The Balloon Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

suspicious.
    Had the necklace come from Tracy's father, a belated gesture of goodwill, a sudden resurgence of conscience? A man who had
     a nickname like Warty didn't sound as if he had a conscience. And if he did have one, why hadn't he taken credit for the munificent,
     if inconvenient, gift? If the necklace had been sent or delivered through one of the legitimate channels, old Warty's name
     would be on that white card. Max had seen enough of Tracy during the past months to realize that she was as sensible as she
     was talented. She'd been sandwiching handwritten thank-you notes between her potting wheel and her kiln, taking care to list
     each gift as it came and not getting a single name or address wrong, and when she wasn't able to keep up with the deluge,
     Sarah and Miriam had helped her. Tracy hadn't seemed to expect much from her family. She'd been mildly gratified when her
     mother had evinced an interest in attending the wedding, and not surprised when the ex—Mrs. Pilcher, after a brief interest
     in knishes, had switched her attention to the best man.
    The poor kid was probably used to being a memorandum on some secretary's desk calendar, Max thought. Well, she had a family
     of her own now. Mike loved her, Miriam loved her, Ira loved her, the elder Bittersohns doted on her, Sarah and Max had welcomed
     her, and Davy had promised to let her play with the alligator that Grandfather Bittersohnhad carved for him, if she was careful not to let it bite her. She'd taken the whole family to her heart just as they had
     taken her to theirs. How could two such selfish people as Warty and Mrs. Warty have produced a child like Tracy? The more
     he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed that the CEO of Warty Pickles had come through with a suitable acknowledgment
     of his daughter's nuptial day.
    Eventually he got the belated sight-seers out of the room, checked to make sure there were no occupied trash bags under the
     desk and the tables, and locked the door again. By this time, the morning wedding had burgeoned into a day-long festival,
     but Max was relieved to see that the guests were beginning to wear out. They had seen all they wanted to see, eaten all they
     cared to eat or dared to drink, danced and made merry until their feet gave out; now they were only waiting for the bride
     and groom, in traveling clothes, to come out of their carriage house and be pelted with kisses and flowers and handfuls of
     rice. This done, they collected their boxes of wedding cake, each with a chrysanthemum tucked in under its russet satin bow,
     and began to take their leave. Some had trains or planes to catch or long distances to drive or pets to feed or plants to
     water or a strong desire to go home and flop on the living room couch. Max wouldn't have minded doing a little flopping himself,
     but he had a feeling it would be a while before he could.
    For one thing, there was Davy, fresh as a daisy after his nap, flushed with triumph after his performance on thedance floor, and demanding attention from the cruel parent who had callously abandoned him that morning. He'd had a wonderful
     time with his favorite baby-sitter and her kids and their alligators, but daddies had to be kept in their places. Tugging
     at Max's hand, he tried to pull him onto the makeshift dance floor.
    Max smiled fondly but wanly at the little face looking up at him from around the level of his aching knee. If there was anything
     he didn't feel like doing just then, it was the Pussycat Prowl. Looking around in the hope of rescue, he caught sight of an
     object he prayed would provide a distraction.
    “Look, Davy. There, up in the sky.”
    Davy gasped. “It's a flying saucer! Martians, Daddy!”
    It did have an otherworldly look, gliding serenely across the sky, its swelling shape striped in colors that matched the sunset.
     Max hated to destroy his son's innocent fantasy, but the stern duty of a parent demanded he speak the truth.
    “I'm afraid