Endless by Amanda Gray Page A

parquet floors, tall ceilings and crown moldings, antique fixtures—but it hadn’t fallen into disrepair. In fact, the house seemed meticulously clean and smelled faintly of lemon oil.
    Eben hung a right at the end of the hall, and they followed him into some kind of parlor. Stained glass windows depicted fields of daffodils, casting strips of yellow, gold, and green light on the floor. A massive table, covered in papers and lit by an old lamp, dominated the center of the room, while glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls. Some of the shelves held books, others china and miscellaneous treasure that glinted and gleamed.
    Gesturing them to take the two chairs in front of the desk, Eben walked around and sat behind it. He slipped a pair of black-rimmed glasses onto his face and leaned back, appraising Ben and Jenny through the small, circular lenses. His eyes were a surprising light brown and very clear.
    “So. Do you have the box?” he asked, creating a steeple out of his fingertips.
    Ben turned to Jenny. She reached into her bag, a knot of anxiety forming in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Eben. It was just that the box felt like more than a random find.
    Like something she was supposed to find.
    Now that she had it, letting it go for even a few minutes felt like opening herself up to the possibility of losing it forever. If it disappeared it would be like a door closing before she really got to understand what was on the other side.
    “Give it to him,” Ben prodded under his breath.
    Jenny handed it over. Whatever happened, she just wouldn’t leave without it, that’s all.
    Eben reached out, taking it from her. His hands were wrinkled and dotted with age spots, but his grasp was assured.
    “Where did you find this object?”
    “It was in the attic of this house we inherited,” Ben explained as Eben drew back the fabric. “It plays Moonlight Sonata .”
    Jenny wished he’d be quiet. She didn’t care if Eben knew about Moonlight Sonata , but Ben’s yammering had taken on the tone of nervous chatter. Who knew what he’d let slip if he kept going.
    But Eben didn’t seem to be listening. He’d peeled back the last layer of cloth and was inspecting the box with so much concentration that Jenny wondered if he’d gone into some kind of trance.
    Finally, he reached for a magnifying glass and bent to inspect the top of it. His bracelets clanged together.
    “Tell me more about this house.” He ran a forefinger over the box’s lid.
    Jenny sensed Ben’s reticence as he shifted in his seat. Was it that he didn’t want to tell Eben about the house or that he didn’t want Jenny to know?
    “There’s not much to tell. My mom inherited it from some great-uncle. She didn’t even know him that well. We’re just renovating it so we can flip it for some quick cash and move on, you know?”
    Eben raised his eyes to Ben. Jenny had the distinct impression that Eben did not, in fact, know about flipping something for quick cash and moving on. He’d probably lived in this house his whole life, selling things carefully and only after a lot of deliberation.
    Eben bent his head back to the box, lifting the lid. He tipped his head as the eerie tinkle of Moonlight Sonata emerged from within. “And is your great-uncle Russian?”
    Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”
    “Work of this kind is often found on Russian pieces of a certain era.” He put his magnifying glass down, turning to a neatly organized bookshelf behind him. Scanning the titles, he reached for one, flipping through it until he found what he was looking for. He slid the book toward Ben and Jenny. “Like this. It’s a Fabergé egg. But if you look, you’ll notice a similarity in the coloring and materials. Especially the violet panels and the metalwork.”
    Jenny leaned in, looking at the magnificent piece on the page, her eyes drawn to the name in the description.
    “Fabergé?” she said. “Isn’t that really expensive?”
    “As with