Page 92 of The Maid's Secret

Loud and clear, I hear Gran’s answer as though she were perched right next to me—Turn the page. Start a new chapter.

I close my eyes, ruminating on her words, letting them soothe me. The next thing I know, I hear a key in the front door and Juan’s tremulous voice calling, “Molly? Where are you?”

I jump off the bed, rearranging the pillows and spread. I hurry out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Juan is standing in the living room, his shoulders tense.“Dios mío,”he says the second he lays eyes on me. “What were you doing in there? Are you all right?” he asks as he gathers me in his arms.

“I’m perfectly well,” I say. “I was going to clean Gran’s room. Then I lay down for a moment, and I must have fallen asleep.”

“Good,” says Juan as he showers me with kisses.

“How was your shift at the hotel?” I ask.

“Regular. Nothing to report, except that Lily, Sunshine, Angela, and Sunitha all miss you. They told me to tell you that.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I missed them today, too. And you,” I say.

Juan smiles, then goes to the door and locks it. “Molly, I’m glad you’re home safe.”

“Me, too,” I reply. “Detective Stark took me to see the Bees. Turns out, it’s not uncommon for stolen art to reappear. They don’t think I have anything to worry about. Maybe the thieves got cold feet.”

“As long asyoudon’t get cold feet,” says Juan as he takes my hand and leads me to the sofa in the living room.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, for better or for worse,” I say.

“Always for better,” he replies, “but I’m concerned that with everything going on, we can’t concentrate on our wedding. You still need a dress, and we need to figure out the reception.”

“Not to mention where we’ll live after we’re married,” I say. “If Mr.Rosso sells our apartment out from under us, where will we go?”

“I don’t know,” says Juan. “But let’s not focus on that right now. Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, right?”

“Right,” I say.

“And speaking of positives, you’re not going to believe this, but Cheryl apologized today.”

“Cheryl?” I say.

“She came to the kitchen this afternoon acting even shiftier than usual. I expected her to try to sell me swampland on the moon, but then she suddenly apologized for eating my giraffe marzipanimal in the morning.”

“I can’t believe it,” I reply. “She must want something. The question is: What?”

“Exactly,” he says.

“I have a funny feeling about all of this. The egg’s disappearance and its return. It’s like there’s a puzzle piece right in front of me, but I can’t quite see it. If I could just place it in its spot, the entire picture would be complete.”

“Thehuevohas always been a mystery.”

“Hard to crack,” I add, waiting for Juan to smile at my pun, which he does. “The Bees want me to sell it. Should I?”

“You’d be rich,” he says, “like they promised before.”

“A promise that failed to materialize,” I say.

“What will you do?” Juan asks.

“I don’t know. I need to think it through. All I want is my life back, for things to return to normal for both of us.”

“All I want is to marry you,” says Juan, “and for us to live happily ever after for the rest of our lives.”

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