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Michael
    were always sailing or taking flying lessons or shopping, and when they came to Felix and Leni's for dinner Laura had either left for the day or was working in the kitchen while the maids served.
    "You could serve," Rosa said, studying her. "You're not bad looking, you're quick and neat, yoU have a nice smile which you don't use often enough and if someone asked you to do something, you'd remember it. What a memory you have! I told Leni you'd memorized everything in the kitchen in one day; never have I seen such a memory, I told her."
    Laura flushed and turned away, striking her elbow against the table. "Shit," she muttered, nursing it.
    "But you're not ready," Rosa went on. "You need to be smoothed out. A real lady doesn't use vulgarity, my young miss. A real lady doesn't have a temper, either, and I've seen signs of one in you. And you have a lot to learn. You'll find this family is very big on form, and you don't know which side to serve or take a plate from, or how to bring somebody a clean knife, or when to refill a water glass. It's a wonder to me those people wrote those fabulous letters about you, unless of course they just liked your smile."
    Laura flushed again and concentrated on slicing red peppers. "I didn't serve; I worked in kitchens."
    "My eye," Rosa said pleasantly. "You never worked in a kitchen, my little Laura, not a decent one, anyway, unless it was to wash dishes and scrub the floor." She watched Laura's face. "You needn't worry, I'm not about to tell anyone, or ask questions, either. I've been there myself, you know, a long time ago: poor and hungry and willing to do any job people would give me. I'm sure you worked hard for those people; I'm sure they liked you and that's why they wrote those letters. You'll find I'm very big on instincts, and my instinct says I trust you."
    Laura's hand slipped and the blade slashed her finger. "Danm it!" she cried, slamming the knife on the counter. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted to curl up inside the circle of Rosa's plump arms; she wanted to tell her how wonderful it was to be in her warm kitchen with her warm voice and her trust. But she had to hold it all back, just as she had to keep her distance from Leni and Allison. She couldn't return Rosa's

    Inheritance
    trust, she couldn*t let herself like anyone in this family, she couldn't let down her guard.
    She was there to rob them. And she couldn't ever let herself forget it.
    The hallway was silent and cool and her feet slid silently on the hardwood floor as she opened doors for a quick survey, then closed them to go on to the next room. She had already sketched the first floor: Owen's house, at one end, was a blank, since she'd never been inside, but she had drawn the kitchen at the other end, and the hill width of the house stretching between them, with a long porch in front and the wide glassed-in gallery along the back, opening onto the living room, den and dining room.
    Now, for the first time, she was on the second floor. Guest rooms across the back of the house, each with its own bath; Allison's suite along the whole east side — bigger than our apartment in New York — then Felix's office, bedroom, dressing room and bath, then Leni's sitting room, dressing room and bath, and her bedroom on the west side.
    That was the one she wanted. Silently she opened the bedroom door and slipped inside, taking in with a swift glance the seafoam and ivory colors, ivory shag rugs on gleaming hardwood floors, the bed in the next room draped in seafoam silk and ivory lace. The rooms were cool and serene, like Leni. Laura thought of what it would be like to come to a mother in rooms like these, and curl up and talk about the things she worried about.
    Well, I never will, that's all. And it doesn't matter; fve outgrown that.
    She had to hurry. She surveyed the spacious rooms with a more calculating eye. Sitting room desk, coffee table and ar-moire—all of them with drawers. In the bedroom and adjoining dressing