It looked like utter chaos to me, but Rosie was obsessed with it in high school.
Dennis said he wanted to make his home the same, and apparently I should have spent more time watching Rosie play, because I haven’t found any secret rooms or passageways yet.
I start my search in the kitchen. Pantry, drawers, and cupboards. Then the living room. Then the sitting room and dining room. There’s nothing to be found, and each of these rooms is too simple. I’m not giving Maya enough credit.
I peek into the theater room but immediately veto searching it. Arabella is still asleep, the final credits of the movie rolling. I back out and head into the library. For a woman who loves old things and the stories behind them, I feel like I’m getting closer.
Bookshelves line the exterior walls, leaving space only for the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a leather sofa and matching chair framing the cozy faux fireplace at the far end. In the middle of the room is a large glass display case filled with ancient artifacts and other paintings and interesting items. A music box, a glass lamp, a watch… How many of those are stolen?
I step closer to the case, eyeing the security system. There are no visible motion detectors. Weird. The items aren't necessarily priceless but are valuable. All I'd have to do is pick the lock. It would be easy.
Not that I plan on stealing more than what I came for, but sometimes it’s fun to dream.If I were a real thief, I’d—
“Planning your next heist?”
I swivel, finding Maya in the doorway. My eyes drink her in, her fuzzy purple socks, gray sweats, and black T-shirt with a pile of dirt and the wordsmy career is in ruins.
I fight a smile but can't stop my lips from twitching.
“It was a gift from my brother when I graduated,” she says, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. “It’s come true in more ways than one.”
Her face is makeup-free, but it was when I got here. She never wore more than mascara. Her eyes hypnotized every man who dared stare into them. No one more than me.
Her hair is down and slightly damp. It’s so long and dark. When did she let it grow? Was it when her life fell apart?
My fingers itch to take out my phone and Google her, but only some people’s misfortune can be found online, thank goodness.
“You could still go back,” I say, certain she couldn’t have ruined things too badly.
She purses her lips. “Not in this town.”
“So leave.”
Her eyes narrow. “That sure solved your problem, didn’t it?”
Oof.Right to the heart.
She was never the problem. She was the hope and dream I couldn’t have. Everything I wanted but never deserved.
“You weren’t…” But I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud. If I do, I might start believing them.
“I intend to fix my problems,” she says, ice in her words. She walks over to the sofa and drops into the corner. There’s a book on the armrest, and she picks it up, opening to her place. She must spend a lot of time here.
I casually cross the room. A metal figurine on the shelf nearest me catches my eye. It’s an eagle, tipped at an angle but still standing. Could that access a secret room? I can’t try it with Maya here. I continue on and sit in the chair directly opposite her, reading the title of the book in her hands.
The Odyssey. “Some light Christmas Eve reading, I see.”
Her face is nearly hidden by the book, but I catch a twitch of her cheek. “It’s a collector’s edition. I couldn’t let it sit untouched. That’s a crime against the past.”
“And how many other precious works are in need of saving?”
“Twelve hundredforty-two.”
That was a very precise and insurmountable number.
“What are they like?”
“The mythical gods?” She looks up from her book. “Heartless.”
