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"It really was such a big effort for them to get out of their activities. Alison had a test to study for; Brody had a big game. I decided it would be better to bring them another time. Don't worry," she said. "You'll meet eventually. Have you heard from your mother and brother?"

"Just Mama," I said and told her where she was living now and what Roy had done with himself.

"You should call her and let her know things are still going well here. I'm sure she's worried about you."

"I will," I said.

She gazed around, a soft smile replacing her tired, worried look.

"This is quite a house, isn't it? You're in my old room, right? I used to sit by the window late in the afternoon and watch the day darken." She embraced herself. "I felt so safe here. It was as if these were castle walls and there was a moat around the house. Nothing bad could happen to me. My father wouldn't permit it. He would run home if he heard there was a tear streaking my cheek. I don't know how many times I sat on his lap in his den and listened to him weave his dreams for me, all of them like little fairy tales.

"But," she said with a deep sigh, "you can't dream for other people. Once I went to school and made friends and saw the world that was on the other side of that moat, a world where people didn't live in fairy tales, things changed. I disappointed him in so many ways," she said sadly, "but it had to be."

"You and Victoria are so different. It's hard to believe you're related," I said.

She laughed.

"She's two years younger, but she acts like she's ten or twenty years older, I know. She's too serious. She always was. My father didn't pay as much attention to her as he did to me as she grew up, but later he seemed more comfortable around her than he was with me. She never challenged his preconceived ideas about people and business and the purpose to life. Still..." she said with hesitation.

"What?"

"I can count on my fingers how many times I saw him kiss her with any fatherly affection, while he rained kisses on me in torrents of love that left me giggling." She paused, recalling, her face filling with the pleasure of those memories. Then she grew sad. "No matter how content and self-sufficient Victoria portrays herself to be, I believe she felt cheated as a child. I really feel sorry for her."

"She'd hate to know it," I said.

My mother nodded and laughed.

"Still, I think she's jealous of me even though she calls my life all fluff. Well," she said standing, "I'd better start back. You can call me if anything happens or you need anything. Mother will be home by Sunday and the nurse, a Mrs. Griffin, will be with her."

I stood up and she beamed a smile full of sunshine at me.

"Somehow, just after meeting you for a short time, I was confident you would do well here. It didn't take you long to make the transition to a better life, to a world of opportunity. I guess your Mama was right. You can't deny the demands of blood. You're too much like me, like my mother, like my father, like the Hudsons."

"I'm not like Victoria," I insisted.

"Somehow I think that makes Victoria happy, too," she said and laughed. She hugged me once, and started out.

I hated to see her leave. I felt so unfulfilled. After the door closed behind her, I stood in the entryway for a moment. The silence in the great house surrounded me. I was even grateful for Merilyn's footsteps and whiny little voice asking me if I wanted the poached salmon or leftover turkey for dinner.

"Take a night off, Merilyn," I replied.

"What?"

"You can take the night off. I'll fix my own supper," I said.

"But I'm the cook and..."

"There's just little old me," I said with a smile.

"Very well. Do what you like," she said, "only be sure you clean up your mess, too."

She spun around and retreated to her quarters. I hurried upstairs to call Mama. She was happy to hear from me and happy to hear about the good things that were happening to me. I told her about Grandmother Hudson's operation and explained that the prognosis was good.

"I'm glad of that," she said. "I don't think your real mother would take you home with her if that woman died."

"It'll be all right, Mama," I said. For some reason now, I didn't want to be critical of my mother, even though I had every reason to be, even though I would always have every reason to be.

After a moment of silence, Mama told me about Ken. I sensed she had been debating keeping it a secret from me. "Ken's in trouble again," she said.