She smiled at him across the darkened porch. "Maybe. Not that any of that matters anymore. I have a new life. I've got to do what I need to so I can get back to New York and resume the life I've worked so hard to build."

Joe's voice was quiet, almost completely obliterated by the squeak of the swing. "Are you happy?"

His words surprised her. "Well, yes. Of course. Of course I am. I have a great job, making a great living. I live in one of the most exciting cities in the world. A highly intelligent man is crazy about me, and we're going to be married. How could I not be happy?"

He nodded in the darkness. "I see. Well, all I can wish for you is that you find the kind of happiness Harriet and I have had."

Cassie looked away, out across the front lawn to the lane of oaks. "I wish you would reconsider about the house. It has all the room you need for the kids. I would really rather not have to sell it."

He swiped a hand through the air at a flying insect that seemed intent on dive-bombing his sleeping daughter. "You do what you want, Cassie. It's your house. And when you're finished burning all your bridges, we'll still be here, waiting to help you back across."

The baby began to whimper as Joe stood and walked toward the front door. Before he shut it behind him, he called over his shoulder, "And don't lean on the railing. I couldn't get to sleep, so I entertained myself by painting it." The door shut softly behind him.

She looked down at her black skirt, a telltale white stripe glowing in the dim light. She moved back to the swing and sat down with a thump, the night around her alive with sounds and movement, slithering in the grass, and twinkling in the sky. Fingering the charms around her neck, she thought of her dead father and his house and the paint on her skirt, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So she sat on the swing and listened as the night sounds gave way to morning and the sun cracked the sky.

Cassie's eyes rebelled against her eyelids with every blink, regardless of how many cold water splashes she gave them from the sink. She stumbled out of the bathroom, tying her dark hair behind her with an elastic ponytail holder she had found on the bathroom counter.

"Good morning, Aunt Cassie."

Cassie looked down at a cross-legged Madison beaming brightly up at her.

She made her lips turn up to form a smile. "Morning, Madison. Going for a run. See you later."

Madison scrambled up, her long legs protruding from baby-doll pajamas. "Can I go with you?"

Cassie stifled a yawn. "Do you run regularly?"

Madison looked down, her big toe stabbing the carpet runner. "Well, kinda. In P.E. we run laps around the football field." She glanced up with wide-eyed enthusiasm. "But it would be fun with you. Would you wait a minute while I change?"

Cassie could think of a thousand reasons why she'd rather run alone but couldn't voice any in the face of Madison's eagerness. "Sure. But hurry, okay? I want to be done before the heat gets any worse. I'm not used to it."

Madison darted into the bathroom as Cassie looked at the small anniversary clock on the hallway table. Six o'clock. Andrew would just be getting to the office. He liked to have it all to himself for the first couple of hours of the day. He had made it clear that even Cassie wasn't welcome that early in the morning, She forgave him, realizing it probably had to do with his circumstances as an only child that made him crave the solitude he so rarely found in his busy life.

Feeling antsy to get going but realizing she had time to kill while she waited, Cassie descended the stairs. She stepped on one tread at a time, like a small child, postponing the inevitable as long as she could. Crossing the foyer, she went into her father's study and sat at his desk. As she dialed Andrew's number, she looked at the twenty or so frames backing the enormous desk. There were several of the grandchildren, one of Harriet and Joe with their entire brood, a few of her mother, and an old black-and-white of her parents next to his old MG. But the majority of them were of her and Harriet as children. She listened to the ringing tone as she stared at the age progression of her pictures, ending abruptly with her high-school-senior photo.

She set the phone back in the cradle and picked up the picture, staring at a girl she hardly recognized. Cassie couldn't decide which was worse: the winged bangs of her hair framing the full face and thick glasses or the prominent braces on her teeth. Even her shirt was an embarrassment. Taken at the height of the preppy look, the wide-collared blouse had whales swimming all over it. She glanced briefly at Harriet's senior photo, taken in her cheerleading outfit, her beautiful blond hair spilling over her shoulders, and slipped her own photo upside down in the top desk drawer, closing it with a soft thud.

Picking up the phone again, she dialed Andrew's number. This time he answered on the first ring.

"Hi, Andrew. It's me."

"Cassandra? It doesn't sound like you. You've, um, sort of picked up an accent, I think."

She found herself frowning, disappointed that those would be his first words to her. "Don't worry. I'm sure it's temporary."

