Long Way Home, CWrpf, JA/JP, 1/3

[topaz119]

Part One

June, 1997

The thing was, being in the foster care system wasn't nearly as bad as everyone always made it out to be. Jared had his boys, and he had a place to flop, and in a couple of weeks, he was going to be old enough to ditch school, which meant that he could probably lose this latest group home without anybody much caring.

LA wasn't a bad place to be, either--he could have ended up on his own in a lot of cities that didn't have half as much to do. Plus, there was always somebody who needed an extra pair of hands to park cars or hand out flyers, cash on the line and no questions asked, so he could usually manage to keep some money around for the little emergencies in life. So, yeah, life was pretty okay, at least until he let himself into the apartment, and saw the guy, all sharp-cut suit and shaved head and big smile, but topped by the flat, cold eyes of a con man. Before Jared could do more than take a step back toward the door, somebody grabbed him from behind and Cue Ball got right up into his personal space.

"Hey," Jared yelled, not because he expected anyone to help--Barbara, the overnight relief social worker was sitting in the kitchen and Cue Ball and friend were clearly in the place by invitation--but more to let the guy know Jared wasn't the type who was going to roll over and go quietly. A lot of the time, just making noise was enough to get the creeps to stay away. There were always kids who were too scared to even do that much, and Jared was sorry for them, and sorry about all the jerks he'd personally dumped on them, but you had to take care of yourself out in the world. Jared looked out for as many people as he could, but he couldn't save everyone.

"Relax, kid," Cue Ball said, which, yeah, sure, like Jared was going to listen to him. He reached for Jared, but instead of anything really skeevy, he pushed back the hair that always fell down into Jared's eyes, and looked for the scar along Jared's hairline like he knew it'd be there. "Yeah," he said to the guy holding Jared. "That's one."

Jared jerked his head away and managed to bang it into the forehead of whatever goon was holding him from behind. If he'd had any kind of luck, that would have been enough to get him free, at least enough that he could have gone out the window and onto the fire escape. Chad couldn't have gotten too far away and he'd at least give Jared some place to hide out until these guys gave up and found somebody else to play with. Of course, he didn't have even close to that kind of luck, so all that ended up happening was that he saw stars and Cue Ball rolled his eyes and stuck his hand down the stretched-out collar of Jared's t-shirt. He pulled it half-off Jared's shoulder and grunted with satisfaction when he saw the other scar, the one that danced across Jared's shoulder and down his back.

"Where'd you get those scars, kid?" The look on his face told Jared that he didn't care if he smacked Jared around to get answers, but he jerked his head and the goon friend let Jared go. "I'm pretty sure you're not deaf, and I know you can talk, so answer my fucking question."

Jared shrugged. "Dunno. I've always had them."

"Good answer." Cue Ball pulled an envelope out of his pocket and turned to drop it on the kitchen table. "Remember it, and this whole thing is gonna be a snap."

"What whole thing?" Jared stared as Barbara, who'd always been such a pushover, picked up the envelope and started counting the money inside it. "Wait a second, what's go--"

"Shut up, kid," Cue Ball said. He pointed to a garbage bag sitting by the front door. "Your stuff's all ready to go, and you and me, we're gonna take a little ride."

He shoved Jared toward the door, kicking the bag after him. Jared took a deep breath, but before he could start yelling, loud enough to maybe get some of the neighbors to call the cops and complain, Cue Ball said, low and easy, "Quietly. You and me are taking a ride, quietly, or that pretty little rentboy you hang with isn't going to make it through his next trick."

Jared froze. Chad was a good guy for all his attitude, and yeah, he turned tricks at night, but when he was awake during the day, he never minded Jared hanging around, playing with the mangy dog that always seemed to follow at his heels. He was streetwise and nobody's fool, but Jared knew how easy it would be for him to get in some john's car and never come back. Nobody would even blink.

"I got a proposition for you, but I don't need any extra interest in all this, so quietly is the operative word here, and I don't give a fuck what I need to do to get it." Cue Ball looked right at him, and Jared read the truth in his eyes. "Waitin' on you, kid."

