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

palms breaking out in a sweat, I shut the drawers, jumped up, and pushed her chair back into its original position. I took one last look around, praying that I had returned everything to its original spot. But as I started to turn away, my eyes fell on the appointment book sitting on top of the desk. Without thinking, I tossed it into my large leather bag.  Moving quickly, I had both hands on the frame of Elizabeth’s picture just as the door was thrown open hard enough to slam against the opposite wall. The crash seemed obscenely loud in the deep silence.
    “What the hell is taking so long?” Preston demanded.
    I jumped back, tripped over a small painting leaning against the wall, and nearly stumbled to the floor. “My God, Preston, do you have to barge into the room like you thought I was stealing the family jewels?”
    “I’ll enter any room in this house exactly the way I want to. This is my house and I want to know why you’re still in it. Quite frankly, you’ve been in here long enough to actually steal whatever valuables you found.  I wouldn’t put it past you.”
    My throat closed at the thought of Preston becoming suspicious enough to rummage through my purse. It would be difficult to explain Elizabeth’s book thrown in with my Chap Stick, checkbook, and sketchpad.
    “You really do have family jewels?” I exclaimed, hoping to distract him. “Tiaras and diamond necklaces and emerald chokers?”
    “Of course we do, just not right out here in the open. They’re in a vault—” He stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”
    “I don’t. Just making polite conversation,” I called over my shoulder while carefully lifting the landscape from the wall. “Elizabeth was quite talented,” I said softly.  “It’s too bad she gave up painting for so many years. I think she could have been a very important artist.”
    “It certainly wasn’t her choice. It was that bastard she was married to.”
    “I never met him.”
    “No, he died several years ago, a true blessing. It gave Grandmother a few years to live her life the way she wanted without him trying to force her to bend to his will all the time.”
    “Sounds like he tried to force all of you.”
    Preston walked over to the circle of chairs and slumped down in one of them. “Not me. He didn’t bother to acknowledge me with anything more than a nod of his head as we passed in the hallway. Sometimes I used to wonder if he even knew who I was or whether he thought I was just another one of the servants.”
    Uh-oh. I was starting to feel guilty for my small act of burglary. Maybe Preston’s whole loathsome, repulsive act was a poignant cry for help. Maybe this was his way of grieving, not only for Elizabeth, but for an entire loveless childhood.
    “You know, Preston, sometimes you say things that could actually be construed as human. Maybe you ought to try and expand that side of you a little more instead of keeping it so well hidden most of the time.”
    He laughed. “Don’t go getting all mushy and female on me, Maggie. The only thing I’ve ever remotely liked about you is your tough-as-nails attitude.”
    Great. So much for my sparkling personality.
    “And the only thing that made the old man tolerable was knowing I would eventually inherit his estate through Grandmother,” he added for further clarification.
    “How sentimental,” I responded dryly.
    “Sentiment is a waste of time. It doesn’t get me, or Cassandra, any closer to the money that Grandmother assured us. The fact is, after all her promises about how I would be a wealthy man when she died, she ended up betraying me. Well, now she’s dead. Grandmother is dead and she lied to me. So if you expect me to be devastated, you’re going to be very disappointed.  The only thing on my mind is how to get rid of any obstacle that lies between me and the wealth that is rightfully mine.” He took a deep breath and stared right at me, his eyes cold and flat. “And right now