"So, how are you? How's your dad? I called a couple of times and left a message with somebody called Lucinda. Man! Talk about somebody who needs speech therapy. I could hardly grasp what she was saying. Might as well have been speaking Russian, for all I understood."

The staccato beat of fingers on a computer keyboard shot through the phone line to Cassie's ear. She bit her lower lip before speaking. "That's my father's sister. The one who raised me and Harriet when our mom died and has been a sort of surrogate mother ever since."

There was a short pause, filled with the clacking noise. "Oh. Well, I'm sure she's very nice. Did she give you the message that I called?"

"Yes. I, um, just haven't really had a chance to call you. Daddy . . . my father died. We buried him yesterday."

The key tapping stopped. "I'm sorry, Cassandra. I'm glad you made it in time. You know, to see him before he died."

The tapping resumed, accompanied by the sound of a computer modem buzzing in the background. She blinked rapidly, feeling the familiar sting. "Yeah. Me, too. But there's been some, um, developments, which is why I didn't call you back right away. I wanted to make sure that I had explored all my options first."

"I see. What kind of developments?"

Cassie leaned back in her father's chair, curling the telephone cord around her hand. "Well, it seems I've inherited this house and just about everything in it. Neither Lucinda nor Harriet want it, so I'm kind of stuck for the time being."

"Sell it."

Cassie's gaze strayed through the large doorway and up the stairwell, lingering on the old portraits of her ancestors, wondering if she was only imagining the frown from Great-great-great-grandfather Madison. "Well, sure, I could sell it. Which is what I'll probably have to do. But this house has been owned by my family since the 1840s. It'll be a major decision. Not to mention the fact that I'll need to go through everything in the house-especially the attic, which I don't think has been touched in over fifty years."

A fax machine beeped in Cassie's ear before Andrew spoke again. "Why don't you just call a realtor and then hire one of those compa-nies that goes in and gets rid of clutter for you? Then you can be back here within a week."

Madison, wearing gym shorts and sneakers, clambered down the stairs. Cassie waved, noting that the color of Madison's shorts and shirt matched her own. "Andrew, I don't know. I . . . I don't think I can do that."

Andrew sighed into the phone. "Why not? Our clients need you up here. I need you up here. I miss you."

Cassie turned her face away from Madison, who was now sliding her back down the doorframe until her bottom hit the floor. Quietly, Cassie spoke into the receiver. "I know. I miss you, too. Just give me a week and I'll call you back. I'm sure I'll have things sorted out by then."

"I hope so. I don't like it when you're gone. The bed seems too big."

Cassie smiled. "I bet. Maybe you should move to the twin bed in the guest room."

Andrew didn't laugh. "Come back soon."

"I'll try," Cassie whispered into the phone before hanging up. She kept her hand on the phone, wondering for a long moment why neither one of them had mentioned the word love.

She looked up and found herself staring into Madison's wide green eyes. "Was that your boyfriend?"

Cassie stood, untangling the phone cord from her hand. "That was my fiance. We're engaged."

Madison drew her tanned legs up in front of her, resting her elbows on her knees and cupping her chin in her palms. "Is he handsome?"

As if she hadn't thought about it in a while, Cassie wrinkled her brow. "Well, yes. He is. Very, as a matter of fact."

"Do you spend lots of time walking in Central Park and holding hands?"

Cassie frowned, trying to remember if she and Andrew had ever held hands. Probably not, since the only time they ever walked anywhere together was home from work when their hands were filled with briefcases and takeout bags.

"We're usually very busy at the advertising agency that Andrew owns. We have plans for a romantic getaway once things settle down a bit, but there just doesn't seem to be the time right now."

Madison rocked her chin in the cradle of her hands. "When do we get to meet him?"

Cassie pushed against the edge of the desk and stretched her hamstrings. "Oh. Um. I don't know. He's so busy at the agency- especially with me being gone-that it's just about impossible for him to come down here. . . ."

Madison slid out from the doorway and sat in a V. Stretching her fingertips to her toes, she gasped out, "Mama said something about throwing you a wedding shower. Maybe he'll come down for that."

Cassie's eyebrows shot up. "A shower? Oh, I don't think I'll be here long enough for that. . . ."

Madison continued to stretch as if she hadn't heard her aunt speak. "Mama's real excited, but I think it's supposed to be a surprise, so don't go and say anything to her." She stood and began to stretch her hamstrings against the knobbed newel post in the foyer. "So what do you and Mr. Handsome do for fun in New York City?"

