“Excellent spotting,” I praised her, unlocking it.

“These were special gifts from your grandfather.” I removed the blue velvet boxes: the diamond earrings from our twenty-fifth anniversary, the sapphire pendant he’d given me when Rebecca was born, the tennis bracelet from our last Christmas together before the Alzheimer’s took too much of him.

“They’re so pretty,” Alice breathed, eyes wide as I opened each box.

“They’re special memories,” I corrected gently, tucking the boxes into my large handbag.

“And memories should be protected.”

We continued our expedition, Alice growing more enthusiastic as our collection grew.