The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

“Yes,” Maddie says with an imperiousness that reminds me of Mother. “I’ve come to pick up an item my father placed on deposit here a few months ago. This piece wasn’t meant to be put on loan.”


“I’m so sorry,” the young woman says with an evenness that belies her sorriness. “What a blunder. Here, come this way.”

She leads us into a narrow room lined with filing cabinets, with a felt-covered table in the center. Maddie seats herself at the head of the table and folds her hands, tapping her thumbs together.

“Are you sure they’ll just give it to you?” I whisper in her ear.

“Shh,” Maddie shushes me out of the side of her mouth. “Just act normal.”

I gather she’s saying that mainly for her own benefit, as I can act however I like with impunity. But I’m too nervous to try playing pranks on the young woman from the historical society. I’m afraid that she’ll somehow snatch away my last chance without even knowing what she’s done.

This woman has the power to damn me for eternity, and doesn’t even know it.

“Now then,” the young woman says, reappearing from a vestibule carrying a large book under her arm. She sets it on the table in front of us and opens it to the first page. “This is our finding aid for the collection. You don’t know the acquisition number, do you?”

“No,” Maddie says tightly. “It’s a piece of jewelry. A cameo.”

“A cameo,” the woman repeats.

She runs a finger down a long list. Then she flips a page.

She flips another page.

I’m so nervous and afraid that I fear I’m going to scream, and if I scream, what if somehow the woman will be able to hear me? My ability to effect change in the world waxes and wanes. Sometimes I can touch things, and sometimes I can’t. I can be seen in certain glimpses, but not in others. My feelings can sometimes bring me into sharper relief. As when I rattled the bars of the cemetery gate: My horror brought my hands into firm-enough condition that I could grasp the bars and make them move.

As I’m thinking these things, the young woman’s head snaps up, and she looks straight at me. I freeze, thumbnail in mouth, holding my breath.

She stares right at the spot where I’m standing, but her eyes aren’t focused on me.

“Is everything okay?” Maddie asks, her gaze jumping between me and the woman.

The woman frowns.

Then she turns slowly back to the book.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m just jumpy.”

I exhale as silently as I can, and while the woman’s attention is distracted, Maddie glares quickly at me, telling me with her eyes to keep quiet. I shrug, and mouth, I didn’t do anything! Maddie shakes her head.

“All right,” the woman says. “It looks like we have a few cameos in the Van Sinderen collection. Do you know which one it is?”

“Um,” Maddie says, biting a lip. She looks at me, eyebrows shooting up in inquiry.

“It’s red,” I whisper. “A ring. With Persephone on it.”

“Is there a . . . red one?” Maddie asks.

“Hrm,” the woman says. “Doesn’t say. Why don’t I just bring them all out?”

“All right,” Maddie says.

A few minutes pass while the young woman disappears into wherever it is that she goes. I pace to and fro behind Maddie’s chair, a finger twisting my curls.

“What if it’s not here after all?” I say.

“It’ll be here,” Maddie says, inspecting her fingernails. Eastlin made her wipe off the chipped black polish.

I hear a faint buzzing sound, like a tiny bee caught behind a wardrobe door. Maddie reaches into her bag and pulls out a little glass box like the one Wes carries. She peers at it critically. Then she grins.

“That’s a great idea,” she says aloud.

“What is?” I ask, rushing to look over her shoulder.

“The boys have decided where we should meet for you to put the ring on, when we find it,” she says to me, her head cocked to one side.

“Where?” I ask, worrying my hands together