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"Especially," he said, holding me out at arm's length, "because we have each other and the blessing of a child to come. Let's put all the unhappiness behind us. Nothing but good things lay ahead."

"Oh, Logan. I hope you're right," I said, nearly brought to tears by his expression of happiness and contentment. We kissed again, interrupted by Drake's entry.

"I'm ready," he said. I had left him in his bathroom to brush his own hair. He stood in the doorway and looked in at us. He was dressed in a pair of light gray slacks, a dark gray shirt with a dark blue bow tie and a dark blue sports jacket. I never thought a little boy his age could be so proud of his clothing and how he looked.

Drake had his hair brushed neatly back and had worked a little wave up front.

"And so you are," Logan said. "Who is this handsome gentleman, Heaven?"

"I don't know," I said. "There was a schoolboy here a while ago, who had dirtied himself in the playground. I think he had sand in his hair and small patches of grass growing in his ears. Could this be the same boy?" I smiled, but Drake, so serious and deepthinking a child, made his eyes smaller.

"I'm Drake," he said. I could see the anger brighten in the corners of his mouth.

"Of course you are, honey," I said. "Logan and I were just fooling with you. Come, we'll all go downstairs. We don't want to be late."

Logan held out his arm to me. "Ready for your day, Heaven." His smile beckoned like a glittering diamond. Little Drake came running.

Drake had helped us plan special ctivities for the kids--three-legged races, a bean-bag pitch, and apple bobbing. He could barely contain his excitement as we drove to the factory grounds.

We had two bars set up at either end of the lawn and an enormous tent between them in the rear with tables and chairs. When Drake first saw it, he thought Pa's circus had arrived in Winnerow. The bandstand was draped in red, white, and blue streamers.

Over the entrance to the factory, we had a large gold banner welcoming people to the opening of the WILLIES TOY FACTORY. It was my idea to leave off the Tatterton name.

Folks were already dancing and drinking, laughing and talking. Suddenly, out of the hubbub of old trucks and station wagons pulling into the parking lot, a sleek black limousine with dark smoked windows glided up. My breath caught in my chest. There was only one person this could be. The door opened, and a shiny patent-leather shoe emerged, followed by an elegant, tuxedo-clad Tony Tatterton. I desperately looked around for Logan, but he was nowhere to be found. I took a deep breath to steal myself for what was to come, held mynhead high, and stepped forward to greet Tony Tatterton.

"Mr. Tatterton," I said stiffly as I walked toward him. "We didn't think you would be able to attend." His eyes drank me in.

"Heaven," he gasped, "your hair!"

"Do you like it? I braided it myself. It's the height of fashion in the Willies."

"The color," he stammered.

"It's my real color, as you know, Mr. Tatterton."

For a moment he couldn't take his eyes off of my hair, as though he were staring not into a black head of hair but into a black abyss of lost memories. I could tell he was reading the symbolism of my gesture. I no longer wanted to be associated with the Tattertons. Everything he saw in me now was pure Winnerow Casteel. Then he slowly gathered himself together and glanced disapprovingly around. "It's quite a little shindig you and your country boy husband have put together." For a brief moment the insecure little girl in me was chastened by the judgment and scorn I read in his eyes. But I quickly chased her away, and stiffened my spine with pride and glared back at him, smiling as though I owned the world.

"I noticed you've renamed the factory," he said after an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch between us for hours.

"Logan and I decided that the name Tatterton was inappropriate for this particular factory. May I get you something to drink, Mr. Tatterton?"

"No, I don't think I'll be staying very long. I don't exactly fit in," he said, running his hand over his silk tie, "do I? Unless of course your husband has a pair of overalls I can borrow." He smiled, and I could tell he was trying to make a joke, but I kept my heart hardened against him.

"Please don't, Tony. Despite everything that has happened between us, Logan once loved and admired you very much. Show him a little respect."

Tony looked down, shaking his head sadly from time to time. Then he looked once again into my eyes, his own filled with tears.

"Please, Heaven, can't we be alone for a few minutes? I need to talk to you so badly." "

"I shall never, ever be alone with you again," I said coldly.

"You don't understand, Heaven. I was drunk. I was out of my mind with grief over Jilli

an's death. I was--"

"Your bereavement took on a strange form of grieving."

"Heaven, come back to Farthy. Logan and you and I can start over again," he said, suddenly pleading like a little boy. "I just know it could work! I just know it!"