The Jewelry Case (41 page)

"Everything will be fine," Ian told Paisley, tightening his grip around her shoulder.

She tried not to wince. It was worth it to feel his protective arm around her. There was so much she hadn't had time to tell him yet ... the falling mainsail, or the brilliant place she had hidden the jewels. They were in the most public spot imaginable, visible to everyone, yet the one place no one would think to look for them: the pirate’s treasure chest onstage, mixed with the cheap, faux trinkets used as props.

"Nothing’s wrong with Kevin except a few bruises, and a sprained ankle," Ian went on comfortingly. "He'll be performing in the play tomorrow … er ... tonight." He glanced at his watch. "It’s after midnight. But I do think you'll need to find someone else to play the Major General."

After answering the policemen’s questions, Kevin slept the remainder of the night at Paisley’s house, under an old comforter in Esther’s childhood bedroom upstairs, while Ian stretched out on the couch downstairs. In the morning, as the males slept in, Paisley telephoned Barry Klein and asked her lawyer to find out if she could have guardianship of the boy until he turned eighteen, only a few months away. She’d tell Kevin about her request later. Somehow, she thought he would be okay with that.

Someday, she’d even talk to him about how they’d been wrong about Steve, that he had in fact tried to be a good guardian for Kevin, even if he had failed in so many other areas.

Paisley marveled at the resilience of teenagers: Kevin, leg in a cast, hid whatever emotional trauma he had experienced the previous night so well that it might never have happened. He insisted, vehemently and repeatedly, that the show must go on, until finally Shirley, who had listened wide-eyed to the entire incredible tale, gave in.

That night the auditorium was packed. A bus brought a full load of passengers from Sunny Acres, and a pink-cheeked Georgiana spotted her and waved from her seat between Hugo and Walter, the chess-playing friends from the senior center, who had removed their battered golf caps and donned matching checkered button-up shirts for the occasion.

Even Alix, Quinn, and Rusty, Ian's work crew, sat in the center, near the front. Alix had put on a denim skirt and taken her hair out of its usual ponytail. Rusty was looking down at her with a bedazzled expression, as if he had never seen her before.

Despite his bandaged foot, Kevin ruled the stage. “After all, Long John Silver only had one leg, right?” he'd quipped to the cast before the curtain went up. It was true that using a crutch to hop about the stage with bombastic arrogance, he made a charismatic and hilarious Pirate King. When it was over, the audience gave him a standing ovation, refusing to stop until he came out and bowed several times.

The boy had been right to insist on carrying on with the play, Paisley thought with satisfaction, listening to the waves of applause. For three hours, he had been able to shut out his nightmarish memories of the previous night. As the curtain dropped the final time and he turned to laugh and joke with his actor friends, however, Paisley saw a new maturity in the teen’s dark-brown eyes and around his mouth.

Tonight, though, was for celebration. Volunteers pushed together two tables in her back yard to hold all the food for the cast party. Pleased, Paisley looked around at the people crowding into the repainted living room and kitchen and out onto the porch. Soda pop flowed as freely as the conversation, and hip hop music thumped from the stereo’s ancient speakers. The tall redheaded kid set himself up as DJ, and the kids drifted outside to dance, Kevin and Chloe among them.

Paisley made a circuit from kitchen to refreshment table, making sure everyone's glasses were filled, accepting congratulations, and pausing for brief conversations with friends. Finally she went out on the brightly lit front porch to check on the guests who had congregated there, several of them sitting on the railing with their drinks and plates of food. Ian sat on the porch swing, talking animatedly with Shirley.

Paisley watched them with a peculiar pain in her heart. Friends. That's what they were, these dear, familiar faces who crowded her house and her life. And she would likely never see them again.

She was thinking of the airline ticket she had purchased when Ian looked up from his conversation and saw her hovering in the doorway.

"Oh, there you are," he said, beckoning her to join them. "Time to stop working and join the celebration." He pulled her down to sit beside him on the swing and casually bent over to kiss her on the lips. When he raised his head, he was smiling, light-gray eyes sparkling. "We make lousy detectives, you and I. If not for that infernal cat, we never would have found the jewels.”

She shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it. Oh, Ian … I was wrong about Steve. He wasn’t an evil guy, just a weak one, doing the best he could. He didn’t deserve to die.”

“
Don’t think about it. Whatever happened to him, he brought it on himself.” Ian paused, to allow her a moment to grieve, then gave her arm another gentle squeeze. “So, my lovely heiress, what do you plan do with your loot? Keep it or sell it?"

"Neither.” Paisley had spent all night awake, thinking about it. She knew what Esther would have wanted. “It's Kevin's. I think I know why Esther left me the house.” She decided to leave out part of what she thought: Esther had been trying to play matchmaker, bringing Ian and her together. Instead, she said the other part of what she had concluded. “I think she wanted me to watch over Kevin. She knew he was in danger. And I’m sure she would want the jewels to go to him." Paisley held up her hand, letting the ruby ring flash under the porch light. "But maybe Kevin will let me keep the ring, if I ask nicely," she added wistfully.

Ian brought the back of her hand to his lips. The gesture reminded her of the Russian courtier from one of her dreams, although with his jeans, T-shirt, sticking-up hair and outsized ears he could not have looked less suave. "Very honorable of you, my lady. What do you think your nephew will do with the jewelry? He certainly isn't going to wear any of it."

"I'll advise him to auction them off to finance his education. Maybe a museum will buy the collection, considering the jewels’ unique history. And with the cash that’s left over…." Her eyes brightened. "You know, the other day Kevin was telling me this town really needs a decent theater. With what’s left of his inheritance and a few community fund-raisers, we could build something here that could rival the Moldavi Center or that place in Ashland, Oregon, where they put on a Shakespeare festival every summer. Maybe you could design the building, Ian! People would drive all the way from Sacramento or San Francisco to see our productions, right here in the heart of wine country. The restaurants and shops around here would benefit from all the increased tourist traffic. We could name it the Ruth Wiegiel Center, and blow up that photograph of her wearing the jewelry, frame it to hang in the lobby....

His hands tightened on her wrist. "'We?' Then...."

She thought again of the ticket she had bought, and at that moment she knew there would be an empty seat on the plane to New York in the morning.

"Yes, darling. I'm staying.

The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Catherine McGreevy lives in Folsom, California. She has a husband, three children and two cats, Storm and Jinx. A former teacher and newspaper reporter, she is an omnivorous reader and historical enthusiast with particular interest in Gold Rush history. She has been known to don period clothing to reenact the past with the Sierra Nevada Mormon Pioneers in settings such as Sutter’s Fort and the gold discovery site at Coloma. Catherine is the daughter of a foreign service officer and spent much of her childhood in Spain, France, and Morocco. She holds a degree in Communications from Brigham Young University. Look for upcoming books in her favorite genres, including suspense and historical.

Visit the author’s web site at: [email protected]