Jared swallowed hard, jerking away from him and picking up the trash bag. "Thanks for nothing," he said to Barbara. "Hope whatever he paid you was worth it."

"She was pretty cheap," Cue Ball said, as he crowded Jared down the stairs. "But that's more a reflection on her than you, so don't feel too bad, kid."

Jared kept his mouth shut and got into the back of the SUV Cue Ball pointed him to, crawling across the seat to get as far away as he could. The other goon got in the driver's seat, starting the car and pulling out of the alley without a word. Jared stared out of the window and tried to keep from totally freaking out. He might only be 15, but he'd been on his own for as long as he could remember, moving between foster homes and group homes and one nasty stint in Juvie; he could keep it together long enough to deal with these guys and get back to warn Chad. He focused on paying attention to where they were going so he had a prayer of getting back to where he knew the best places to disappear for a couple of weeks were.

He tensed up when GoonFace pulled onto a freeway--surface streets he could deal with, but he hated the freeways and had never figured out how they fit together--and Cue Ball laughed.

"I'll make you a deal, kid. You shut up and do your part and I'll personally make sure you get back to your rentboy."

"I'm here." Jared kept looking out the window and didn't bother with the explanation that he and Chad were friends. Nobody ever believed them, and he really didn't care what these guys thought as long as nobody got hurt. "You keep talking about a deal, so what is it?"

"Not just yet," Cue Ball said.

"Yeah," Jared snorted. "That's what I thought."

"Oh, there's a deal, kid, and it'll get you more than you've ever dreamed of."

"What? You're going to make me a star?" Jared smiled, as innocently as possible. "You got investors who like 'em young?"

"Not likely." Cue Ball laughed. "If I was after a twink, I'd have gone for your friend with the pretty mouth. I'll bet he wouldn't be giving me half the trouble you are." He leaned back in the seat and looked Jared up and down. "No, I need you, and I'm willing to cut you in, but you need to watch that mouth because there's nothing that says I have to keep you healthy after the job's done."

As threats went, it was fairly uninteresting; Jared didn't bother to even blink. The rest of it was good, at least for right now. If Cue Ball needed him, Jared had at least a little breathing room.

"You got a name?" Jared returned Cue Ball's look, letting his eyes sweep over him, from the top of his shaved head right down to the fancy leather loafers Jared knew were knock-offs. "Or should I go on and call you Cue Ball to your face?"

Cue Ball laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Michael," he said. "Mr. Rosenbaum to you, kid."

"Whatever you say," Jared said, settling back in the seat and smirking. Cue ball, he added in his head.

***

The hotel they pulled up to was nice, way nicer than anyplace Jared had ever been, with a guy who came out and opened the door, and another one who slid into the driver's seat after GoonFace got out, and drove the car off to park it. They all looked at Jared the same way, though: like he wasn't worth the time to sneer at. Rosenbaum said something low to the driver and then got Jared moving through lobby, keeping him close like he was afraid Jared might bolt, and turning down the first elevator because it already had people in it.

The room they went into turned out to be cramped and not all that impressive; Jared was weirdly disappointed. After the big show in the lobby, he was expecting something other than a view of the parking lot and freeway and a bunch of cheap furniture that didn't look any better than what they had at the group home.

"First things first." Rosenbaum pointed toward the bathroom. "There's a shower in there, and I'm going to assume you know how to use it, despite all evidence to the contrary."

Jared gave him his best glare, but there had been eight kids at the group home and one pretty disgusting bathroom, so he hadn't spent any more time than was absolutely necessary in the shower for a couple of months. He was pretty sure that even with the disappointing room there would be enough hot water to get really clean, and he didn't care how soft it made him sound; he was actually looking forward to it.

"Here," Rosenbaum said, pulling a bag out of the closet. "You're skinnier than I thought, but there's a belt in there. If the rest of your stuff looks like what you're wearing, we're better off burning it."

