Slowly, Paige stepped closer to the vanity. She set the basket down. Her fingers hovered over the necklace, trembling. Harold’s thoughts sharpened. Take it, he thought. Show me who you are.
Paige lifted the necklace gently. She turned it in the light, studying the way it shimmered. Then she did something Harold did not expect. She placed the necklace around her neck and stepped before the mirror.
Harold’s anger flared. He prepared to press the phone button. He imagined shouting for security. He imagined Trevor’s smug face when told the new caregiver was a thief. He almost moved.
Then he noticed Paige’s expression in the mirror. She was not smiling. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She clasped the necklace with both hands and sank to her knees before the portrait of Rose.
“Mrs. Whitman,” Paige whispered, her voice unsteady. “I know this is wrong. I know this necklace is precious. I only wanted to understand what it feels like to be someone important, even for a moment. My mother worked her whole life and never owned anything beautiful. I never dreamed I would touch something like this.”