The Missing Madonna Read Online Free PDF

arrived back at Mount St. Francis College, where they spent the weekend recuperating. The other nuns were happy to have them home. Or so they said. Eileen staunchly denied that Sister Cecilia’s face fell when they’d arrived in the community room on Friday after supper and announced they were home.
    “You are terrible!” Eileen said. “Besides, it is just not true. Her face did not change one iota when she saw us. If anything, she smiled.”
    “Barely,” Mary Helen conceded.
    “Glory be to God, give the woman credit She’s the college president. Even if she wasn’t completely happy to see us, she never would have let on. After all, she has had years of practicing the fine art of pretending to be happy to see people. The poor thing probably just had a hard day.”
    “Maybe it wasn’t her face. Maybe it was something in her eyes.” Mary Helen stopped to let that sink in. She considered herself an expert on eyes.
    Eileen didn’t dignify the remark with an answer.
    “But what really made me wonder was when she looked up from her crossword puzzle and said, ‘I need a seven-letter word for
disturbance,’
glanced over at us, and said,
‘Trouble.’ ”
    “You are the living limit” was all that Eileen said.
    There was no doubt young Sister Anne had been glad to see them back. “It’s Dullsville around here without you two,” she said, giving each of them a warm hug. The Big Apple T-shirt they brought home for her was a hit At least Anne wore it the very next day.
    “How do you like it?” she had asked at breakfast, blinking naively behind her purple-rimmed glasses. Mary Helen cringed.
    Sister Therese, who preferred her name pronounced
trays
, sniffed and answered for the group. “I do think something from the shrine of St. Elizabeth Seton might have been more appropriate.” She rolled her dark eyes toward Mary Helen, then heavenward. “However,” she added, with a little jab in her voice, “it does match the blue jeans and those sandal-like shoes you insist on wearing.”
    Mary Helen could tell from Anne’s face that the young nun took the remark as a compliment. Mary Helen knew better.
    “Do you feel as if you have just been accused of contributing to the delinquency of a minor?” she asked Eileen, out of Therese’s earshot Although Therese was slightly deaf, her hearing had an uncanny way of suddenly improving. Not taking any chances, Eileen answered with a wink.
    There was no question about the Fanny Farmer chocolates they brought home. The candy was an overwhelming success. By Sunday noon the whole box was empty, except for the marzipan piece that no one liked. Mary Helen knew from experience that before much more time passed someone’s sweet tooth would get desperate and that piece, too, would disappear.
    At first everyone had asked about their trip. At Sunday supper, however, Mary Helen noticed that although the other nuns listened politely, their eyes werebeginning to glaze over whenever someone mentioned New York.
    Monday morning Mary Helen had gone over to her office late. All day long she had fully expected Erma Duran to call so they could hash over the trip. Actually she was disappointed when Erma didn’t get in touch. Somehow, reliving the adventure was half the fun.
    In fact, she had called Erma’s apartment once or twice, but there was no answer. Monday was Erma’s day off, and Mary Helen was beginning to get a bit concerned.
    “Don’t be silly,” Eileen said when Mary Helen mentioned it to her at dinner. “The poor woman is probably dog-tired. Maybe she’s just not answering. Anyway, isn’t today the day she comes up here for her class?”
    Mary Helen tried to remember whether or not it was a Monday when she had met Erma and Lucy at the college, but she couldn’t recall.
    “If that were the case, don’t you think the two of them would have dropped by to see us?”
    “They are probably exhausted, jet lag and all,” Eileen had answered sensibly.
    Mary Helen nodded. Her