“HOW MUCH TIME do you think you’ll need?”
“I don’t know. Probably not a whole hour?” Pearl saw the look on Reese’s face and tossed her hands up. It was the next night, and the dining room and the start of their dinner shift waited beyond the kitchen doors, strains of Steve Mills singing “When Sunny Gets Blue” rising over the current of conversation. “Well, there are a lot of rooms. And I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“But you’ll know it when you see it, huh?” When she shrugged, he sighed, glancing over at the rear entrance to the kitchen. “How sure are you about this?”
“It’s a feeling. I’m going to do it either way. You don’t have to help.”
“Haskins, I’m helping. You’re the one who actually cares about keeping her job here.” He took her shoulders and steered her ahead of him, massaging her like a fighter. “If Meriwether comes sniffing around, I’ll give her an ankle to chew on until you’re clear. Sound good?”
“Thanks, Reese. I mean it.”
He split off from her, and the evening began, passing far too quickly, the hours slipping through her fingers as she greeted and served and cleared away, nervous energy propelling her toward what was easily one of the craziest things she’d ever done.
At nine o’clock closing time, Pearl wiped down her section, topped off the salt and pepper shakers, and made a pretense of counting her tips as the other servers prepared to go home. Then, grabbing her bag, she went to the staff restrooms, chose a stall, and climbed up on the toilet tank, where her feet couldn’t be seen beneath the door.
The restroom had already been cleaned for the night, and everything was damp, smelling of bleach. She closed her eyes, listening to the distant sound of footsteps, the occasional laugh carrying from the kitchen. Overhead, the energy-saver sensor light turned off, leaving her in blackness.
Eventually, all sound stopped. Pearl shifted on the cold porcelain, checking the time on her phone. Nearly a quarter to ten. Everybody must be out by now. She slid down, making the light blink on again, and went to the door, peering out.
The sconces in the corridor were still on. She had no idea whose job it was to make sure all the lobby lights were off at night, but generally everybody who worked the front desk and office was gone by five o’clock. Except sometimes salaried employees, like Meriwether.
With that, there were footsteps, and Pearl jerked back through the doorway, forcing the slow-close door shut with her hip. Light, quick steps across the hardwood, joined by others, and Meriwether’s voice rang out in the silence. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy? Can I help you?”
“Not unless you’ve got my car keys.” Reese spoke in the usual bored monotone he used with the assistant manager. “Can’t find them anywhere.”
A short, tense sigh. “I haven’t seen any keys. It’s way past closing time, so I suggest you call someone for a ride.”
“I can’t just leave my car here. Look, they’re around somewhere—I went to the bathroom during my break, so maybe—”
“No one is supposed to be back here.” Pearl pictured the telltale vein standing out in Meriwether’s brow. “You already have one write-up. It would be wise not to push it. If you don’t have a phone handy, use the lobby line.”
“Okay, okay.” Reese muttered something more under his breath.
“What did you say?” The silence stretched on, so long that Pearl strained her ears, wondering what she was missing. Then it hit her: the restroom was still bathed in light; the motion sensor hadn’t timed out yet. Meriwether could be staring at the strip of light beneath the door right now.
Pearl shoved the manual switch over, sending the room into darkness again. The moment stretched on—then Meriwether said, “I asked you to repeat yourself.”
“I said, yeah, I’ve got a phone. Right here, see?”
“Very impressive. Use it outside in the parking lot.”
Pearl listened as their footsteps left together; there was no way Meriwether could resist seeing him to the door to make sure he obeyed. Sagging against the wall, Pearl waited. A few minutes later, Meriwether’s footsteps passed by again, and the corridor light disappeared from the space beneath the restroom door.
She didn’t poke her head out again until she absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore. There was a faint reddish glow spilling over the floor from the lobby exit sign; everything else was dark and silent. Go time.
In the lobby, the little club was an angular shadow outlined by the streetlamp beyond the front windows. After some fumbling, she found the hidden switch behind the house that turned on the lights, wincing at the brightness. Somebody might see from the road—better work fast.
She moved the furniture around, looking under tables and chairs, taking down paintings, tipping over divans. Nothing behind the curtains, or inside the attic storage boxes. Cupboards, drawers, hutches, all matches or near matches to the real thing, placed exactly so—she shook them, knocked them over in her haste.
Finally, Pearl sat back, gripping her knees, barely resisting the desire to trash the inside for the sheer satisfaction of it. She took the sides of the house in her hands—it was heavy, she could barely manage it—and tilted the entire thing back and forth, shaking it, looking for any confirmation of what she’d seen.
