Tom
Merrill's. She played piano well enough to fool around, to maybe get at
what she was feeling. Her eyes closed, and, without opening them, she
lowered the half empty mug to the stone floor.

An hour later, she brushed her hair and put on a slinky black T-shirt.
She folded a sweater, weighed it down with a book in the bike basket,
and coasted down the mountain. Her favorite table was empty, a good
sign. She ordered a beer and put the book on the table, but she did not
read it, preferring to watch cars and people pass by, enjoying a
feeling of community. I mean, I live here, she thought. I'm not going
back. The words still thrilled her.

Patrick arrived 45 minutes later looking pretty much as he had in the
morning. "How are ya?" she asked, not wanting to throw herself at him.

"Thirsty . . . Gert died."

"Damn."

"Yeah. This morning. I just called." She pushed her bottle in his
direction and watched him take two long swallows. "Thanks," he said.
"Ginger--that's her niece--is supposed to arrive tonight. She's staying
at the house, so I said I'd be there."

"I'm sorry, Patrick."

"I am, too. I keep seeing Gert lying in that hospital bed all alone."
He paused. "Strange thing happened: she asked me not to let her niece
have a chest that was in the attic. It was like her last wish. She said
the chest was hers. 'Mine, my love,' she said. She was whispering. I
could barely hear her. When she said it, her face changed and she
looked like a girl."

"Oh, Patrick."

"She seemed almost happy. I think she was happy."

"Maybe she wasn't so alone," Willow said.

Patrick spread his hands, palms up. "Anyway--I promised, about the
chest."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"Thanks, Eve." Patrick took his beer and considered. "Go home, I guess.
Wait."

"What about the chest? Is it big?"

"Not very," Patrick said.

"Could you hide it somewhere?"

"I guess I could put it under my bed and pretend that it was mine."

"But, the niece may have seen it before."

"You're right," Patrick said.

"You could put it under the bed with a garbage bag around it--just to
hide it. Then we could figure out how to move it later, bring it up to
my house or take it to the dump."

"I don't know about the dump," Patrick said. "It would be like throwing
her away."

"No dump," Willow said.

"The garbage bag is a good idea. That's what I'll do. So . . . " He
stood. "I'll miss you. Love that T-shirt." He meant what was
u