ship to a top universi

o work for her father' s firm, a place whe

as the perfect, acc

nded wit

e told me it held old family jewelry, heirlooms from her

weekly "charity luncheon," I found the

. I wasn't shaking.

cked t

o jewelry.

velvet, was a small, discreet urn.

ere two fold

procedure. The date was six months ago, a week

s from a crem

per, landing on the li

sn't

ame w

was a stalker, a crazy ex who couldn't let go. The ma

the urn and the r

d put the key back

that evening, she k

ney?" she asked, her

t the perfect smil

. "I was thinkin

ed, just fo

Oh

r parents are always talking about grandchi

ugh, a little t

serious. We have ple

vanity and ran a fing

it should be," she said, lo

ew t

every