Jared slammed the door behind him and pushed the little button on the knob in to lock it. Rosenbaum laughed. Jared knew the stupid thing could be opened with a bobby pin, but it felt better to have even that little bit of privacy. The bathroom itself was old and kind of ugly with its green and gold tiles, but the water that gushed out of the showerhead steamed up the room almost instantly and there were four--clean--towels on a rack. The little bottle of shampoo smelled like flowers, but not even that could come close to killing Jared's enjoyment of everything else.

He stayed under the water until his fingers were all prune-y and the rest of him felt half-boiled, but no one tried to come in, or even knock. When he got out and investigated the contents of the bag Rosenbaum had given him, he found a comb and a toothbrush, as well as a razor and some shaving cream and the clothes. The razor was still pretty unnecessary, and the clothes were really dumb-looking, but the toothbrush was new and not broken down and even if the clothes were khakis and a shirt like prep school kids on TV wore, they were clean and they fit reasonably well. He combed his hair back out of his eyes and brushed his teeth a second time and thought about shaving, even if it wasn't necessary, but then Rosenbaum called, "Enough, princess. Come on and get your ass out here."

There was another person in the room when Jared opened the door--another guy, not GoonFace, dressed more like Rosenbaum, in cheap versions of designer clothes. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes that were as cold and flat as Rosenbaum's. He looked hard at Jared and nodded slowly.

"Yeah," New Guy said. "The son-in-law was a tall son-of-a-bitch, and the coloring is pretty good." He started over toward Jared. "You said the scars were right, too?"

"Yeah, he did." Jared jerked away before New Guy could go through the whole routine with the dumb scars he'd had since forever. "I got one on my head and one on my back and shoulder and I'd really appreciate it if somebody would start telling me why the fuck they're such a big deal."

"Watch the attitude, kid," Rosenbaum said, mildly. He pointed to a cart that had covered plates on it. "Give your mouth something to do besides yap at me and I'll tell you why your precious scars are so important."

Jared sat in the straight-backed desk chair and started in on the cheeseburger and soggy fries and listened hard.

"Twelve years ago, there was this big smash-up out on the freeway. Fifteen, twenty cars all piled up into each other and it takes the cops forever and a day to sort out who everybody is. Now, it turns out that the daughter of the Marchioness of Candleshoe and her husband and their kid were in one of the cars. They don't make it, the daughter and her husband, and first the cops thought the kid was dead, too--they had a body and all, but then there was this big stink and it turns out the body they thought went with those two was actually somebody else. The kid we care about--nobody knows nothin' about him. A little boy, four years old, and the apple of his grandma's eye, and he's gone. The old lady hired a dozen detectives, had them running around for months, but they never found him."

"My scars?" Jared pretended to be bored, but he thought he knew where these guys were going, and he was right, they were con men. It made him relax a little.

"See, that's where it gets interesting," Rosenbaum said, grinning. "Seems little Tristan was a real bundle of energy, and even though he was only four, he'd already taken a header out of a tree and had to have a couple of stitches, and he'd gotten himself hung up crawling under a hedge with briars and did a number on his shoulder, too."

"Nice," Jared said. "And old lady, she's going to fall all over me just because I've got scars in the right place? Why won't she do like on Jerry Springer, when some chick sleeps around and gets pregnant and they do a test to see who the father is?"

"DNA testing," New Guy said. "And she will, she's a smart old dame, but here's the thing: DNA testing doesn't work so good grandmother to grandson. She could get in touch with the husband's family, get somebody from there to give a sample, but he was American, and that'll take a little time."

"And that's all we need," Rosenbaum said. "A little time. It's an interesting family, the St. Edmunds. Her family, not the Candleshoe side. They're boring as fuck, but the old lady's great-great-grandfather, he was a traveler. Sea captain. Went all over the world and brought back all kinds of crap they still have sitting out all over the place. But they say he hid away his biggest treasure, kept it from the rest of the family until he could figure out how not to pay taxes on it."

