Finding Elmo Read Online Free Page A

expected to see her standing behind the counter, but she wasn’t there. At least not at first.
    When she did pop up from behind the counter, cradling a copper pot in her arms, my first thought was that she didn’t lookanything like Mr. Singh. She had long dark hair that she wore in a braid down her back and her eyes were like stars.
    â€œYou must be Tim,” she said. “I’m delighted to meet you. Great-uncle tells me we have much in common. There are twins in my family too. Mine are sisters. They have the same dark hair I do. Only not so long, of course.”
    When she talked, she moved her hands, and the gold bangles on her wrist jangled.
    â€œNice to meet you,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. Her fingers felt small and warm.
    I didn’t have to worry about what to say next because Sapna seemed to be one of those people who never ran out of conversation. It was hard to feel shy around her. “It was a very long flight from New Delhi,” she said. “Fifteen hours if you include the stopover in Frankfurt. It’s a good thing I arrived when I did, because I don’t know how Great-uncle would have managed without me tonight.”
    Just then I heard the sound of someone snapping his fingers. It was Mr. Morgan.He’d tracked me down at the food court. “I need two glasses of white wine for some friends of mine. On the double.”
    I wanted to tell him not to order me around, but of course, I couldn’t. He ran Realco. And he wanted a kid in a penguin suit to serve wine to his snooty friends. “Look,” I told Sapna, “I’ve gotta go, but let’s talk later.” Then I headed back to the store and toward the bar.
    On the way, I spotted Elmo. He and Winifred and Hubert were perched on their swings under the palm tree. There were people milling around, gushing about the colors of the birds’ feathers and coaxing them to talk.
    â€œHello, hello, hello,” a bald-headed man kept repeating. He sounded like he was having trouble with his cell phone.
    When I caught his eye, Elmo stopped preening himself and lifted one wing. I nodded and then, for a second, he shut his eyes the way he does when I pet him.
    â€œNeed some help?” a familiar voice asked. What was Rodney doing here? “My mom,uh, needed to get milk. When we saw Four Feet and Feathers was open late...” He was talking more quickly than usual. Was I making him nervous? Then I remembered how I’d given him a hard time the other day. He hadn’t deserved it.
    â€œSlow down, Phantom, will ya?”
    Rodney cracked a little smile. “Hey, Tim,” he said, “what’s going on here, anyway?”
    â€œThey’re having a party.”
    â€œWhy would anyone want to have a party in a pet store?”
    â€œJust what I was thinking.”
    â€œAre you sure I can’t help?”
    â€œNa, I’m all ri—,” I said, but then I changed my mind. “See Mr. Singh over there at the back of the store? Could you grab that tray from him? Just don’t let the samosas get jammed at one end.”
    Someone clapped their hands at the front of the store. “Mr. Morgan,” a woman called out, “time for your speech, sir.” Straightaway, people quieted down and headed to the dance floor, where a microphone was set up.
    I grabbed two glasses of wine and hurried over to where Mr. Morgan was standing with his friends. The woman thanked me when I handed her a glass. “Richard,” she said, holding her glass up to toast Mr. Morgan, “to a wonderful host and devoted friend.”
    â€œWhy, thank you.” Mr. Morgan sounded embarrassed. Then he turned to face me. I figured he wanted to give me a few more orders before making his speech. “Who’s that child?” he asked, pointing at Rodney. “And why is he wearing that ridiculous outfit?”
    â€œHe’s—uh—a friend of mine.”
    Mr. Morgan