Page 16 of The Maid's Secret

“No,” I reply.

“Do you hear that?” Brown asks as he cups a hand to his ear. “That’s the sound of a few million dollars circling down the drain.”

The crowd responds with a resounding boo.

“Hold on one minute. Are you Bee-lievers or not?” Beagle asks the crowd. The answer comes in the form of hoots and applause.

“Molly, you are now connected to a pair of appraisers from the most renowned auction house the entire world over. When it comes to the mystery of long-lost art, Beagle and I are master sleuths. But the question is: DoyouBee-lieve in us?” Brown asks as his blue eyes meet mine.

I have no idea what to believe, and all I really want is to get off this stage and out of the limelight as quickly as possible, but out of good grace, I repeat the familiar TV tagline I’m supposed to say: “I Bee-lieve in you.”

“Then we’ll start our provenance inquiry with Jenkins the gardener,” says Beagle.

“I do hope he isn’t ‘very dead’ like Grimthorpe and your gran,” Brown says, a quip met with guffaws from the crowd.

“He’s very much alive,” I reply.

“Then we’ll get cracking.”

“Literally or figuratively?” I ask as the crowd cheers me on.

“Bless your little black bob,” says Brown. “Bee-lievers, you’ve just met Molly Gray—maid, marvel, and millionaire. I promise you haven’t seen the last of her. Let’s give Molly a hearty round of applause!”

The crowd rises to their feet, clapping and whistling so loudly I block my ears to quell the din. Steve bounds onto the platform, grabs my arm, and whisks me off, guiding me through the paneled door leading to the greenroom.

It isn’t long before the two hosts are backstage with me, Beagle cradling the egg in his two tiny hands. “Molly, you were amazing!” he says.

Brown approaches, hovering over me. “The crowd gobbled you up.”

“You’re a star,” says Steve with a tip of his ironic ball cap. “We just aired a quick clip on our socials, and it’s going viral already. My AD is fielding calls from all over the country. People want more Molly—and fast.”

“What?” I say. “What does that mean?”

“You’re made for TV,” says Steve. “We’ll edit the show overnight and air it tomorrow.”

“But don’t we have more to appraise?” asks Beagle.

“No one brought anything nearly as good as Molly did, so we’ll shoot the b-roll letdowns, then start researching the Fabergé’s provenance ASAP.”

Beagle and Brown nod as Steve exits through the paneled door, letting Juan Manuel, Mr.Preston, and Angela in as he goes. I can’t recall a time I’ve been more relieved to see the faces of my loved ones.

Juan rushes over, pulling me into a warm hug.

“Molly!” says Gran-dad when Juan releases me. “Are you all right?”

“You’ve got it made, maid! Get it?” Angela squeals as she grabs my arms.

“I get it,” I say. “A pun. But what I don’t get is what happens now. Am I truly…you know…”

“Wealthy beyond your wildest dreams?” Angela suggests.

“Yes,” I say. “That.”

Beagle draws nearer, still holding the treasure in his palms. “Molly, much will depend on the provenance of this piece and what you want to do with it. But I assure you this egg is incredibly valuable.”

“Most people sell their works,” says Brown, “and if you opt for that, I assure you that Brown & Beagle Auction House will get the highest price possible.”

“But don’t I have to prove the egg is mine?” I ask.