"Only he died before he could do anything," New Guy said.

"Yeah? That's too bad," Jared said. "Who's this guy anyway?" he asked Rosenbaum.

"This is Tommy," Rosenbaum said. "He's the reason you're not gonna get thrown out on your ass five seconds after the old lady meets you, so shut up and listen."

"I worked there, for a while. Her estate. Helped keep her cars running and did whatever else they needed, until that bastard Morgan decided he didn't need anybody showing him up and fired me."

"What he means is that the guy who runs the place for the old lady caught him fencing everything that wasn't nailed down and threw him out so hard he bounced on the way."

The two of them glared at each other. Jared shrugged and kept eating. The cheeseburger was pretty average, but it was food and you didn't leave anything on your plate. First rule of keeping yourself going when nobody gave a shit about you.

After a couple of minutes, the Tommy guy got over his snit fit and said, "Two things. Tristan, the kid that got lost, he and his mom spent summers at the old lady's house. So I saw him around. It's how we know about the scars. You'd have thought the kid was going to bleed out with all the fussing that went on."

"That's one," Jared said, with his mouth still full. It was hilarious the faces the other two guys made, like they were so into manners and shit while they were talking about pulling a con on some old lady.

"Two is that before I left, I found this note. It was stuck down in an old trunk that had been moved out into the garage." He waved a piece of old paper at Jared, and all Jared could see was that it was covered with old-timey-looking writing, like in pictures of the Declaration of Independence in textbooks.

"Uh, good for you?"

Rosenbaum snorted with laughter, but he smacked the back of Jared's head hard enough to let him know he was skating a little too close to the edge. "Yeah, good for all of us, because it's from the old sea captain's journal."

"And it was wrapped around these." Tommy dropped a couple of big, gold coins on the table, and Jared couldn't look away because they were really gold. Not just the color gold, but gold, like in…

"Buried treasure." Jared grinned, and almost forgot he was sitting with a couple of guys who'd already dragged him out of his (admittedly lame) home and threatened his friends, because seriously, buried treasure?

"Right in one." Rosenbaum smiled. It almost looked like a normal, human emotion; Jared wasn't surprised it was tied to money. "The journal, it had this one page about the old guy's stash and then said, For the sunrise student, there is treasure among books."

Jared snorted and Rosenbaum shrugged. "Yeah, okay, it doesn't make much sense, except we figure it could mean there's more in the library at the house."

"Oh, I get it. That's why you need me," Jared said. "That's why you don't care if the old lady eventually figures out I'm not her grandkid. You just want me on the inside long enough to do some poking around, because Tommy-boy over there got run out of town before he could find out anything more."

"You get in, you get the gold, and you get out," Rosenbaum said. "Simple."

"Yeah? What's in it for me?"

"Aside from me not dumping you out of a moving car?" Rosenbaum asked. "I'll be generous and give you five percent."

"Yeah, right," Jared said. "Fifty-fifty."

"You got nerve, kid." Rosenbaum grinned again. It still didn't get near his eyes. "Lucky for you, I like that in somebody who works for me. I'll give you ten."

"You need me more than I need you," Jared said. "You don't have me; you don't have anybody on the inside. Sixty-forty."

"Let's be real clear about this," Rosenbaum said, coming to his feet in one smooth motion and fisting his hand in the front of Jared's shirt. He wasn't quite as tall as Jared, but he was heavier, solid where Jared was still skinny and lanky. He dragged Jared to his feet and shook him once, hard enough that Jared's head bounced off the wall behind him. "I don't need you. It makes it a little easier to get on the old lady's property, but I can always go and get somebody to work for her. You do what I tell you and take the fucking money I give you and nobody winds up in a dumpster anywhere." He shook Jared again. "You got that?"

"Yeah," Jared gritted out, blinking hard to clear his head. "I got it."

"Good." Rosenbaum let go of Jared, shoving him back, and stepped over to the mirror. He smoothed out his clothes, straightening his cuffs and adjusting his jacket. "Finish your goddamned dinner and let's get this thing started."