"Oh, we, um, well, we went to a play once-Les Miserables. I'm sure we'll do more of that once we can hire some more people at the agency, but right now we're just so overwhelmed, it's kind of hard to find leisure time." Cassie switched legs and began to stretch the other hamstring. "We do go out to eat at nice restaurants quite often, but we're always with clients, so I don't think you'd count that as being fun."

Madison bent to tighten her shoelaces. "Do you think it's fun?" She tilted her head to the side.

Cassie raised her hands over her head and leaned toward one side. "Well, sure. It's fun. I mean, what could be better than mixing great food with business?"

Madison stood still for a moment. "Oh."

Cassie held open the front door and watched as her niece preceded her out onto the porch. With a giant leap, Cassie was off and running down the driveway at a brisk pace. She looked behind her to make sure Madison could keep up. Her niece's long legs easily overtook her, forcing Cassie to push harder. They ran in silence for a while, jumping over the large cracks in the sidewalks, dodging out into the street to avoid the fat fists of crepe myrtles and hydrangea blossoms dangling over the pathway. Madison waved to every car they passed, receiving nods and waving hands in return. She paused at the broken walkway to a large Victorian on the corner, jogging in place as she addressed the diminutive figure in a rocking chair on the porch. Cassie stopped beside her, trying not to let Madison hear her gasping for breath.

It didn't even sound as if Madison had been running. "Good morning, Miss Lena. Read any good books lately?"

The old lady grinned a toothless grin, her bespectacled eyes reflecting the blue sky. She held up a paperback novel with a cover depicting two lovers in a near-naked embrace. "I'm just getting to the juicy part. She just saw his wicked manhood for the first time."

Cassie shot a shocked glance at Madison, but the younger girl merely waved at the old lady and took off again.

Cassie shook her head, trying not to laugh and use more breath than necessary. The humidity had crept up on her slowly, and she was already struggling to keep up with the young teenager. "Holy shit! Miss Lena taught my Sunday school in tenth grade-and her daddy used to be the preacher at the Walton First Baptist. What happened?"

Madison scrunched up her nose. "Her sister in Mobile runs her church library. She sends Miss Lena all the donated books she can't use. She reads the same ones over and over because she doesn't remember them."

"Is she still teaching Sunday school?"

Madison nodded and wiped a drip of sweat off her cheek. "Never misses a Sunday. But she's only an assistant teacher now. She mostly just stands in the front of the class and smiles. Her mind wanders in and out of reality, but she doesn't want to go into a home. We all pretty much take care of her now." Madison paused for a moment, taking deep breaths as their sneakers pounded the sidewalk. "Mama takes turns with the other ladies to bring her dinner and stuff."

They ran down Madison Lane and crossed Orchard; an ancient oak towering over the intersection from the Hardens' front lawn blocked the stop sign. A rope swing hung from a high branch, and a small child stood under it, trying to jump high enough to grab hold. The little girl waved to Madison as they passed, and Madison sent her a grin.

Cassie, struggling to breathe, forced out a question. "Do the Hardens still live there? I remember . . . swinging on the same . . . swing."

Madison shook her head. "Mr. and Mrs. Harden sold their house to their daughter, Mary Jane, and moved to Florida. Did you know her?"

Cassie could only nod, not wanting to squander an ounce of air. She remembered Mary Jane Harden. They had been best friends from kindergarten all the way through their second year of junior college. At least they were until Cassie met Joe and everyone else in her life took a backseat in her affections. And then Cassie had left town, cutting all ties. It now seemed so stupid to have deliberately lost contact with Mary Jane, too. Cassie shook her head, sweat dripping off her forehead and falling on her arms. Maybe she'd look up her old friend while she was in Walton. She doubted they still had anything in common, but it would be nice to see her.

They continued down Madison Lane until they reached Walnut and headed east toward Main Street and the town square. Even Cassie had to admit that the downtown area held a certain charm. The tall brick storefronts, with window boxes, bright awnings, and large picture windows, were timeless in their appeal. Diagonal parking spaces jut-ted out from the sides of the wide sidewalk like legs on a centipede crawling up Main Street. The courthouse towered over the square at the intersection of Main and Monroe Avenue, the neatly trimmed grass complemented by the requisite Confederate monument and another statue on the opposite end.

Cassie jogged toward the other statue before stopping completely, the heat and humidity having taken their toll. She slumped over, her hands on her slippery knees, and looked up at the odd piece of statuary. "Oh, my God," she panted out.

Madison slowed to a stop beside her and stared up at the scaled-down replica of the Statue of Liberty. "Does it look like the real thing?"

