The Jewelry Case by Catherine McGreevy

closed her eyes, remembering the clich é : "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach." As another clich é pointed out, beggars couldn't be choosers. Was she destined to end up like Nigel, a former singer forced to help others go on to glory? Paisley imagined her peers regarding her with pity and whispering "...Was up for 'Mimi' at the Met, but never got to perform. A car accident. Such a sad story, really...."
    No. She wasn't that desperate, not yet.
    She thanked Nigel again, and after a short friendly conversation about mutual acquaintances, said good-bye and rang off.
    Silence closed in on her as she walked down the porch steps to the lawn and turned around to face the little house Aunt Esther had left her, the refuge to which she had fled in hope of a miracle. The structure looked very ordinary in the shadows cast by the huge oak tree that dwarfed it, with the painted clapboard sides and small porch, and white gingerbread on the eaves like decorative frosting on a wedding cake. A worn, tattered wedding cake. It was the kind of house that ought to be cared for, cherished, that should have kids running around the yard and a tire swing hanging from the big oak tree near the front door. A perfect tree for climbing; if she had been a little girl, she would have been up it in an instant. It was the kind of house, she thought, where one wouldn't think twice about borrowing a cup of sugar from the next-door neighbor.
    That would be Steve Lopez. In many ways, he reminded her of Jonathan: darkly handsome, older, smooth, a shade mysterious. Hardly the type of man Paisley would think of borrowing a cup of sugar from. Although if she asked for one, she suspected Steve would give her more than just sugar.
    The corners of Paisley's mouth twitched at the thought of a flirtation with Steve. Just because the last thing she wanted right now was a man in her life didn't mean that she needed to give up on all of them forever. Maybe later, when she was ready ... when she'd forgotten Jonathan's betrayal ... when the healing was over.... For the first time, that eventuality felt possible. Something else was bothering her, though: Kevin’s negative reaction when he had found out she was related to the Perlemans. Why? He couldn’t even have known Aunt Esther. From what Steven had said, the boy hadn’t moved to River Bend until after the old lady’s death.
    As she walked inside to start preparing a light supper, she wondered what elderly Aunt Esther had made of her handsome neighbor with the vineyard and flashy cars. Had she stood peering out the living room curtains as Steve Lopez brought over a parade of lady friends in his fancy black car, to his bachelor home with its conveniently cozy leather couch and striking modern art? Had Esther been shocked, or amused? Remembering the lively sparkle in the old woman's eyes, Paisley rather thought it was the latter.
    Paisley washed the lettuce well, chopped up the tomatoes, and threw together a tossed salad. As she set the table set for one, however, a sense of loneliness rushed through her. She grabbed the plate, and went to eat in the living room, instead, in front of the TV.
    Once again, her thoughts turned to the house's elderly former occupant. Jonathan had mentioned that as a small child, Esther had lost her parents, brothers and sisters in the holocaust. The young girl had managed to escape to America and never returned to Europe.
    Paisley thought of her own, recent tragedy; the guilt, the self-pity, the pills. Esther had borne a far greater burden without allowing it to prevent her from living a happy and productive life. Hmmm. Perhaps there was a lesson to be learned there.
    Perhaps coming to River Bend had been a good idea after all, she thought. The hospital psychiatrist had said she needed to find a new purpose, to get her mind off her troubles. Perhaps, in deciding to fix up the house, she had found one.
    "Thank you, Esther," Paisley murmured under her breath. "I don't know how you knew