"You like California, though, right?"

"Oh, sure. I love it. That's why I'm still there. But a lot of people do go back home, later, after they're over being impulsive, angry or whatever it is that drove them away in the first place."

"What drove you away?" Sarah asked.

"That was something I couldn't have answered for most of my life. At the time, I thought I was just playing follow the leader, the leader being my best friend Peggy. She was going to California, so I wanted to go too."

"But?"

"I think it was fear of failure. Your grandfather is a brilliant man, which you may not see so much when you're sitting in a fishing boat watching him sleeping under his hat. He always put a lot of pressure on us to accomplish something. There was never any question about all three of us being college graduates. It was so thoroughly understood that I don't think any of us ever imagined not doing it. I know I didn't. Your father did excel, as expected.

He was a science whiz, just like your grandfather. I looked up to him all through my childhood as the model of what Dad wanted from us. He was about to graduate from college when I was graduating from high school and I just couldn't imagine doing as well as he did. I always thought of myself as average. That wasn't tolerated in our family."

"Average?" Sarah looked shocked. "You? No way."

Harper nodded, amused by the disbelief. "So I left. Nobody could watch me from way over here. Nobody would know if I screwed up."

"And that's why you left?"

"Well, that and a little bit of the other too. I think I was sort of in love with Peggy, but I didn't know it."

Sarah smiled. "I guess it worked out okay."

"It usually does. Sometimes we think everything hinges on some decision that we make at some crossroad, as if one choice will lead us to success and happiness and the other to utter destruction, but I don't really think most decisions in life are that critical. I think it usually ends up okay, whichever way we go."

Sarah, her face tinted pink from the setting sun, looked Harper in the eye and said, "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No. Just making conversation."

Harper had been chewing on an idea for a while, something she'd kept to herself because it was unformed and she was unsure.

But it seemed to be taking a concrete shape now in her mind, so she decided to explore it further. "Do you have any particular college that you feel compelled to go to?"

"Not really. Wheaton is the default, of course. Mom went there. It seems okay."

"What about Berkeley?"

"Berkeley? You mean, your Berkeley?"

Harper nodded. "What if you applied to Berkeley this coming year, and maybe San Francisco as a backup? If you work hard and really want it, you can turn yourself into a desirable commodity.

If you didn't get accepted right away, you could start at one of the California state colleges and then transfer as a resident after a year or two."

"A resident? Aunt Harper, what are you talking about?"

"I'm inviting you to come live with me while you go to college."

There, she'd said it. Sarah didn't go running off screaming to her mother like she had two years ago when Harper had invited her to visit. She sat calmly where she was and gazed thoughtfully at her aunt.

"Why would you do that?" she finally asked.

"Oh, you know. Education is important. It will make a big difference in your life. I want to see you fulfill your dreams."

Sarah looked away, looked out across the lake, her eyes moist.

"Wow," she said quietly.

"It's an option," Harper said. "Think about it."

As Harper moved to stand, Sarah turned to her and threw her arms around Harper's neck, hugging her tightly.

It was only on her way back to the house that Harper thought about the ramifications of her plan. She called Chelsea and told her what she had just done.

"Are you serious?" Chelsea asked. "You'd have to be her mother, you know. You couldn't let her run amok like you did for the last month. It would be a big responsibility, an investment of time and money and peace of mind."

"No, I know that. I'm sure there would be problems. But I think it would be worth it."

"It's an incredible gift you're offering her. Do you think she'll accept?"

"I don't know. She might."

"That's a very generous thing to do."

"Well, her parents do have a college fund for her. It would come with her, I'm pretty sure."

"No, that's not what I meant. I meant it's generous in terms of sharing your life."

"I suppose," Harper said. "What about you? How do you feel about it?"

"Uh, I don't know," Chelsea said. "If you want to do it, that's great. I think it's cool that you feel this strongly about her future.

Unexpected, but cool."

Harper didn't ask again because she didn't know how to say what she was really trying to ask. She was reminded that Chelsea had been anxious to see Sarah leave after only a month. She wanted to know if she and Chelsea could have a life together if they opened their home to a college student, this particular college student. To ask such a question, though, meant asking so many other questions by implication. She would have to talk about the future and she didn't know how to do that. Sarah wouldn't start college for another year. Perhaps Chelsea didn't see this as her issue. Perhaps she didn't see herself in Harper's life a year from now.

"Love you," Chelsea said as they prepared to hang up.

"Love you too," Harper said, a wave of sadness washing over her. "Talk to you tomorrow."

Chapter 32.

JULY 30.

After lunch, Neil and family piled into their car. Sarah stuck her head out the back window, saying her goodbyes. She had promised Harper to work hard on grades and extracurricular activities and to apply to Berkeley and a couple of state colleges and even Morrison, if her parents thought they could afford it.

