To Have and to Heist(53)

Cristian was the most sociable guy I knew. He was Dad’s best salesman. Whenever I was in the store, it was all about the parties he’d attended, the celebrities he’d met, the crazy nights . . . It was hard to believe Cristian had no friends. Or maybe it wasn’t. We all wear masks. Sometimes they become such a part of us that we forget who we really are.

“It’s not like she’s going to tell him,” I said. “She didn’t strike me as a woman with a death wish.”

“She told me things. About him. He can’t . . .” He waved his hand in a circular motion. “You know . . . perform.”

Some things you don’t want to know so I didn’t ask for details.

“I get it, but she has as much to lose as you. Look at this house. The life these people lead. No offense, but do you think she’s going to give it all up to be with you?”

Cristian bristled. “I’m not that bad. I care about the environment, endangered species, food security, and climate change. I recycle and I’m an ethical consumer. I take public transportation, only drink craft beer, and I don’t eat meat. Just look at my social media. People love me.”

“Of course you’re not awful.” I leaned over the seat to give him an awkward pat on the shoulder. “But you’re also not an insanely wealthy real estate magnate with a 15,000-square-foot mansion and acres of lakeshore property. If she even notices you—which is unlikely because you’ll be ‘the help’—she’ll pretend she’s never met you before. You were a fling, an exciting diversion before she went back to her regular humdrum ‘Wherever are we going to park the new Ferrari?’ life. I’m pretty sure she isn’t going to jump you and drag you up to her bedroom.”

“You don’t know her.” Cristian shook his head. “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

I tried to keep things light with a shrug. “Then you’ll have the perfect excuse to search the bedroom for a safe.”

“You’ve become a hard woman.” His lips curled in a smile. “Criminal life suits you.”

“It suits all of us,” I said. “Now get up and straighten your clothes. I’ve got five bridesmaids for you to meet.”

* * *

◆ ◆ ◆

?I was filling bags with jellybeans and mentally planning the heist on Monday afternoon when Garcia walked into the candy store at Westfield Shopping Mall. It had been a slow day, so I didn’t mind the distraction. My only customers had been a shoplifting toddler and his law-abiding mother, who dragged him back to return a handful of melted chocolate raisins and three dirty hard candies.

“What do you recommend?” Garcia walked along the aisle, inspecting the plastic bins full of treats. We had the tiniest shop in the mall with only two aisles separated by a wall of candy bins and a counter flanked by two barrels filled with toys. Plushies filled shelves along the walls, and boxes with sweet-smelling candies were stacked six feet high behind the counter.

“The peach penguins are my favorite,” I said. “But I also like the cola bottles. If you’re into sours . . .”

“If it’s sour, it’s not candy,” he said. “It defeats the purpose.” He took a small bag of peach penguins from the bin.

“An excellent selection.” I rang up his purchase and added a bonus package of Life Savers to his bag. “I don’t suppose you just happened to be in the shopping mall and by coincidence just wandered into my store . . .” I trailed off, half hoping.

“I have to buy gifts for my twin nieces,” he said. “They’re turning six next weekend. Since I had to shop anyway, I thought it might as well be here where I could drop in and see you.”

“If you keep this up, I might start getting ideas.”

“You and me both.” He smiled. I smiled. We smiled at each other. Damn him for his charm. Double damn him for his power of arrest.

“What can I do for you other than offer you penguins?” I said when the muscles in my cheeks protested the extended joy.

His smile faded. “There was an incident at the InterContinental Chicago the other night. A necklace was stolen at the Summer Garden Charity Ball. I was going through security footage, and I saw you.” He cleared his throat. “You looked stunning, by the way. Breathtaking.”

My smile came back, unwanted and unbidden, and along with it a pair of very heated cheeks. “Thank you.”

“It was hard to process—”

“Because I usually look slovenly and unkempt?” My free hand found my hip. Why did he have to ruin a good compliment by being unable to process the fact that I could look amazing? “Are you used to seeing me in rags and covered in cinders from the fireplace where I have to sleep while my wicked stepmother and stepsisters bounce in their feather beds upstairs?”

A bark of laughter burst from his throat. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you at that type of event.”

“Maybe I go to events like that all the time,” I said, bristling. “Maybe I have a closet full of designer dresses that I only wear once, and when I see someone else with my clutch, I toss it in the trash.”

His voice was quiet, gentle. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know people,” he said. “You’re one of the good ones, Simi. Not many people would do what you did for your friend.”