Page 83 of Five Stolen Rings
“Yes,” she says, sounding almost bored. “I did.”
Jack’s hands twitch, as though he’s trying not to clench them in anger. “They weren’t yours to take,” he says evenly.
“Hmm.” Maude reaches into a flap of her dress—is that even a thing? Is she wearing a muumuu? I can’t really tell—and pulls out a very familiar little box.
Oh, dear.
The little hinges squeak as she opens the lid, and she holds it out for us to see—at which point my head whips toward Jack, my jaw gaping.
“Did you not even take the mood rings out?” I say, my voice incredulous.
“No,” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes on Maude. “Because I didn’t think she would look.”
“Because youdidn’t seethe security cameras,” I say, rubbing my hand down my face. “Good grief, Jack.”
He finally takes his attention away from Maude, turning it on me instead. “Hey,” he says, a little frown furrowing his brow. “That’s my line.”
And in spite of the absolutely ridiculous situation we find ourselves in—in spite of the very real trouble that could be coming our way—I can’t stop my little smile. Even though he broke into his stepmother’s house, I’msmilingat him.
Oh my goodness. Am I going to be one of those womenwho visit their boyfriends in jail every week for years? Is that my lot in life?
No. Absolutely not.
“Listen up,” I say, pointing at Jack. “You better figure this outnow”—I gesture around us at Maude and the rings—“because I am not going to visit you in prison, Jack. Okay? I’m not going to do that. I really,reallylike you. But I deserve better than a conjugal visit boyfriend. And you, frankly, deserve better than jail. So explain yourself to Miss Maude Ellery”—I put a nicezsound at the end ofmiss, just like the lady herself did, and she nods with approval—“and do it politely, please, and in full consciousness of the fact that while you may hold the moral high ground, you do not in fact have any legal legs to stand on.”
Jack gapes at me, but I just gesture to Maude.
“Go on,” I say. “Explain.”
“Yes, Jack,” Maude says in that dry, sarcastic voice. “By all means,doexplain yourself. And make it quick; I haven’t ruled out calling the police, you know.”
JACK
I have to say, I don’t appreciate the judgment I’m getting here. I don’t appreciate it one bit.
“I don’t know about that,” I say to Stella in response to her claim that I have no legal legs to stand on. “I might have broken into this house?—”
“Illegally,” she says, her voice strained.
I wave that away. “But she took the rings. My guess is that there’s some legal way to prove they belong to me. I know my father wouldn’t have left them to—toher.” I gesture to Maude, who just sniffs.
But come on. It’s not like my father left a grand, complicated will that a solicitor read to all of the family members—all two of us. A specific chunk of money came straight to me, but I let Maude handle everything else.
I wince internally at this thought, because I guess it’s partially my fault I didn’t get the rings. I’ve asked for them a couple times since he died, and Maude has alwayssaid no. If I had involved myself in his affairs after he died, though, this situation might not have arisen in the first place.
Clearing my throat loudly, I turn my attention back to Maude. “You took my mother’s rings, and I want them back.”
It’s a strange conversation to be having in this room that’s decked out for Christmas. It’s even stranger to be looking at my stepmother in person when the portrait of her looms on the wall above, weirdly provocative.
I shudder and look away, letting my gaze drop back to the real Maude. She’s eyeing me with one thin brow raised, but it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. It always has been; she’s an unpredictable woman.
Theotherunpredictable woman in my life seems to be having trouble controlling her nerves. Stella’s leg bounces as she sits next to me, and I finally reach over and place one hand on her knee. Maude tracks the movement with her beady little eyes.
When she speaks, though, it’s not about either of us. She holds up the little brown box, five rings on display and glinting in the light of the room. “What was your plan with these?” she says, and I flush.
It wasn’t a stupid plan,I tell myself.Don’t be embarrassed.
It’s just…the mood rings from the cereal box are still in there. So I am alittleembarrassed.
