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texted back quickly, and kept searching for a hiding spot. On the library ladder? No way, much too conspicuous. In the trash can? I stuck it in there. Nobody would notice it. But would we hear anything? I yanked the trash can out so it sat just behind, but between, two of the chairs.
    The door next to the kitchen opened. “Right through here,” I heard Mom say.
    I cursed again, and slapped my hand over my mouth. Then, realizing maybe Quinn would be listening, I said, whispering right into the baby monitor, “I think I’m trapped. Maybe I should just hide behind the desk here.”
    I heard something drop upstairs and then Quinn’s voice yelling, “Allison!”
    I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. Way to play it cool, Quinn . I heard Mom offering a drink to somebody as her heels clicked across the kitchen. I had maybe three seconds.
    As I dashed from the study, I realized I’d have to cross paths with Mom and whoever. I froze for half a second. Ack!
    I turned and squeezed myself behind the column that held a sculpture the decorator had chosen of a hideous fat baby. The thing shimmied. If it crashed, Mom and whoever would obviously see me, cowering behind the column and among the broken pieces of overpriced clay. Please don’t fall, I prayed, despite my atheism. The image of the devil I had dreamed flashed in my mind, and I thought, Trade you one person thinking I’m gorgeous if you keep me invisible this once.
    The thing stopped wobbling. Probably just because it had found its equilibrium.
    I’m not saying the devil interceded.
    Though I did silently say a quick Thank you as my mother and a very tall man with a completely spherical belly preceding him walked right past me and the hideous fat baby without noticing either one of us, and turned to go into the study.
    I didn’t budge until after Dad followed them in, with an uncharacteristically stressed expression on his face. He closed the door behind him, and only then did I sprint silently up the front steps, contemplating my until-then-undiscovered and only gift: I could be a totally great cat burglar!
    “You want to give me a heart attack?” Quinn complained.
    I kissed her cheek. She hates when I do that.
    What we heard was mostly static. We tried my room, which was no better. Phoebe, who wasn’t around because she had track after school, got slightly better reception in her room, but the upstairs den was even better, and, following the signal, we found that the best reception was actually in one of the guest rooms behind the back stairs. We crouched over the night table, trying to hear what they were saying.
    After Fat Man said “…legal ramifications…,” Quinn said, “This is what I was afraid of.”
    “What?”
    “It’s Mom’s lawyer,” Quinn whispered. “Those guys at work totally screwed her.”
    I shook my head, unsure what Quinn was talking about, but not wanting her to know that.
    Fat Man asked something about a paper trail, and Mom said she would get the documents from her files. Quinn sank to the floor.
    “I can’t believe they screwed her like this,” I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.
    “I know it,” Quinn agreed. “It’s a team! They make the decisions on what to invest in together. They’re going to make her seem like a total cowboy. She could get fired.”
    “Fired?” No way, I thought. Mom is a very successful hedge fund manager. She has been on the cover of Working Woman magazine. She’s been in the Wall Street Journal and the Columbia Business School Magazine . She makes a ton of money. She’s one of the Top Women of Wall Street. Fired?
    “Probably not. Hopefully not. She won’t.” Quinn took a steadying breath and whispered, “If she gets fired, it’s all over.”
    We heard the study door close and Mom’s controlled voice saying, “Here’s the time line,” just as the back door opened and Phoebe came in yelling, “What’s going on?”
    “Get her,” Quinn ordered.
    I was