“Wow. This place is gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
She handed Madison a glass. They clinked.
“Cheers. Let’s sit.”
They walked toward the living area, the judge calling out for the cat. Madison gazed in wonder at the twelve-foot ceilings, magnificent staircase, parquet floors, fireplace with marble mantel, moldings, chandeliers, elegant furniture. The walls were glossy white, hung with bold, colorful art. All on the most expensive street in Boston. Judge Conroy must have family money. But wait, no—she claimed to be from South Boston, daughter of a single mom. Her husband had the money, then. Whatever. It was magnificent. Fit for a queen. This queen.
A black cat came bounding down the stairs. Judge Conroy knelt and scooped her up, kissing the top of her head, apologizing for being away all day.
“She’s so pretty,” Madison said.
“She’s my baby.”
They sat side by side on the sofa, with Lucy purring in the judge’s lap. The judge picked up a clicker and switched on the gas fireplace. As the flames danced, the cat stared at Madison with arresting, sea-green eyes. To be polite, Madison sipped the wine, but she’d had enough to drink. Too much. Her head hurt, and at moments, she heard herself slurring her words. Not to mention that she’d lost track of exactly why she was here.
“Did you say you needed a favor or something?” she asked.
“Yes. It has to do with Lucy.”
Madison reached out to pet the cat, who yowled, an unmistakable warning.
“Hmm, I’m not sure she likes me.”
“She takes a while to warm up to new people. As do I, normally. Yet after our conversation tonight, I sense that I can trust you, Madison. Which is why I asked you here. Would you be able to watch my house this weekend and take care of Lucy? I have to go out of town for work, and my normal pet sitter isn’t available. I hate to leave her alone.”
“You want me to stay here?” Madison said after a moment.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Until tomorrow night, or Sunday morning at the latest. I won’t be any longer than that. And of course, I’d pay you. What do you think? Could you help me out?”
She had a ton of schoolwork. Finals started in less than two weeks. But her laptop was in her backpack, sitting on the bench in the back hall where they’d come in, giving her access to all the assignments. Actually, being in this house with no distractions would be ideal for studying.
But wait, wasn’t there something—
Oh. Mom. Danny. Shit.
Whether from the alcohol or the thrill of having dinner with the woman she admired, her problems had slipped to the back of her mind. She just blanked. Yet those documents from Danny’s case were sitting in her backpack. She was supposed to go with Mom to visit him in the morning and come up with a game plan. And—oh, God, she still needed to tell the judge about that whole mess.
“You look concerned,” Judge Conroy said. “I can show you the rest of the place. It’s very nice.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.”
“Come, let me give you a tour,” the judge said, getting up.
The cat trotted ahead of them as they ascended the grand staircase. Trailing her fingers along the polished mahogany banister, Madison looked up four floors to a skylight far above. A cold rain beat on it now, but on a sunny day, it would fill the house with light. The entire second story turned out to be a single, ultra-luxurious master suite. Madison oohed and aahed at the elegantly appointed bedroom, with an alcove for a canopy bed, a separate seating area with its own fireplace and large bay window facing the street—curtains drawn, though. Gawping, she compared it mentally to her dorm room, with its dingy wall-to-wall carpet and grimy old furniture, so narrow that when she pulled the desk chair out, it bumped into the bed. Quite the contrast. They walked through a door into a fabulous dressing area, with racks of clothes arranged by color, shelves for handbags, cubbies full of expensive shoes, and a vanity table with a makeup mirror. Just beyond, Madison could see a spa-like master bath with marble floors and a glittering chandelier.
“Now, you’re probably thinking, How can I stay the weekend when I didn’t bring clothes? I can answer that. Look.”
Judge Conroy took Madison’s arm and drew her to a full-length mirror.
“Have you noticed that you and I are the same size?” she said.
The observation was odd enough to raise the hackles on Madison’s neck. But it was also true. She thought of the judge as taller, more willowy, certainly more graceful than she’d ever be. But in stocking feet, they were the same height and strikingly similar in shape. Their coloring was different, that was all—Madison dark where the judge was fair. The fairest of them all, with the most beautiful clothes. The thought of having the run of this closet was tantalizing. Yet strange.