***

Things moved pretty fast after that. Rosenbaum had a letter all ready to send to the old lady's attorney; he took Jared's picture and added that, and sent it overnight to London. Jared didn't think he expected to be contacted two days later, but apparently the old lady wanted to see them, pronto. Tommy's reaction was pretty interesting, Jared thought, as though he hadn't expected the letter to work. It lit a fire under them though, enough that Rosenbaum sprang for some high-end agency that dealt with passports to get Jared one practically overnight. Whatever Rosenbaum had paid Barbara, it was enough that he had all the paperwork that let him do all that. They were on a plane to London a couple of days after that, not much more than a week after Jared had come home to find Rosenbaum waiting for him.

Tommy was a prissy pain-in-the-ass, and he was full of useless trivia, like what Tristan's favorite stuffed animal was, like it was going to be a deal-breaker if Jared couldn't remember that after twelve years. He did manage to come up with a couple important bits of information, like the detail that Tristan had been allergic to strawberries. He also sketched out some fireplace that had a secret compartment in it, something that the kid had been crazy about--which Jared couldn't say as he blamed him, because secret compartments were just cool, especially when you were only four years old. There was more, stuff about a music box and composers that Jared barely paid any attention to, because again, who would really expect him to remember crap like that?

Tommy whined about Jared's not listening until Rosenbaum got in on it, but he wasn't hitting Jared hard enough to really scare him, so Jared pretended like he'd learned his lesson and got through all the stupid details well enough that they left him alone. No matter how tough a game Rosy talked, Jared figured they really did need him. If it'd be so easy to get somebody on the inside, they'd have done it years ago. That still didn't mean Jared needed any more grief in his life, though.

The hotel they were staying at in London was pretty much like the one in LA--fancy on the outside, but nothing special once you got in it. On the second day they were there, Tommy took Jared out and bought him some clothes. Between how tall Jared had gotten and how skinny he still was, it was next to impossible to find stuff that fit him, but the old guy at the shop fiddled with the one suit that wasn't a joke. When he was done, Jared still felt like an idiot, but at least the pants were long enough and his bony wrists weren't totally hanging out of the sleeves.

They were set to have tea with the old lady at her house a couple of days after they got to London, but it was only Jared and Rosenbaum driving there. Tommy wasn't getting any closer than he had to, and Jared didn't think it was just because him getting recognized would blow the whole deal before it ever started. He was used to paying attention to people, their faces and body language--sometimes that gave you enough of a head start to get out of the line of fire when some foster home was falling apart around you--and everything he was seeing said that Tommy was afraid. Jared filed that away, that the guy who ran the place could be pretty scary, and that the lady who owned it paid him to be that way. If all this went to hell, Jared was under no illusion that Rosenbaum was going to save his ass. He was on his own. Like always.

The car they'd rented was ridiculously tiny, like some kind of a toy. Jared barely fit, even with the seat pushed all the way back, and Rosenbaum swore the whole time they were driving. They got to the village okay--Jared still couldn't get over a country that had villages, instead of, y'know, cities--but then they got good and lost. Rosenbaum got madder and madder, and there was no place to hide, so Jared kept his mouth shut and ran through the list of crap Tommy had told him about the lost kid until they managed to get back on the right road and make the final turn to the old lady's house.

The driveway was long and twisty, with trees and hedges and shrubs everywhere. Jared had been on actual streets that were shorter, but they finally came around one final bend in the road and saw the house. It was big, of course, and pretty fancy, with lots of chimneys and windows, three stories and a wing that jutted off one side, but it had a homey look, too. The shrubs and bushes around it were all neatly trimmed and the grass was perfect, but there were flowers planted everywhere and around one corner, Jared could just see the edge of a pond. It had a willow tree planted on the banks, with a bench next to it. It looked like a really nice place to sit, away from everybody, nice and peaceful.

Rosenbaum pulled up to the front door and turned off the engine with a final grinding of gears, and Jared was out of the car almost before it stopped, his knees cracking as he stretched. Rosenbaum followed almost as quickly.

