oe

creen illuminating my resolute face. My fingers flew a

amily co

p memorabi

shape in my mind, p

rished. I will make you pay for

my room, discussing the divorce proceedings and the logistics of moving out with Sloane. I kept

yground, and I was merely a harmless obstacle. He drew all over my favorite cashmere rug with permanent markers. He poured m

ene. I just quietly recorded the

dusting in the living room. Caleb was chasing t

ing was

stairs, making s

nlocked it with a small key. Then I took out a piece of silk cloth. Very slo

y piqued, trotted o

room. "This is my favorite thing in the whole world. It's the most precious treasure

structive spark of a spoiled child wh

her's most prized heirloom. It's the stick that the legendary Art Coulter used to s

housekeeper on the other side. "Mrs. White, please keep a clo

solemnly. "Of co

, "Especially Caleb. He's too

row as he stared at the lock o

s and watched from

noticed Caleb's obsession with the cabinet. She sent Mrs. Whit

arted trying to pick the old-fashioned lock w

ked open with

nt grin on his face. He swung it like a

the players he'd seen on TV, and

AC

all, and the fragile,

broken pieces in his hands

ing a tray of tea and scones. She saw the

hat have you done?" she shrieked,

r face went white. She had probably only meant to let her son play with

ched the beauti

friend who owned an art gallery: Y

umber for the Gordon

ds," I sobbed into the phone at the butler on th