Page 4 of Five Stolen Rings
“Ooh,” India says. “Fancy.”
“I know,” I say, my voice dry. Lucky, Colorado, is pressed snug against the Rocky Mountains to the west, just north of Boulder, and the homes up in the foothills cost way more money than I can even fathom spending on a house. “I’m watering her plants and airing out the rooms and feeding her pets.”
“Pets…plural?”
“Pets plural,” I say as a smile tugs at my lips. “Two cats and four birds.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you imagine the noise?”
“No,” I say with a snort. “But she’s paying me seven-hundred-fifty dollars, so?—”
“What?” India says, spinning around, her eyes wide.
I nod. “Yep. For the next twelve days.”
“Oh,” she says, her surprised expression clearing. “Well, twelve days, that’s a long time. You’re not staying there, though, right? Sleeping there or anything?”
“No, just going by every day.” I finish wiping down the two cages I’m sitting next to in the kennel room, and then Istand up, wiggling my legs as pins and needles rush in. “Okay, I should probably get going. I have a shift at the market.” I sigh. “Thanks for letting me play with the Schnauzer!”
“Have fun,” India says as I head toward the door, half of her body inside a massive dog cage now. “And I hope no intruders try to break in while you’re at the fancy house.”
“It is not possible,” I say with a snort, “for me to be that unlucky.”
STELLA
I’ve never actually met Maude Ellery, but when I arrive at her home in the foothills later that evening and then call her for the key code to enter—as per her instructions to my mother—the voice that answers my phone call is brisk and slightly nasally.
“Hi, Mrs. Ellery,” I say, scooting further into the respite of the porch. The wind is brutal today. “This is Stella Partridge. I’m the one?—”
“MissEllery, please, if you don’t mind,” she cuts me off, only she pronounces itMiz,dragging out thatzsound so it buzzes down the line. “You’ve arrived at the house?”
“Yes,” I say. I stare up at the massive oak front door that somehow makes me feel much shorter than my five-foot-seven.
“Excellent,” Maude Ellery says loudly. “Go ahead and let yourself in, then. The passcode is0131. Hit the poundkey after.”
I punch the numbers in, and a short second later a little whir and click sound from the door. It opens with a lurch when I pull on the large brass handle.
“I’m in,” I say to Maude as I step inside. A cloud of warmth envelops me and grows even toastier as I shut the front door behind me.
“Perfect,” she says. “The animal supplies are in the closet off the kitchen; you should find everything you need there. I want the windows opened in each room for thirty minutes daily,” she goes on, “because my allergies are very sensitive, and stale air always sets them off. There are thorough instructions on the refrigerator about the plants and the pets.”
“Sounds good,” I say. I’m not particularly looking forward to taking care of four birds and two cats for the next week and a half, but beggars can’t be choosers—and I am a beggar. I am the begging-est beggar that ever did beg.
Just for now!I tell myself, inhaling deeply and trying to pull some enthusiasm in with the oxygen.You’ll turn things around and everything will be great.
“Well, hop to it, then,” Maude says, and there’s a faint note of haughtiness in her voice now. “Your mother says you’re a responsible girl, anarchitect, so I’m sure everything will be taken care of properly. And remember the security cameras are placed in every room.”
A warning for me to behave. I don’t let myself take offense at this. If I hired someone to watch my house based only on their mother’s recommendation, I’d take precautions too.
“Of course,” I say. “I’ll get started right away.”
“Good. Oh—and dust the portraits while you’re there,too, won’t you? They’re some of my most prized possessions, you know.”
I blink. “Sorry—the what?”
