“Not the first one,” Gwen said. “Remember? He couldn’t because it was of our building. Nadine found it in the basement. And the woman who bought it won’t give it back. I asked.”

Clarissa came back with the check and Tilda took it. “Thank you,” she said to Clarissa and then spoke into the phone. “Ask again.”

“I tried. She hung up on me and I called again and Mason Phipps answered. She’s staying with him.” Gwen’s voice grew slower. “Mason was an old friend of your father’s. He’s the one who told her about Scarlet and the gallery. And he invited me to dinner tonight.”

“Oh, good. One of us will have a hearty meal.”

“So I thought I’d go and distract them and you could sneak in and steal it,” Gwen said. “And then we can bury it in the basement again.”

Tilda turned away from Clarissa and whispered into the phone. “You do realize you don’t get muffins in prison?” She tried again for a deep breath, fighting back the nausea. “And when we get it back, we’re burning it. If I’d known it was down th-”

“Something wrong?” Clarissa said from behind her.

“No,” Tilda said to her. “Everything is peachy.” She spoke into the phone. “I’m coming home. I’ll be there in four hours. Do not do anything until I get there.”

“We never do,” Gwen said and hung up.

“I certainly hope everything’s okay,” Clarissa said, looking avid.

“Everything is always okay,” Tilda said bitterly. “That’s what I do. I make everything okay.” She stuffed the check in her shirt pocket and looked down at Spot, trembling on her foot. “Which is why I’m taking your dog.”

“What?” Clarissa said, but Tilda had already scooped Spot up, his long body drooping over her arm while his feet tried for purchase on her hip.

“Just saving you a trip to the pound,” Tilda said. “Have a lovely day.”