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My gran always said, “Be careful what you wish for.” She was wary of excess in all its forms, and her dreams were small and simple. Whenever I’d dream bigger, imagining if we owned a mansion like the Grimthorpes’ or could take a vacation to a far-flung locale, she’d issue her warning—a reminder that fate rarely gives without taking something away.

It’s been a week since the moment I stumbled onto the tearoom stage and learned that the Fabergé was real. My life has changed so dramatically since then and in ways that defy all comprehension. Before my appearance on Hidden Treasures, I really was “just a maid,” but since then I’ve become many things, including a meme, a dance, a party costume, and an array of comedy sketches. A quick scroll through social media reveals babies, celebrities, dogs, cats, and one bearded lizard dressed in my maid’s uniform. The dance in my homage is done on a chair and ends with a move now known as “the Fabergé faint.” And yesterday, a late-night comedy sketch aired with a well-known comedian wearing a black wig, sitting on top of a giant golden egg while clucking, “I’m just a maid!” until the egg exploded into a cloud of fresh bills.

I phoned Angela the second I saw it. “What was that all about?” I asked.

“You haven’t stopped trending,” she said. “?‘I’m just a maid’ is the country’s top catchphrase. You’re outpacing ‘That’s what she said.’?”

“Who is she?” I asked. “And what did she say?” But Angela insisted I was missing the point as usual. Honestly, I don’t want to be trending or in the spotlight at all. These past few days, my only stability has been Juan, who is trying to maintain normalcy though there’s nothing remotely normal about our situation.

After I agreed to auction the egg, Juan and I learned via Steve that a Hidden Treasures film crew was going to follow us around to shoot something called a “sizzle reel.”

“Is a frying pan required?” I asked.

“You’re punking me, right?” Steve replied, but when I stared at him, confused, he said, “It’s a short documentary. Think of it as ‘a day in the life of Molly.’ It’ll air during the live auction episode of Hidden Treasures next week.”

“But what if we don’t want our private lives publicized?” I asked. “It’s already impossible to do our jobs. We’re being followed everywhere.”

“Bit late to back out now,” Steve informed us. “Plus, you signed the waiver, remember? You’re an instant reality TV star, Molly. Aren’t you happy? You’re living the dream.”

Were we living the dream? If we were, neither of us was aware. I glanced over at Juan, who looked as dejected as I felt. Still, how dare we forget to count our blessings. I tried to think positively, to turn my frown upside down. “It’s just another week,” I said to Juan. “We can manage, right?”

“Of course,” he said, grinning along with me. “We’ll make it fun. Like being movie stars.”

“Great,” said Steve as he adjusted his baseball cap. “I’ll get the crew. We’ll start now.”

From that moment on, Steve’s crew became part of our lives, coming and going as they pleased. A few days ago, I was vacuuming a guest room in the hotel when suddenly the crew entered.

“Don’t mind us, Molly,” the assistant director yelled over the high-pitched whir of my vacuum. “Just forget we’re here.”

But it’s hard to forget an entire TV crew when you’re cleaning around their lights and booms and extension cords with hotel guests cheering you on from the doorway. I finished the job only to be told, “We’re going to do another take. Can you do that all again, Molly?”

“I’m going to have to,” I replied, “since you just trampled the perfectly plumped carpet pile.”

Why the crew and lookie-loos laughed at that, I have no idea, but I’m getting used to laughter and baffling comments like “She’s so funny!” and “I just love her!” and “I can’t get enough of Molly the Maid!”

At home, Juan and I have no privacy. On our one day off, when Gran-dad came over for dinner, the three of us had retired to the living room to watch a nature documentary when there was a knock on the door. Juan answered, only to find Steve and the film crew yet again.

“We want to capture a regular day at your apartment,” Steve said. “We’ll be in and out, split.”

Suddenly, the entire crew was in our living room, running cables and setting up cameras.

“Molly, you sit in the middle of the sofa. Mr.Preston, take the spot to her left, Juan to her right. Okay, that’s good. Now, turn on the TV and watch Hidden Treasures. Everyone act normal. And, action!”

Packed like sardines on Gran’s old sofa, we were stiff and catatonic. We tried to “act normal,” but there has been no normal since the discovery of the Fabergé’s worth.

But this was not even the worst of it. Yesterday, Juan and Angela decided to surprise me. “After work,” Juan announced, “you’ve been invited to a very special boutique. Angela’s going with you.”

