Page 35 of Five Stolen Rings

While Stella is feeding the plants and animals, I work on the lights in the backyard.

I’m not doing it for Maude. I couldn’t care less what her house looks like—the house she bought with the money she got after my dad passed away. I guessIcould have bought a house with the money I got too, but I stuck it into a savings account instead. Maybe someday I’ll buy my own place with my own Christmas decorations.

If I don’t do these lights, Stella will probably try again, because Christmas is in less than a week. I don’t know if I can handle the anxiety of watching that. Her firstattempt ended in a trip to the ER; who knows what the second attempt would do?

I don’t think climbing up into a tree is the best way to put lights on it, anyway. I dig around in the garage until I find a ladder, and after that it’s pretty easy. Stella reemerges from the house when I’m almost done, and I pretend I don’t notice her watching me from down below.

“Animals fed?” I say once I’ve climbed back down.

“Animals fed,” she says with a nod.

“Birds cooperated?”

“So far.” Her voice is musing now. “But they’re just pretending. They’ll lull me into a false sense of security and then carry out an organized attack when I least expect it.”

“Mmm,” I say, holding back my smile as I collapse the ladder. “Devious.”

“I know.” She pauses and then looks at me, raising one eyebrow. “Do you need to go snoop around or anything while we’re here?”

“No,” I say. I hoist the ladder up and carry it around the house to the garage, leaning it carefully against the wall where I found it. Then I dust off my hands. “I’m still figuring out what to do about that.”

She just watches me, her eyes narrowed slightly, like she’s thinking hard. “Are you going to tell me what you’re looking for?”

I debate for only a moment as my gaze drinks her in. Her nose is turning pink from the cold—mine is probably the same—and her blonde hair is pulled into a messy ponytail with strands that whip around her face in the chilled wind.

“My mother’s rings,” I finally say with a sigh. “Maude has mymother’s rings.”

Stella blinks in surprise. “The five of them? The ones your dad gave your mom?”

She remembers; I didn’t think she would.

“Yeah,” I say. “Maude took them after my dad passed.”

Now Stella’s jaw drops. “But—those are your mom’s!”

I snort and shove my hands in my jean pockets, ambling slowly back toward my car. “I know,” I say. “That’s why I want them back.”

“I—” she begins, then breaks off. “You’re sure she has them?” She hurries to catch up with me.

“Sure enough to break in and look for them,” I say with a shrug as I look over at her.

“What a strange woman,” Stella murmurs. She glances over her shoulder at Maude’s mansion. “Usually when someone has a lot of animals, they strike me as loving and empathetic.”

“Maude…” I say, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Maude likes pretty things,” I finally settle on. “Be it animals or jewelry that doesn’t belong to her. She’s not an evil person, I don’t think. Just shallow and unconcerned with morals. I dislike her strongly, but I don’t hate her the way I probably would if she was truly horrible.”

“Ikind of hate her,” Stella says, her nose scrunched up with distaste.

“Maybe there’s a portrait in there that could change your mind,” I say, and she laughs. The sound rings through the dark, frigid air like a pealing bell.

And I could ask her, now, what happened with her job; I’ve told her about the rings, and she might answer. But I don’t want to, somehow. I’d rather wait until she comes to me on her own.

Actually, I’d rather wake up tomorrow morning anddiscover I don’tcarewhat happened with her job. That would be best. I can hope, can’t I?

“So about the reunion thing,” Stella says, and I raise one eyebrow at her; she goes on. “What exactly do you need from me?” She fidgets uncomfortably, wringing her hands together. “I guess I owe you one.”

My pulse stutters as my mind jumps to places it has no business going—nothing dirty, but nothing neutral, either.

I should tell her there’s been a change of plans. I should tell her I don’t need her help after all. That’s what would be safest. And yet…

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