The Jewelry Case (24 page)

Before he could refuse, she rushed on. "We've lost one of our stars, and we don't have enough actors to replace him. We
…
that's Shirley Zacarias and me...." She stopped. "Um, you know Shirley, don't you?"

"Yeah." He looked up from under his long black bangs. "She's the lady who owns that bookshop on Main Street, isn't she? They have a great Manga collection."

Paisley remembered that Shirley had mentioned he was interested in Japanese comics, like so many kids his age. "That's right. Shirley has asked me to be in charge of the music, and the truth is, we're short on talent. Someone told me you can sing, so I went and checked you out. They were right."

His face turned beet red, and he looked down at his Vans. "Who told you I sing?"

"One of the girls in the cast. Blond hair, stands about this tall." Paisley held a hand a couple of inches above her own head. "She's the one who told me you'd be performing at the open-mic night."

"Was it Chloe?"

She kept her smile to herself. That had been no random guess. "Yes, that's right. Chloe."

His face broke into the contagious smile she remembered. She determined at that moment, she would get him onstage if she had to wrestle him there herself. Underneath the adolescent awkwardness, he had charisma that could melt klieg lights.

Once again, she wondered why he had burglarized her house. She was no psychologist, but nothing about him indicated a predilection for criminal behavior. He was just a sweet, shy kid with stunning good looks and great talent.

She turned on her own charm full wattage, doing everything but bat her eyelashes. "Please, Kevin. I'll tell you what: why don't you come to rehearsal tomorrow afternoon? If you decide you don't want to participate, you don't have to. I won't try to change your mind. Scout's honor." She crossed her fingers behind her back. "I have a feeling you'll have a lot of fun. It's a friendly group of kids. A lot of them were at Starbucks the other night; you probably know a lot of them already."

She sensed he wanted to say "yes." But he glanced back at the white adobe walls and red-tile roof of the retirement center, as if searching for direction. Then he turned back and met her eyes straight-on. " One rehearsal. But I won't promise anything beyond that."

"Good enough for me." She held out her hand, and after a hesitation he took it. He had a nice firm grasp. He had nice eyes, too, she thought dispassionately, warm brown under those dark eyebrows and that shock of black hair.
God
, the girls would love him. "See you tomorrow at five o'clock."

"Yeah, sure. Tomorrow at five o'clock." He glanced back at the windows of the retirement home.

She found Ian still chatting to the receptionist. The young woman was giggling, fluttering her eyelashes, and twirling a lock of bleached hair around her French-manicured finger. It looked as if Ian had been practicing his own brand of charm. For a moment Paisley felt another pang of something that certainly could not be jealousy. Why should she be jealous? Ian could flirt with anyone he wanted. Good luck to him.

Ian turned toward Paisley as she approached, and his grin widened, revealing long twin creases down his cheeks. Even if he didn't have Steven's good looks, it was clear why the receptionist was batting her eyelashes at him.

"Paisley, meet Francesca. She says Mrs. Georgiana Rivers is awake and would love to have visitors." There was a meaningful emphasis to his words.

"Georgiana Rivers? Oh, Georgiana!" The name clicked into place. "The friend Esther wrote about in her diary!" The little girl who had given Esther a kitten for her birthday. She had grown up and now was a resident of the same retirement home where Esther had ended her days, Paisley realized, with a sense of shock. Well, why not? As the Disney song went, it all was part of the circle of life. And, as W.C. Fields had pointed out somewhat more acerbically, growing old certainly beat the alternative.

Ian looked as pleased as the archaeologist Howard Carter after discovering King Tut's tomb. "Georgiana and Esther shared a room here. Best friends reunited after decades apart."

Paisley couldn't hide her excitement. Although she had hoped to run across someone who had known Esther, she hadn't expected to hit the jackpot.

"I'll buzz her room and let her know you're coming, Mr. McMurtry," Francesca said to Ian, tossing flowing blond locks over her shoulder. "Room 3-A on the right." She shot Paisley a hostile glance.

Ian winked at the receptionist, put his hand on Paisley's waist, and guided her down the hallway, whistling under his breath. The door opened off the corridor into an airy room with a stunning view over the valley. The furniture consisted of a pair of twin-sized beds, a dresser, and a TV. A walker stood in the corner, and a slight whiff of Listerine mixed with the scent of roses. Brightly colored birthday cards and a large vase of flowers covered the dresser; a bouquet of balloons bobbed in a corner.

Almost hidden in the large bed, a petite woman sat propped up by pillows, her lower half covered by a hand-knitted afghan. She was the spitting image of Mrs. Claus, pink cheeks, fluffy white hair, and all. A satin quilted housecoat was draped over her shoulders, and she was petting a fluffy object on her lap that looked like a muff, but which turned out to be a white shih-tzu dog. It yapped at them as they entered.

"Now, now, Fuzzykins," the woman scolded.

The dog settled down, watching them suspiciously from under wisps of white hair and a pink bow.

The woman proved that opposites attracted, even in friendships, Paisley thought, bemused, as she remembered Esther's unsentimental nature. Fuzzykins? Even Ian looked nonplussed.

Georgiana Rivers turned toward them, and her cheeks plumped up like a pair of Pink Lady apples. "Guests! How wonderful!" She reached out a delicate hand. Paisley took the soft fingers that smelled like rose-scented cologne. They closed around hers with unexpected strength
,
steel under marshmallow fluff. Paisley was briefly reminded of Kevin's grandmother, but the thought vanished almost immediately. "You must be Esther's grand-niece! What a wonderful birthday present, to have you visit me!"

"I'm only her great niece by marriage," Paisley corrected her. "We were not blood related."