“A boutique? For what?” I asked.

“Wedding dresses, Molly,” Juan said. “A fancy shop wants to sponsor your dress! Isn’t that amazing?”

“Meaning we don’t have to pay for it?”

“Exactly. You can stop searching charity shops for hand-me-downs.”

“What’s wrong with hand-me-downs? Also, what’s the catch?” Iasked.

“There is no catch,” said Juan. “At least none that I can see.”

After work, Angela met me at the Social, and we sneaked out the back door so as not to be spotted by any Bee-lievers or other guests desperate for a selfie with Molly the Maid. The walk to the bridal shop was such a simple pleasure, ambling down the sidewalk with my friend, being hassled by no one, watched by no one, being relevant to no one.

“There it is,” said Angela when we arrived at Tears of Joy Bridal Shop.

Wedding bells jingle-jangled as Angela held the door open for me. Inside was a pretty shopkeeper in a lovely pink suit, carrying a tray of champagne glasses.

“Molly! Or should we call you Mrs. Molly. We’re so glad you’re here. I’m Carmen,” said the shopkeeper as she passed Angela and me flutes filled with bubbly. “We’ve chosen three dresses that are just right for you. And we’ve got a private room for your fitting.”

“Well, butter me and call me a biscuit,” said Angela as she took in the high-end shop. “Free champagne service? I could get used to this.”

Carmen escorted us to a large room filled with mirrors and floral bouquets. Three gorgeous white gowns hung from a rack by the change room.

“Those gowns can’t possibly be for me,” I said. “They’re fit for a princess.”

“We take pride in every bride,” said Carmen. “The first gown is a mermaid-modern cut, the second is a strapless trumpet style, and the last, a classic bridal ball gown.”

As Angela guzzled champagne on a white satin bench, I ducked into the change room and tried the first gown on. I popped out and presented myself to Angela and Carmen.

“It’s giving Ariel vibes,” Carmen said.

“Exactly. A bit fishy,” said Angela.

I agreed. I ducked back into the change room and put on the strapless gown. Feeling quite self-conscious, I tiptoed out and stood before Angela and Carmen again.

“I love it!” said Carmen. “Sleek and modern, a bit daring and sexy.”

“In other words, not Molly,” Angela said as she crinkled her nose.

“Agreed,” I replied.

“There’s still one more gown,” said Carmen. “Give it a try.”

I returned to the change room and came out a few minutes later.

Angela gasped the second she laid eyes on me. As I looked in the mirror, I knew this was the one—a perfectly fitted, heart-shaped bodice with tulle straps that grazed my shoulders. The skirt was made of layers of billowing white chiffon that went all the way to the floor. It was classic and timeless, like Cinderella’s at the ball, and for the first time in forever, I felt elegant and beautiful.

“Do you think Juan will like it?” I asked Angela.

“Oh, Molly, he’ll love it as much as he loves you. It’s perfect!”

“Are you saying yes to the dress?” Carmen asked.

“I am!” I replied.

In that moment, Carmen pulled a white ribbon hanging from the ceiling. Suddenly, confetti fell upon us while Pachelbel’s Canon in D blared from hidden speakers. Then, out of nowhere, Steve and his film crew spilled into the room.

“What the hell?” said Angela as she leapt to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Capturing Molly’s special moment,” said Steve as a camera was shoved in my face. “Molly, did you just say yes to the dress?”

“I…I did,” I said.

A handful of young ladies—strangers, all of them—entered the room, oohing and cooing at me.

“Pretend they’re your bridesmaids,” Steve instructed as the ladies hugged me, jumping up and down for joy.

I stood stiffly, not knowing what to do.

“More champagne!” Carmen announced as she passed around flutes, shoving one into my reluctant hand.

“Clink glasses with your BFFs!” Steve ordered. I did what I was told, all while looking past the strangers to where Angela sat on the white satin bench.

“Aren’t you happy?” Carmen asked as she put an arm around me and squealed. “You’re overjoyed, right? A blushing bride?”

I could find no words. Not a single one.

“Oh, look! She’s crying!” one of the ladies said as she pointed at my watery eyes.

“This is Tears of Joy Bridal Shop, where we put the pride in bride,” said Carmen as she smiled at the camera.

I looked back at Angela. She was crying, too, her head shaking back and forth in disbelief. “I didn’t know this would happen,” she mouthed from across the room. “Molly, I’m so sorry.”