Artful Dodger (Maggie Kean Mis-Adventures) by Nageeba Davis

planned on making me stand outside until I finally gave up and went home. Suddenly the door swung open and Preston stood in front of me, his feet apart, the hall light silhouetting his rigid body.
    My heart sank when I recognized the barely controlled anger. I was not in the mood to deal with another tantrum. I was here on a mission and I needed time alone. Judging by the look on his face, though, he was going to hound my every footstep.
    “Well, if it isn’t the little gold digger,” he sneered.
    I sighed. “I just came for the picture, Preston. I’m not here to engage in a verbal fistfight with you or Cassie or anyone else. Now... may I come in, please?”
    Preston moved imperceptibly and I took the opportunity to slip past him.  I stood behind him, waiting, until he shut the door and turned around.
    “The picture is in Grandmother’s office. I’m surprised you didn’t take it this afternoon.”
    “I wasn’t thinking very clearly. Some of us were more overcome by sadness than others,” I said pointedly. 
    His face darkened. “You’ve accused me of not caring about Grandmother for the last time,” he warned. “You have no right to speak to me that way. My feelings are my own business and I see no reason to debate the issue with someone who clearly took advantage of her advanced age and loneliness.”
    “Don’t bother with the lies, Preston.  Save the grieving grandson routine for someone who is gullible,” I said, starting down the hallway. “Right now I’m going to Elizabeth’s office. Don’t feel obligated to show me the way. I was here this afternoon when you got the bad news, remember?”
    The flush started at his collar and worked its way up his face. When it passed his forehead, I half expected the top of his head to blow off like a cartoon character. “Don’t think for one minute that you’ll see a dime of our money, Maggie. Cassandra and I are already working with another attorney to get the will invalidated.”
    “What is it you expect to find?” I asked, spinning around to face him. “That I tampered with the will? Do you think I deleted your name and typed in my own?” His chin jutted out like the pouty little boy he still was.
    “Grandmother would never forget me. She told me the money was Cassandra’s and mine, not some stray oddball she picked up next door.”
    If I hadn’t been so intent on getting to Elizabeth’s office, I would have popped him right then and there.  A broken nose would have done him good. Preston’s face was mottled with anger and the skin under his chin was beginning to sag although he was only in his late twenties, somewhere close to my age. Despite the softness, Preston was still skinny, with sharp elbows, and a pointy chin. Peering myopically through his black horn-rimmed glasses, he looked like Poindexter with a bad attitude.
    “If you thought I was such an oddball, why did you agree to take me out to dinner?”
    “It was Grandmother’s idea. She thought we’d make a cute couple.”
    I grimaced at the picture we made that night—me in my standard bag dress and Preston nervously sweating in his coat and tie, one hand fidgeting with the keys in his pocket.
    “You didn’t have to agree to go at all, you know. You’re a big boy. I’m sure Elizabeth would have gotten over the disappointment.  You could have saved us both a fairly long evening, to put it politely.”
    “You know very well how persistent Grandmother can—could—be. She thought it was a good idea and she kept pushing until it happened.  She was a stubborn old lady.”
    I detected a faint note of wistfulness underneath his obnoxious exterior. Every once in a while a glimmer of something rose to the surface that actually made him seem human. Preston worked hard to squelch this side of himself and, unfortunately, he was quite successful at doing so. So Preston remained Preston, obnoxious and rude on the outside... and obnoxious and rude on the inside.
    “You know, Preston.