"You remember everything Tommy told you?" Rosy kept his voice low, but Jared heard the threat in it. "You watch the attitude. We're only going to get one shot at this."

"I got it," Jared answered, quietly, because it was real now. Rosy might be a con man, but he was right. Jared was only going to get one chance at this and if he screwed up, he was on the other side of an ocean from anyone who might be able to help him. The two of them walked up the steps to the big front door. It was wood, carved in panels and it had a giant metal door knocker on it that boomed like a cannon shot when Rosy let it fall.

The door opened fast enough that Jared was pretty sure they'd been waiting and watching for the car. The guy who opened it didn't look old enough to have been the guy who'd run Tommy off, but he definitely looked at Rosy like he'd be happy to do it right then and there. His eyes swept over Jared, quick and assessing. Jared did his best to look like he was just some dumb kid, someone who never dreamed of pretending to be someone he wasn't.

Rosy went through his song and dance, how he was Michael Rosenbaum, Esquire, and he had an appointment with the Marchioness. Jared barely managed not to roll his eyes; Morgan's eyes flickered to Jared once, before he turned and led the way into the house.

"The Dowager Marchioness is expecting you," he said, with the slightest emphasis on the Dowager part, the perfect amount to point out that Rosy had made some kind of a mistake. Jared kept a straight face as though he hadn't noticed anything, but inside, he was pretty much loving the way Rosy flushed at the dig.

They went into a room that faced out onto a garden, big floor-to-ceiling windows along the outside wall with doors that led out onto a gravel path. The furniture was big, too; a couple of couches and some chairs, all covered with a flowered print that had faded a little in the sun. There was a big crystal chandelier and lots of little tables. It was a nice room, sunny and welcoming, but Jared knew instantly why they were there. The fireplace that took up most of one wall was the one that Tommy had described to him. Jared pretended not to notice it, which was easy, because there was a mound of food on one of the tables, and just looking at it made him hungry.

He and Rosy were alone in the room long enough for Rosy to glare at him and remind him to watch the attitude, and then the old lady was there.

"Mr. Rosenbaum." She really was old, but she moved easily and didn't need a cane or anything. She was tiny--Jared thought she probably didn't even get much past his ribs--and had snow-white hair put up into a bun, only instead of looking like some boring old librarian, it made her look like she was wearing a crown. Jared tried not to stare, but he got the feeling she was doing the same thing with him. "Thank you for coming, and so quickly. There have been so very many people who have claimed to have found my grandson that I've found it best to take care of things as speedily as possible. You understand that there is no reward for my grandson's return."

"Yes, your ladyship. It would be reward enough to see your family restored."

Jared did roll his eyes at that piece of bullshit, but he had his head down, so he didn't think anyone noticed.

"Now, child, let me look at you." Her voice was kind when she turned to Jared, and her eyes were a soft, faded blue, but still sharp and intelligent when he met them. "You're called Jared?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jared answered, hoping like hell she wasn't going to start with the Tristan stuff because there was no way in hell he was going to remember to answer to that.

"You're quite tall already, and not done growing yet, I don't think."

"I've always been tall," Jared told her. "Even when I was a kid, but it's kind of getting ridiculous lately."

She smiled and looked at him for a long time, as though she was trying to see how he might be her family. "Come," she said, finally. "Sit down and we'll have some tea, and chat for a bit."

She settled herself in one of the big wingback chairs and started pouring out of a huge silver teapot. Jared really didn't care about the tea, but she passed him a plate piled with biscuits and sandwiches and cookies and Jared wasn't sure what else, so that was pretty good. Rosy started into the whole story about how he was a private investigator, looking for a runaway when he came across Jared's file with the California Department of Child Welfare, and thought of how Jared's case fit with her grandson's case.

That part wasn't bad, Jared thought, but then Rosy started going off on how he'd always been fascinated by the case, and if he didn't shut up soon, Jared wasn't going to get the chance to charm the old lady because she was going to throw them out right then and there.

