fresh, rich cow’s milk every day after school was part of being a pampering pet owner. Or as Mom said, a doting mama.
    “You’ll have to forgive me this time,” I said, pouring the raw, cream-rich milk into two medium-sized bowls. Abednego, being the oldest and fattest, had his own opinion about pecking order. He allowed only his next-in-line brother, Shadrach, to share his bowl.
    I grinned and brushed my hand over their backs. “Mama’s so sorry about the late snack.”
    Sitting there on the floor hearing the gentle lapping sounds of healthy, contented cats, I thought again of my friend Chelsea. She needed a phone call. Now.
    Without another word to my furry friends, I scanned our country kitchen. Mom had evidently gone upstairs.
    Quickly, I crossed the room to the phone, picked it up, and listened for the dial tone. I knew Chelsea might not be able to talk openly if her dad was within earshot, but at least she could hear me out.
    “Hi, Chels,” I said when she answered. “It’s Merry and I’ve got a genius idea.”
    “You say that about all your ideas.” She wasn’t laughing.
    I was smart enough to know it wasn’t a compliment. “Can you talk now?” I asked.
    “I’m talking, aren’t I?” She sounded depressed.
    “But is your dad around?”
    “Daddy’s still at work. Someone has to work around here.”
    “Yeah.”
    “So what is it—your genius plan?” she asked.
    “Well, I’ve been thinking. We oughta go over your place with a fine-tooth comb. You know, search for clues.”
    “I thought of that, too.” Her voice sounded small. “Do you wanna come over?”
    “Sure.”
    “Tomorrow after school?”
    “Okay, good. Have you heard anything more about your mom?” As soon as I voiced the words, I wished I’d kept quiet.
    “No, but there was an urgent message from the bank on Dad’s computer when I got home,” she said. “It seems that some money is missing from my parents’ joint account.” Her voice was hollow.
    “You’re kidding?”
    “Not one word to anyone, you hear?” She was silent. Then—“I can’t believe Mom would do this. She’d never do anything like this if…” Chelsea stopped, and I heard her breath coming into the phone in short little puffs.
    “It’s okay, Chels,” I said. “You can trust me.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. I keep wondering if someone’s brainwashed Mom—taken control of her somehow. Have you ever read about stuff like that?”
    “Brainwashed? Why do you think that?”
    Chelsea whimpered into the phone. “I have a weird feeling about that guy and his wife.”
    “Any idea who they are?”
    She exhaled. “Maybe Dad remembers their names. I sure don’t.”
    “Why don’t you ask him when he gets home?” It was just a suggestion. We didn’t have much else to go on.
    “I’ll wait and see how he feels tonight.”
    I wanted so badly to tell her not to worry, that I was trusting God to work things out. But that was exactly the sort of talk that often disconnected Chelsea from me. So I said, “Hey, call me anytime, okay? Even in the middle of the night if you want. I’ll put Skip’s portable phone in my bedroom, and no one’ll ever know the difference.”
    “Won’t the ringing wake up your parents?” she asked. “If you give me the number, I could call your cell instead.”
    “No, the cell phone’s just for calling my parents. And don’t worry about bothering anyone here. Dad’s working the late shift at the hospital, so he won’t be home tonight, and Mom’s a heavy sleeper. She’ll never hear it ring.”
    “And you will ?”
    I chuckled. “I’ll