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"What about the gazebo, Annie?" She waited with her smile frozen on her lips as I tried to find words that made any sense to me as well as to her.

"It's just a. . . gazebo now," I protested. "Well, that's all it ever was, Annie."

"No, it was more," I insisted. So much more, I thought. It was our dream place and dreams were falling away too quickly.

She shook her head.

"You're just going through something everyone your age goes through, Annie. Life can be scary when it comes to these crossroads. All this time you've been a little girl, protected and loved, and now you're being asked to be grown up and responsible."

"Did this happen to you, too?" I asked.

"A lot earlier, I'm afraid."

"Because your father sold you and your brothers and sisters?"

"Even before that, Annie. I didn't have much of an opportunity to be a little girl. Before I knew what was happening, I had to be a mother to Keith and Jane."

"I know. And Fanny was no help," I repeated. I had heard this before and was afraid it was all I would hear now.

"No." She laughed. "Hardly. Fanny has always been able to discard her frustrations like a garment easy to rip off. But your uncle Tom was a great help. Tom was wonderful and strong and very mature for his age. How I wish you could have known him," she added wistfully, her eyes, so much like my own, taking on a faraway look.

"But your life got so much better after you went to live at Farthy, didn't it?" I prompted, hoping she might tell me more. She appeared startled, as if she really had been in some other world.

"Not right away. Don't forget I was a girl from the Willies suddenly going to live in a fancy, sophisticated, luxurious world, sent to a posh school attended only by rich, snobby girls who made me feel unwanted." Her face hardened as she remembered. "Rich girls can be very cruel because their money and wealth protects them like a cocoon. Don't ever be inconsiderate and unsympathetic to those who have less than you do, Annie."

"Oh I won't," I insisted. Surely Mother had instilled that in me from the time I was old enough to talk.

"No, I don't think you will." She smiled softly. "Try as he might, your daddy hasn't succeeded in spoiling you," she said, her eyes twinkling with love.

"Mother, will you ever tell me why you hate Tony Tatterton so much?" I swallowed and bit down hard on my tongue to prevent myself from telling her about Drake's letter and visit to Farthy.

"I don't hate him as much as I pity him, Annie," she said, her voice firm. "He may be one of the richest men on the East Coast, but he's apathetic creature as far as I'm concerned."

"But why?"

She stared at me. Could she look at me and see the things I already knew, the things Drake had written about and told me about on the phone? I had to shift my eyes away from hers, but the truth was, she wasn't looking at me; she was looking through me, looking at her own memories. I saw the way they turned and twisted her lips, narrowed her eyes, brought a smile and then a scowl to her face.

"Mother?"

"Annie," she replied, "a long time ago, someone once told me you trap yourself sometimes, by thinking desire and need is love. He was right. Love is something far e lore precious, but something far more fragile. As fragile as . . as one of our tiniest, most intricate, most delicately crafted toys. Hold on to it too tightly, and it will crumble in your fingers, but hold on to it too loosely, and the wind might blow it away and shatter it on the cold ground. Listen to the voice in your heart, Annie, but be absolutely sure the voice comes from your heart. Will you remember that, Annie?"

"Yes. But why are you telling me this? Does it have something to do with your life at Farthy?" I held my breath.

"Someday I'll tell you everything, Annie. I promise. It just isn't the time yet. Trust me, please."

"I trust you, Mother. More than anyone in the world." I couldn't help being disappointed. For so many years I had heard this promise. When would be the time? I was already eighteen years old, a fully grown woman. She had given me her most valuable diamonds, her most precious replica cottage. When would she give me the real story of her life?

"My Annie, my precious, precious, Annie." She hugged me to her and pressed her cheek against mine. Then she sighed and stood up. "Well, I haven't bought your aunt Fanny a birthday gift yet. Want to help me pick something out?"

"Yes. Luke's so upset about her party though."

"I know. Why we cater to her is a mystery to me. I don't underestimate your aunt Fanny. She talks like a hillbilly, but she's far from dumb. She makes us feel guilty before we have a chance to say no. There's no one else like her," she added shaking her head and smiling with amusement.

"Talk to her about Luke, Mother. Make her stop making him feel bad about going to Harvard."

"He was accepted?" Delight lifted her voice. "Yes. And with a full scholarship!"

"How wonderful!" She straightened into a flag of pride. "Another descendent of Grandpa Toby Casteel goes to Harvard," she announced as if to the whole town. Then her eyes softened. "Don't worry about Fanny. She will say and do something dramatic, but in her heart, she's proud of Luke, and I'm sure she will find some reason to pay him a visit and stroll over that campus like a queen."