Jared thought he might have been mistaken about the fireplace, like maybe it was coincidence, but when the old lady broke off her conversation with Rosy to offer Jared some strawberries to eat with the biscuit-y things she called scones, Jared knew for sure it was a test.

"They smell really good," he told her--and they did, sweet and ripe and mouth-watering. "But I can't eat them. I break out in hives. Sorry."

She murmured something about it being quite all right, and Jared decided it was time to start the act. He glanced at the fireplace and let his eyes linger there just a little too long before he turned back to the conversation.

"The file Mr. Rosenbaum sent me said that you were placed in the state's custody over eleven years ago."

Jared shrugged. "I don't remember anything, really. I've always been in foster homes." That much was the truth. "I know they said in my file that I didn't talk much, even though I was like, four or five when I went to my first foster parents, but I don't know why or anything."

He looked at the fireplace again, and then asked for more of the sandwiches. They were pretty tasty for being little things with unidentifiable green stuff in them. Jared could have easily eaten two at a time, but he did his best to be polite and not stuff his face. Rosy was giving her the big speech about Jared's scars, so Jared pushed his hair back and showed her that one, and told her about the one on the back of his shoulder.

"I don't remember how I got them," Jared said, again truthfully. It shouldn't have been so hard to look at the old lady. "I've had them as long as I can remember."

"Does any of this look familiar?" she finally asked, and that was the opening Jared had been waiting for. He took a deep breath and settled his nerves. This was what he needed to do.

"No, not really," Jared said, and tried not to crack up at Rosy choking on his tea. "You seem really nice, but honestly, I don't think I'm your grandson. This guy grabbed me the other week and told me how I was this long-lost kid, and I thought, y'know, it'd be cool to take a trip to England and all. Kids like me don't usually get to go anywhere."

"Well," she said, and she actually sounded disappointed, not like she was relieved not to have to claim some street kid as her family. "I appreciate your candor, young man. I have to ask you, though, why you keep looking at my fireplace."

"Oh," Jared said, and kept his face calm as he set the hook. He hoped like hell Rosy kept his grip on things. "It's pretty cool, and it looks like something I must have seen in a movie once. I mean, trust me, group homes in LA don't have anything like that. The one it reminds me of, it had a secret compartment. I remember thinking that was the coolest thing ever, you know?"

"Really," she said. "I quite agree--secret compartments are very exciting. In the one you saw, do you remember where the compartment was?"

"It was kind of, over on the side?" Jared said, putting down his plate and going up to the fireplace. "Like, over here." He waved toward the carved mantel. "And, there were things like this--" He touched the carved flowers, roses, Tommy had said, and the fourth one in was the lock spring. "And if you knew the right one to touch, the secret compartment opened." He rubbed his thumb over the fourth rose, but that felt off, somehow. It wasn't the center one of the roses, and it felt like the latch should be more symmetrical. He moved to the fifth rose, the one that was dead-center, and then pushed against it sharply. There was a second when nothing happened, but then the center of the flower depressed with a click, and a small section of the paneling slid open.

Jared stared at it, half relieved, half shocked that it actually had worked. He wasn't faking how his voice shook when he said, "Like that."

"My dear," the old lady said, in this breathless voice. "Come sit down again and have something more to eat." She filled his plate again and then turned to Rosy. "Mr. Rosenbaum, I think we need to discuss some legal matters."

They went down to the other end of the room where there was a fancy, carved desk, and Jared sat and stared at the fireplace.

***

Jared thought him not having any clothes packed up was a nice touch. It made it seem like he'd been telling the truth when he'd said that he didn't think he was the lost kid, a small drop toward evening out the scale that Rosy's innate smarm weighed down. It was all good, except for how it left him with nothing to wear but the stupid suit.

