Greenglass House Read Online Free Page A

to be a matter of whose luggage had been taking up too much space in the boot. At last, they stood there silently on either side of the railcar, he with his arms folded across his chest and she with her hands balled into fists at her sides.
    Milo smiled a big, welcoming smile and pointed to the path that led up to the inn. “Right this way,” he said, as if he hadn’t just had to wait out a storm of screeching. “Come right on up.”
    They each shot one last crabby look at the other; then Mrs. Up gave a noise like a growl and turned to the mess of gear strewn across the pavilion floor. She picked out an armful of mauve carry-on bags and strung them across her shoulders until she had mostly disappeared under them. “Young man, could I trouble you to bring my suitcase and my garment bag?”
    Milo nodded and she made a face that was pretty close to a smile, then stamped out of the shelter, wincing with each step as her patent-leather heels sank into the snow.
    Mr. Down waited with his arms still folded until she was out of earshot, then gave a giant, displeased sigh. “I was under the impression that this would be a quiet sort of place at this time of year,” he said, looking at Milo as if he, personally, were responsible for giving out wrong information.
    Milo shrugged. “You and me both. I’m supposed to be on vacation. Inn’s that way. Can I help you with those?”
    â€œNo, thank you, I’ll manage.” The short fellow gave another sigh and collected the rest of the gear piece by piece. Then, looking like a pack animal, he started down the path too.
    Milo walked once around the pavilion to make sure there were no forgotten bags or cases hiding in corners or lying on the rails before following the two combatants toward the inn. He slung Mrs. Up’s garment bag over his shoulder by its hook and grasped the handle of her rolling suitcase. Then, just at the edge of the woods where the path reached the lawn, he paused and listened. There was a sound behind him, coming from the wooded hill. But not from the railway. This was a hollow sound, not a mechanical one. Even muffled by the snow, it was familiar, though Milo couldn’t quite believe he was hearing it.
    Someone was coming up the stairs. And, from the pace of the footfalls, that someone was coming up fast, practically sprinting up the last dozen steps. Milo jogged back to the edge of the platform and peered down into the snow swirling through the trees.
    By the uneven glow from the occasional lamppost and the twisted strings of fairy lights, he saw that a dark figure was, in fact, approaching. And that figure was not merely sprinting up the stairs; he or she was taking them two at a time. Which, apart from being a fairly dangerous thing to do on snow-slick steps, seemed as though it ought to be physically impossible. There were, after all, more than three hundred of them. It was an exhausting climb under the best of circumstances.
    He waited for the person to slow down. It didn’t happen. The newcomer jumped the last three steps to land at the top, looking fresh as a daisy. A snow-covered daisy in a black knit cap, carrying a truly gigantic backpack on its shoulders. And wearing pink lip gloss.
    â€œHey there!” she said, grinning at Milo with only a little flush on her cheeks. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Looking for the Greenglass House, supposed to be somewhere hereabouts.”
    â€œYeah.” Milo stared down the incline, still trying to figure out how she wasn’t red-faced and dying of exhaustion. “Yeah. Right this way. Er—I’m Milo. My folks run the inn.”
    â€œClemence O. Candler,” she replied, holding out a hand with gray-painted fingernails. “My friends call me Clem.”
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    Inside the inn, chaos had taken over. Mr. Down and Mrs. Up were still yelling at each other, only now they were doing so in the middle of the living room, he gesturing