"Even better." Georgiana's unexpected frankness didn't match her "just-took-sugar-cookies-out-of-the-oven" appearance or the sweet curve of her pink-lipstick-coated mouth. "Esther couldn't abide most of her blood relatives. Can't blame her, either. Please, sit down, sit down, both of you!"

She waved them to a pair of chairs by the window and focused her curious blue eyes on Paisley. "So you're Jonathan's widow! Esther followed your career avidly, you know. She even kept a little scrapbook with clippings of Jonathan's and your performances. I believe it's in that bookcase over there."

She waved her hand, and Ian, correctly interpreting the gesture, trotted over obediently to fetch it.

"I hardly know why she bothered," Paisley said as Ian handed the scrapbook to her and she opened the pages. The large binder opened to the
Time
magazine cover featuring Jonathan; glued to the opposite page was a tiny, yellowed newspaper clipping that announced her first performance in a supporting role at the Met. A fitting demonstration of the difference between her career and her husband's, she thought wryly.

The scrapbook's other pages held programs and ticket stubs from concerts Paisley and Jonathan had appeared in, individually or together. Paisley was touched in spite of herself. "Esther scarcely knew me," she exclaimed, looking up. "Why on earth would she keep all this memorabilia?"

"You're wrong. Esther considered herself a good judge of character. After returning from your wedding, she told me she had felt a strong connection with you, as if she had known you for a long time. She said it was unusual for a young bride to show such interest in an old woman, a stranger. I believe the words she used were that 'something just clicked between you.'"

Paisley bit back a gasp. She had felt the same. She remembered the birthday cards and Christmas cards she had sent and felt regret she hadn't done more. But then, she had hardly stayed in touch with her own family these past few years, when everything had been so rushed, and her career had seemed paramount.

Georgiana hadn't finished. "She felt sorry for you, too, my dear. She felt ... shall I say ... protective. Marrying into the Perleman family is not for the faint-hearted. Nor could Esther understand how a nice girl like you could put up with Jonathan's ego, even if you were both in the music business."

Paisley was conscious of Ian's eyes on her. She coughed and struggled to keep her face composed. Georgiana made it sound as if Paisley had married Jonathan to advance her career. Well, perhaps there was a modicum of truth to it, she admitted to herself. Was that how it appeared to others? If so, Jonathan had benefited almost as much as she had. There had been a flurry of publicity after he married her, and many of the articles had focused on the attractive young couple. Several articles had used the term "Svengali," and Jonathan's recently flagging career had experienced an upsurge.

Georgiana, seemingly unconscious of the effect her words had on Paisley, turned to her other listener, and a girlish expression appeared on the rosy features. "And Ian, how nice to see you again! My, you've grown even taller than your handsome grandfather. I knew him well, you know. We graduated from high school the same year. In fact ...."

While the other two chatted about people and events Paisley didn't know, she wondered how to bring up the subject of Esther's past without appearing like one of the relatives she so transparently despised. The existence or nonexistence of rubies and diamonds suddenly seemed unimportant compared to the sea of reminiscences, yet that was the question that had brought them here.

It was as if Georgiana read her mind. "So why did you two come?" she said suddenly, transferring her attention back to Paisley, her eyes bright and curious. "Surely it wasn't just to visit little old me!"

Paisley cleared her throat. "I'd like to learn more about Esther's past. Especially her childhood. I thought we might find someone here who knew her long ago, and we were lucky enough to find you."

"Oh? Are you a family history buff?"

Paisley looked at Ian for guidance. He blandly returned her gaze and she forged on alone. "Not until recently. But since I moved into the house I've been thinking a lot about her. I found an old diary of hers, with your name in it
.
"

"A diary!" Georgiana leaned forward. "Tell me, is it green leather with gold letters stamped on the cover?"

"Yes, it is. "

"That must be the one I gave Esther for her ninth birthday." Her eyes misted over reminiscently. "I'll never forget the day I met her. She was new at our school, and so shy. She was thin, with those big, black eyes, and only spoke a few words of English, but she had such a vibrant personality, even then. After school I invited her home, and after that we were inseparable. No one could have been happier than I was when, many years later, she moved back to River Bend and we were able to resume our friendship."

"In the diary, she mentions you often," Paisley said. "I wonder if she ever ... if the subject ever came up ...." For some reason, she could not get the words out. What business, really, was this of hers?

Ian leaned forward, and his hand covered hers comfortingly. "Paisley wants to know if Esther ever talked about her life before she came to the United States," he said.

A tiny frown knit Georgiana's brows. "You mean, her life in Poland? Hardly at all. The subject must have been painful for her. Think of it! Parted from her family at such a young age, knowing she might never see them again.... Although all the horrible things that happened during the war didn't come out until years later
—
somehow
—
I'm sure she knew, even then." Georgiana's blue eyes filled with tears, her mouth trembling a little. She reached for a tissue.

Paisley looked down at her hands. She wished she hadn't brought up the past. The jewels' importance paled in the light of human tragedies, of human relationships.

But something inside her, like a silent whisper, reminded her that Esther herself was the one who had brought the topic up. Leaving Paisley the cameo had not been just a sentimental gesture: it had been a pointed reminder of the old legends.

And then bequeathing the house to Paisley, rather than to Jonathan. Another teasing message, that Jonathan had comprehended, even if she hadn't. That the treasure he and his family had sought all these years were not his. Esther had dangled it just beyond his fingertips, laughing, even beyond the grave.

Even the dreams .... No, the dreams didn't count. Paisley didn't believe in ghosts, or messages from the Other World. But the link existed, albeit a fragile one. Somehow she had the sensation that Esther was urging her along, that Esther wanted her to follow the clues. The old woman would be disappointed if she stopped now.

"Mrs. Rivers
….
"

"Oh, call me Georgiana, please!" Under the soft wrinkles appeared a glimpse of the friendly, impulsive girl who had taken young Esther under her wing.