Stacy put her head against the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes. Sun was streaming into the car as they drove down I-25 into Denver.

“Thank you for coming with me today, sweetheart; it means a lot.” Stacy felt her mom’s hand gently squeeze her knee before moving back to the steering wheel . Sighing, Stacy opened her eyes and turned up the radio.

Twenty minutes later Stacy’s mom pulled their green Subaru into the parking lot of the Shady Acres assisted living facility. Her stomach filling with cement, Stacy slowly got out of the car and braced herself for the flickering of fluorescent lights, the sounds of TVs turned too loud because their viewers forgot to put in their hearing aids, for the smell of dust and bland cafeteria food.

“Tell me, my dear, how is school?” With a plastered smile on her face, Stacy has to concentrate on not rolling her eyes. What a boring question. How I’m I supposed to answer that? School sucks. The only fun part of my day is sucking Paul’s face during lunch.

“Oh, you know Grandma, school is school.” The conversation stalled momentarily as the two older women waited for elaboration. When none appeared to be forthcoming, however, the talk drifted back between Stay’s mother, Linda, and her grandmother. Stacy’s mind began to wonder as her eyes gazed around the small room. Her grandmother had been living in this facility for two years now and the long time residency showed in the personal touches scattered throughout. There were framed photographs of family members and old friends on the window sill and the night stand, a handmade quilt decorated the bed. As her eyes continued to lazily scan the room, they stopped on a box sitting on top of her grandmother’s dresser. It was a small box, no larger than a softball. It had a domed top with a flat bottom and was made from ornately carved wood.

“I see you have spotted your gift.” Stacy’s eyes snapped back to her grandmother.

“Gift? What for?” Stacy replied and then hastily added, trying to sound more polite, “Grandma you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Oh my dear, I didn’t get you anything. That is very old. It was given to me by my grandmother and now I am passing it on to you. Go ahead, open it.”

Moving the short distance across the room to the dresser, Stacy excitedly took up the box in her hands. Her grandmother was never one to wear much jewelry but what else could this be, Stacy eagerly thought. There was a metal latch on the front of the box fastening it closed. Flicking the latch down, Stacy opened the lid and was surprised to see a small face looking back at her. Inside the box was a delicately painted miniature portrait of a strikingly beautiful young woman. The woman’s hair was a soft brown that cascaded down her shoulders in gentle ringlets. Her skin was flawless and pale with the slightest blush high on both cheeks. The pink lips were full and hinted at a smile. The bright green eyes twinkled with a mischievous intelligence and they appeared to be appeasing Stacy as much as she was appeasing them.

“Her name is Josephine and she has been in our family for a long time. It is now your responsibility to keep her safe.”

“Oh, um, cool Grandma, thanks.” Stacy had to admit she was a little disappointed that there hadn’t been a pretty necklace waiting for her in the box, but she guessed that the painting was cool, even though she had no idea what she was going to do with it. Maybe it was worth something and see could sell it to some museum or whatever.

Looking back down at the portrait, Stacy froze. The hair stood up on the back of her neck and goosebumps crawled up her arms. She was sure, absolutely sure that the woman in the portrait had just winked at her.