Read Online The Jewelry Case by Catherine McGreevy - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine McGreevy
Tags: adventure, Romance, Paranormal, Mystery, Opera, romantic suspense, northern california, small town, Mystery & Suspense, Jewelry, treasure, Recuperate, automobile accident, pirates of penzance, conductor, heirloom, gilbert and sullivan, holocaust survivor, soprano, colorful characters
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it next to hers. "Sit. I've got some lemonade in the back. It'll be good for your throat."
To her own surprise, Paisley obeyed while the shopkeeper disappeared into the dark shop, emerging a few moments later with a glass pitcher clinking with ice cubes. Shirley must have had a little kitchenette in the back, Paisley thought, or maybe she lived upstairs.
"It gets lonely sitting here all day by myself," the bookshop keeper said breathlessly as she plopped back into her own seat. "As you can see, we don't get many customers. Sometimes I wonder why I bother opening the store on weekdays."
Paisley found herself sitting on the folding chair, a cold glass of lemonade in her hand. It felt good to rest her leg, and the beverage did sooth her throat.
Shirley watched with approval. "Fresh squeezed. I made it myself from lemons off my brother's tree. We've all been wondering what was going to happen to the Perlemans' place," she added. "Such a shame, seeing it vacant, deteriorating day after day. Those old houses have so much character, don't they? And there aren't many of them left."
Paisley felt a pang of guilt. It was her fault the house had been neglected for so long. She should have appointed a caretaker or rented it, but she'd been so busy with other things that she'd forgotten its very existence until Barry had reminded her.
Shirley didn't seem to notice her visitor's chagrin. "So what do you plan to do with the place now?" she said, with her usual blunt curiosity.
The question was a reasonable one, but Paisley shied away from responding. The fact was, she still didn't know. So many decisions hanging in the air. Just thinking of them brought back her headaches.
"We'll see," she said, and changed the subject. "Tell me, are you involved with the Pirates of Penzance ? It seems you know a lot about the production."
"Involved?" Shirley snorted, leaping to the bait. "I'm running the whole darned thing. Esther's to blame; she started the community theater when she moved here after retiring. Recruited a group of actors and even directed the plays herself. She dragged me in to help with the backstage stuff: lighting, costumes, those kind of things. When she died, I couldn't bear to see it all disappear, so I sort of took over. It's not the same, though."
"Sounds like a lot of work," Paisley said sympathetically. She knew how much time and effort went into pulling off the simplest production, even the ones she had sneered at earlier.
Shirley's plump face lit up. "The work's turned out to be more challenging than I expected, but it'll come together in the end. It always does. I guess you'd know, with your background, right? Come see a rehearsal, why don't you. That way if you leave before opening night, you'll get an idea of what it's like."
"I might," said Paisley politely, although she had no more intention of doing that than she had of attending opening night. She drained her lemonade and stood. "Thanks. I appreciate the drink."
Shirley waved her thanks away. "Are you sure you can make it home? I'd be happy to close down the shop for a few minutes and give you a lift."
Paisley had almost forgotten her limp and the long red scar down her left calf, neater than the jagged one on her neck. Her lips clamped together and her tone grew frosty. "I'll be fine."
Shirley seemed oblivious that she had offended Paisley. "You really do need a car, you know. Out here in the country, it's a necessity. Try Craigslist. In the meantime, I'll keep my ear open; if I hear of anything that's available, I'll let you know."
Paisley thawed slightly. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."
As she crossed the street, Shirley called in a bellow that caused several passers-by to turn and stare. "And be sure to drop by next time you're in town. I'd like to pick your brains about that house of yours. I'm a member of the historical society, and the Perleman place is one of our older homes. If we compare notes, maybe we can learn something, huh? I've heard some
To her own surprise, Paisley obeyed while the shopkeeper disappeared into the dark shop, emerging a few moments later with a glass pitcher clinking with ice cubes. Shirley must have had a little kitchenette in the back, Paisley thought, or maybe she lived upstairs.
"It gets lonely sitting here all day by myself," the bookshop keeper said breathlessly as she plopped back into her own seat. "As you can see, we don't get many customers. Sometimes I wonder why I bother opening the store on weekdays."
Paisley found herself sitting on the folding chair, a cold glass of lemonade in her hand. It felt good to rest her leg, and the beverage did sooth her throat.
Shirley watched with approval. "Fresh squeezed. I made it myself from lemons off my brother's tree. We've all been wondering what was going to happen to the Perlemans' place," she added. "Such a shame, seeing it vacant, deteriorating day after day. Those old houses have so much character, don't they? And there aren't many of them left."
Paisley felt a pang of guilt. It was her fault the house had been neglected for so long. She should have appointed a caretaker or rented it, but she'd been so busy with other things that she'd forgotten its very existence until Barry had reminded her.
Shirley didn't seem to notice her visitor's chagrin. "So what do you plan to do with the place now?" she said, with her usual blunt curiosity.
The question was a reasonable one, but Paisley shied away from responding. The fact was, she still didn't know. So many decisions hanging in the air. Just thinking of them brought back her headaches.
"We'll see," she said, and changed the subject. "Tell me, are you involved with the Pirates of Penzance ? It seems you know a lot about the production."
"Involved?" Shirley snorted, leaping to the bait. "I'm running the whole darned thing. Esther's to blame; she started the community theater when she moved here after retiring. Recruited a group of actors and even directed the plays herself. She dragged me in to help with the backstage stuff: lighting, costumes, those kind of things. When she died, I couldn't bear to see it all disappear, so I sort of took over. It's not the same, though."
"Sounds like a lot of work," Paisley said sympathetically. She knew how much time and effort went into pulling off the simplest production, even the ones she had sneered at earlier.
Shirley's plump face lit up. "The work's turned out to be more challenging than I expected, but it'll come together in the end. It always does. I guess you'd know, with your background, right? Come see a rehearsal, why don't you. That way if you leave before opening night, you'll get an idea of what it's like."
"I might," said Paisley politely, although she had no more intention of doing that than she had of attending opening night. She drained her lemonade and stood. "Thanks. I appreciate the drink."
Shirley waved her thanks away. "Are you sure you can make it home? I'd be happy to close down the shop for a few minutes and give you a lift."
Paisley had almost forgotten her limp and the long red scar down her left calf, neater than the jagged one on her neck. Her lips clamped together and her tone grew frosty. "I'll be fine."
Shirley seemed oblivious that she had offended Paisley. "You really do need a car, you know. Out here in the country, it's a necessity. Try Craigslist. In the meantime, I'll keep my ear open; if I hear of anything that's available, I'll let you know."
Paisley thawed slightly. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."
As she crossed the street, Shirley called in a bellow that caused several passers-by to turn and stare. "And be sure to drop by next time you're in town. I'd like to pick your brains about that house of yours. I'm a member of the historical society, and the Perleman place is one of our older homes. If we compare notes, maybe we can learn something, huh? I've heard some
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