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"Molly, you're a maid, right? At this hotel?"

 

"Molly, how does it feel to go from rags to riches in an instant?"

"Molly, can you get up off the floor? You're rich!"

"Molly, mi amor? Are you okay?"

The last voice cuts through, bringing me back to myself—Juan Manuel, my love, my life.

Lights and cameras push closer, and I lose sight of him. I try to lift myself, but I lack strength. Stars twinkle in my periphery—all that glitters isn't gold. Two men's faces—I know them; I've seen them before, many times—the stars of a popular show.

"Tell our viewers how it feels, Molly. What's it like to be an instant multimillionaire?"

The world tilts sideways and suddenly fades to black.

And then I remember everything: But how? How did it come to this?

* * *

"Rise and shine, mi amor!" These were the first words I heard as I woke this morning. Through sleepy eyes, I watched as Juan, still in his pajamas, popped out of our bed and pulled the curtains back to let the soft morning light into our room.

I'm not a morning person, but Juan Manuel, just like my gran before him, delights at the dawn of each new day, invigorated with a zest for life, whereas I wrestle my way out from under cobwebs of exhaustion, begging for a few more minutes of slumber. And so it was this morning as it is on most mornings.

"I beg you, press snooze! Please!" I nestled deeper under the covers.

My beloved shuffled into his slippers and like a contented sparrow sang a happy tune as he flitted about our bedroom. A moment later, the mattress shifted as he perched on the edge. I felt his warm hand cajole me from my blanket nest.

"Early to bed, early to rise, makes Molly healthy, wealthy, and wise," he chimed in his singsong voice.

 

"Health and wisdom, I already possess," I muttered. "As for wealth, that's really asking too much, especially two months before our wedding day."

He laughed, a sparkling sound, crystalline and pure, like a silver spoon tinkling the edges of a porcelain cup. It's now been over six months since Juan proposed to me in a surprising holiday revelation on the staircase at the Regency Grand. I was happy and relieved to say yes.

"Get up, Molly. Today's a busy day! We have to get to the hotel early. The TV crew will be there at nine A.M. sharp. I'm so excited. We're going to meet the stars of the show!"

We were poised for a huge day at the Regency Grand, where Juan and I both work—he as a chef and I as a maid. Brown and Beagle, the famous appraising couple known for identifying antiquities and long-lost works of art, were bringing their road show to the hotel's Grand Tearoom. It's a shame Gran never got to see their popular reality TV series, Hidden Treasures, which debuted two years ago. She would have loved the hosts, owners of the eponymous high-end art auction house, two middle-aged, married men who share a passion for art and antiquities, designer clothes, and each other. The Bees, as they're affectionately known by their legions of adoring fans, delight audiences nationwide with their witty repartee and their historical know-how, all while appraising items brought to the show by everyday collectors spanning the globe.

Most of the items they assess on air turn out to be worthless trinkets or not-so-clever fakes, but devoted viewers—myself and Juan included—watch every week for the gasp-worthy moments when a long-forgotten painting discovered in a dusty attic turns out to be a van Gogh or a wardrobe with a secret drawer bought from a charity shop reveals a hoard of priceless coins.

I felt Juan's hand again, pulling the covers from my face. A moment later, his lips grazed my cheek as he planted kisses in a perfect garden row.

"If you're not going to rise and shine, solita, I may have to resort to extreme measures," he said playfully as he ducked under the covers and continued his plantation down my bare shoulder.