The marchioness was firm in insisting that Jared not leave, and equally firm in ushering Rosy out the door, so that he could send Jared's "effects" along. Jared wasn't sure how she did it, because she was so small, and so polite, but Rosy never got him alone after Jared found the secret compartment. He had to settle for meaningful looks and a promise to "look in on Jared and see how he was settling in" at some later date. Jared nodded and smiled and assured his "friend" that he'd be fine and he couldn't wait to start exploring the house.

Rosenbaum managed to get in one last "you'd better" glare, but then he was gone, the stupid little car trundling down the long driveway, and Jared was alone in a strange place--which, after all, was pretty much the story of his life. He let her show him the room he was going to be staying in and didn't have to fake anything when he said how nice it was. Compared to, oh, every other place he'd ever lived, it was awesome, starting with how it was all for him.

"It's a little old-fashioned," she said, smoothing back the heavy curtains. "But I hate change. I'm very set in my ways. Everyone will tell you that."

It was old-fashioned, with a big, heavy wooden bed, and an equally heavy desk in front of the window. Jared could see the pond from the window, the one with the willow and the bench, and beyond that there were open fields and a blue, blue sky. The covers on the bed, and the curtains, and the rugs on the floor reminded him of the room he'd been in downstairs, faded and soft-looking.

"It fits, though," he murmured. "Like, this room looks like it should be in this house." He shrugged, a little embarrassed, but she only smiled at him. "Um, what should I call you? I don't really even know what a marchioness is," he stumbled on the pronunciation, "let alone what's polite."

"A marchioness--" she said it softly, martian-ess "--is the wife of a marquess. That's not quite as high as a duke, but higher than an earl. And I am the Dowager Marchioness of Candleshoe, which means I was the wife of the previous Marquess."

"So... who's the Mar--the guy now?" Jared didn't really care, but it gave him something to talk about, and getting in good in a new place made everything easier, even if he wasn't trying to throw off any suspicion. "Your son? Is that how it works?"

"Well, yes, but it's my stepson who is the eighth Marquess." She smiled. "I was the second wife and wicked stepmother, very much younger than David, my husband. Hardly older than his sons."

Jared looked at her, really looked, and thought about what she might have looked like a long time ago. "Yeah? I'll bet you were a stone fox in your day."

Unexpectedly, she laughed, waving her hand a little and saying, "Oh, my dear, how terribly kind of you. I had my good points--" She patted her hair, which was thick and pure white, like it might have been one of them. "But for the most part I was a complete hoyden; deeply unsuited to society. My mother and sisters were resigned to my spinsterhood, and then, off I went, eloping with a marquess nearly twice my age when I should have been settling in to be the dotty old auntie. It was quite the scandal." She laughed again, and Jared couldn't help it, he had to laugh, too. She sounded so smug about it all. "We were very happy, and much to everyone's surprise, had a daughter, just to complete the unsuitableness of it all. David died very peacefully when she was still rather young, but she and I had this house to come to, and it's a very good place to raise a family, even a small one."

"She was the one--she died in the car accident?" Jared bit his lip, because sometimes he really needed to think before he talked. "I'm sorry--"

"No, it's fine," she said, but her face had faded. "It's ancient history and none of it answers what you should call me. I suppose any variation on Grandmother is a trifle premature."

"You mean since we don't really know for sure yet," Jared said.

"I was thinking more about how sudden this all must be for you," she said. "My given name is Frances, so perhaps we could come up with something using that."

"Whatever you think," Jared said, doubtfully. It was barely twilight outside, but he yawned, suddenly. "I'm sorry. I'm--my body can't quite figure out what time it's supposed to be."

"Yes, and it's been a rather long day, hasn't it? I'll let you settle in and go see about finding you something a little more comfortable to wear until Mr. Rosenbaum sends your things." She hesitated at the door. "Good-night, dear. I hope you'll be all right here."

"I'll be fine," Jared said. "Everything will be fine." He waited until the door closed and then went and ran a bath in the giant tub in the bathroom. He'd never really been a bath-taking person, but there wasn't a shower, so he did what he always did and made do with what he had. In this case, it wasn't at all bad.

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Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Epilogue