Cassie straightened, adjusting her sweatband on her forehead. "Not . . . quite." She examined the wooden head of the thing, recalling how it had been carved with a chain saw from a stump pulled out of a nearby swamp. The upraised arm looked as if it had been made of Styrofoam, and the hand holding the torch was undoubtedly an oversized electrician lineman's glove. The whole thing had been painted a softly glowing green. She shook her head, remembering the parade, flag-waving, and convertibles carrying veterans through the streets of downtown the day the statue was dedicated by the proud men of the Lions Club. "I somehow don't remember thinking it was so hideous when I was seven."

Madison squinted in the sun. "It's really pretty stupid looking, isn't it?"

Cassie studied her niece, the small furrow deepening between her eyebrows, and felt a sharp arrow of guilt slice through her. Madison looked as if she had just discovered her father instead of a jolly old elf stuffing the Christmas stockings.

Cassie sat down on the small ledge at the base of Miss Liberty and searched for the words she needed to say. "You know what, Madison? What those men who erected this statue lacked in sophistication, they certainly made up for in enthusiasm." Cassie stared out over the town square toward the courthouse, remembering an old army veteran on the steps giving a speech about what this statue repre-sented and how proud they all were to have a small piece of it here in Walton. She gave her niece a rueful grin. "You don't really see much of that anymore."

A familiar truck pulled into a parking space on the square, and Cassie stood. "Hey, at least it's not that statue over in Plains. You know-the world's largest peanut in the shape of Jimmy Carter. Now that's embarrassing."

Madison grinned, then shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah. I guess it could be worse."

They both turned their attention to the truck as two people climbed out. Cassie squinted, holding her hand over her forehead to block the sun. She spotted Sam and a woman pulling long garlands of something green out from the bed of the truck. The couple then approached the two runners, their arms wrapped around the greenery.

As they got closer, the woman smiled at Cassie. "Bet you don't remember me."

It was the smile that Cassie recognized. The smile with the dimple in the left cheek-cheeks that were thinner now, set below a head of hair that was shorter and blonder, too.

Cassie smiled back. "Mary Jane Harden-of course I recognize you. We just ran past your parents' house and saw some kids swinging on the tree swing. Are they yours?"

Mary Jane shot a quick glance at Sam and shook her head. "No. Don't have any kids. Not married-yet. Those were my brother's. He and his wife are visiting for a couple of weeks."

"Stinky got married? You're kidding!" Cassie pictured the roly-poly younger brother of her old friend, his nose always stuck in action-hero comic books and trailing a scent of old sweat because of his penchant for avoiding baths.

Mary Jane nodded. "Yep. But we don't call him Stinky anymore. He's changed a lot. Actually takes baths now."

They all laughed as Mary Jane and Sam dropped their burdens.

Mary Jane sobered quickly. "I'm sorry about your father, Cassie. I wanted to come to the funeral, but one of us had to stay at the clinic."

Cassie tilted her head in question, and Mary Jane smiled. "I'm Sam's nurse and general office gofer. We run the clinic together- along with a few rotating doctors and nurses from Providence Hospital in Monroe."

"Oh, I see." She pulled her soaking shirt away from her midriff, suddenly self-conscious about her appearance. "It's great seeing you-and I'd give you a hug if I weren't so sweaty. I hope we'll have time to talk before I leave."

The other woman frowned. "You're not planning on leaving soon, are you?"

Sam shifted, but Cassie didn't look at him. "Not today, anyway. But as soon as I get everything settled."

"Are you staying at your father's house?"

Cassie nodded.

"Good. I'll call you, and we'll go have lunch at the Dixie Diner- just like old times. We'll do some catching up."

Cassie watched as Madison picked up a branch that strongly resembled a kudzu vine. "Great. That'll be fun." Cassie stepped back. "Madison, what is that?"

Sam reached down and picked up an end, his long fingers fiddling with an oversized heart-shaped leaf. "It's kudzu. Surely you haven't forgotten what it looks like?"

She stuck out her chin. "I know what it is, I just wanted to know why it's here."

Mary Jane chipped in. "It's for the Kudzu Festival. It's coming up, and Sam and I are on the decorating committee." She smiled up at Sam and touched his arm. Cassie studied Mary Jane with a critical eye, noting the plain khaki shorts, sandals, and button-down cotton shirt-the same dull, figure-evading clothes they had both worn in high school.

Cassie pointed to a green strand. "Won't that stuff die in two weeks?"