The lights flickered. She shook the house again; another flicker. There was a short somewhere. She reached around and followed the electrical wire that fed into the house; it disappeared under the floor of the ballroom. She leaned into the room as far as she could, running her fingertips over the floor and wall, searching for anything.
The seam in the wallpaper at the far-left corner of the room felt deep; she could fit her fingernails into it. The slice went all the way through the board behind the paper. She continued to pull, waiting to hear a crack, destruction that she’d never be able to repair—but the wall panel came away without much resistance.
She pulled it as far away from the outer wall of the house as she dared, providing a space of about three inches. The house had been hooked up using tape wiring, nearly microscopic brads holding it in place. She couldn’t see well enough into the space to tell much, so she wriggled her fingers in, sliding them up and down the walls.
Something small and metallic lay in the space between. She flicked it, watched it skitter out onto the ballroom floor.
A set of keys. Two identical silver keys on a wire ring, the sort that might come with a padlock. Wedged in there for who knew how long, aggravating the junction splice, causing a short.
Breathless, Pearl grabbed them, stuffed them into her pocket, and began the painstaking task of setting things to rights.
Some of it she could do from memory—she knew the layout of the dining room and surrounding areas by heart, but there were two other floors that she never had any reason to go onto. She ended up putting tea tables and bookshelves back in any random place, anxious to get out of the silence and artificial glow of the little club. Maybe the desk staff would think somebody’s kid got into it earlier in the day and moved things around.
She eased out the front exit, heard the lock click behind her, and ran for the staff parking lot. She was digging for her car keys when a set of headlights flashed on across from her, high, then low.
Her breath caught. The car’s engine started, and it crawled into the spot beside her. Thank God. Reese’s old clunker.
She got into the passenger seat, sighed, and rolled her neck, which felt like it had a couple of steel rods jammed up through it. “Who’d you think I was, the po-po?” he said around a mouthful of candy bar. “Looked like you were passing a stone out there.”
“How’d you get around Meriwether?”
“Pssh. As soon as she knew I couldn’t get back inside to steal the silver or whatever, she took off in her Mini Cooper. So? Find anything?”
She held up the keys, glinting in the dashboard light. “Behind one of the walls.”
Reese swore. “You were right.” A pause. “You think Cassidy put them there?”
“Or Joseph. If this is what Tristan was looking for, he missed the flickering lights. You couldn’t even tell that the wall had been cut into. They must’ve used an X-Acto knife or something.”
He took the keys from her. “Okay. Now riddle me this. What do they go to?”
“Good question. A small lock, obviously. A locker padlock? A diary?”
“Diaries come with locks?”
“Must be a girl thing.” Pearl sat back. “This is too strange. It’s like I was meant to find them.” She shot a look at him. “I know how crazy that sounds.”
Reese shook his head slowly. “I’m not laughing. I think this whole thing is freaky as hell.”
From the corner of her eye, Pearl noticed more clutter in the backseat than usual, and she turned to look at cardboard boxes full of Reese’s things. “You’re moving already?” She looked at him. “Why didn’t you say anything? I didn’t even know you’d signed a lease yet.”
“Everything happened kind of fast.” He crumpled the candy bar wrapper and stuck it in the cup holder, wiping his fingers on his work slacks. “Jovia isn’t thrilled, but she’s being cool about it. She’s helping us hunt down some extra furniture and stuff.”
“Us?”
Reese paused. “Indigo and me.” He didn’t hold her gaze long. “Her roommate’s finally going to move in with her boyfriend. Indigo needs help with the rent, and I need a change. Makes sense.”
Maybe she should’ve seen it coming. Hearing it spoken out loud still felt like falling way, way down into a place with no light. Pearl tried to get her bearings, but her voice sounded odd, unfamiliar, as she said, “I didn’t think you guys were that serious.”
He shrugged, half smiling. “We’re going to give it a shot. Never know until you try, right?”
She was supposed to laugh here, to agree and turn the conversation onto lighter things, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t force another word from her mouth as she sat there, feeling sucker punched, tasting a memory of rum eggnog and humiliation, hearing the whisper everything you hoped for, sweetie? as her eyes burned with tears.
He still held the keys. Pearl took them back, grabbed her bag. “I better get home. Dad will be wondering.” And now she’d just told a lie to Reese, who knew better and made a soft sound.
“Pearl, come on. Don’t run off.”
“I’m not. Thanks. For tonight.” Her voice broke at the end, but she was halfway out the door and hoped he hadn’t caught it. She got into her car, keeping her face averted as she started the engine. She was glad when he left first, so she could sit for a minute and let her vision blur, feel some release before making the drive home through the rows of quiet, sleeping houses.