Neil and Kathy had been skeptical of the plan at first, but after they discussed it for a while and Harper had made certain concessions regarding rules, they had agreed that it might be the only way Sarah would ever get her degree. Sarah herself had gotten quite excited about the idea overnight. Harper had too, thinking about teaching Sarah how to play the piano and sharing her favorite books with her. Harper didn't know if it would actually happen, but she hoped it would. The more she considered the plan, the more she wanted to be the one to guide Sarah through college.

She had so much potential, but she was unfocused and needed nurturing. Harper thought she could do that, that Sarah would continue to listen to her and learn from her.

After they were gone, the house became hushed, even more so than before Neil and Kathy's arrival. Harper's parents appeared to be worn out. Both of them lapsed into partial hibernation, her father reading a magazine, her mother watching television and hemming a skirt. Harper decided to make dinner and give her mother a break and was surprised that her mother so easily surrendered the task. "Thank you, dear," she said without protest.

After dinner, Harper did the dishes, struggling with one stubborn pot that wouldn't come clean. She searched the kitchen drawers and cupboards for a scouring pad but couldn't find anything useful. Looking for her mother, she went to the family room where Danny lay on the sofa, dressed only in cutoff jeans, his eyes on the television.

"What are you watching?" Harper asked.

"Reruns of Golden Girls. They're having a marathon. This is the one where the girls are mistaken for prostitutes and hauled off to jail. Hilarious."

"Are you sure you're not gay?"

"I was planning on it, but there's only one allowed per family, and since you're older, you've got dibs." He grinned. "Wanna watch?"

"Maybe later. I'm not done in the kitchen."

"Oh. I guess I should have offered to help you tonight, huh?"

"No, no, dear brother." She patted his head. "Tomorrow is your turn, and I wouldn't dream of interfering then."

He frowned. "By the way, Sis, excellent meal. We don't get California cuisine here often."

"Yankee pot roast?" She slapped at him playfully. "That's what Mom had thawed out. Tomorrow I'm going to the store. Mom and Dad should be eating more fish and green vegetables. I don't know why they don't have a vegetable garden here anymore.

Where's Mom anyway?"

"I think she's in the rumpus room." Danny launched himself to the arm of the couch, facing her. "If it's my turn to cook tomorrow, we're going to have an old-fashioned clambake on the beach. I'll bring the guitar and you can serenade us."

"Peachy-keen, bro," she said. "Let's get up early and dig those clams. Man, I dig those clams, man." Harper, dancing in place, took her brother's hand as he pushed off the couch. He twirled her, both of them singing, "Man, I dig those clams, man, I dig those clams, man."

"It's been great having you here, sis," he said, letting go of her hand. "Even when I can keep Mom and Dad awake past eight o'clock, they still aren't very lively. Although they will consent to an occasional bout of Scrabble."

Harper kissed Danny's cheek. "I love you too, my beamish boy."

She danced out of the room, singing, "Man, I dig those clams, man."

Opening the door to the rumpus room, Harper saw her mother seated at a long table on the other side of the exercise bicycle. Alice looked up as Harper entered the room. She wore a pair of glasses with a magnifying lens attached to the left side.

Her hair was held captive by four mismatched clips, keeping it securely out of her face. In her hand was a thin paintbrush.

A porcelain thimble stood on a small platform connected to a movable metal arm. Alice removed her glasses and looked up inquiringly.

"Sorry to bother you, Mom," Harper said, approaching. "I was looking for a scouring pad for one of the pots. Do we have any?"

"Yes. I think there are some in the right-hand drawer on the back porch. Check there, dear."

"Thanks. Do you mind if I look at your collection?"

"No, of course not. Most of these are new. Next month we'll be selling them at the bazaar."

On a shelf near the window were scattered a dozen thimbles.

Harper approached the shelf with curiosity. She had seen these before or their predecessors anyway.

"Keep working," she instructed her mother. "I'll leave you alone in just a minute."

Alice put her glasses back on while Harper examined the tiny paintings. She saw that many of them contained elaborate scenes. Some were Biblical, some scenes from nature, some floral patterns. One was an intricate seascape, so carefully detailed that Harper recognized a sea star and conch in the sand of the beach.

Harper held a thimble with an intricate design of several shades of green on white. After peering at the design for a moment, she determined that it was an ivy vine, originating from one side at the base and branching out over the top and all sides of the thimble. On the side where the branches were small and thickest, a pair of brown eyes peered from behind them, perfect brown eyes with flecks of gold, partially hidden by branches. How intriguing, Harper thought.

These little bits of paint and glass were magnificent, she decided. She turned, filled with enthusiasm, to tell her mother.

Alice sat concentrating on the fine touches of the paintbrush, her movements so slow and so minute that she seemed almost motionless. Her mouth was shut tightly, her left hand pressed against the table to moor her body against the destructive twitch.

Harper watched with wonder. Not until the brush lifted from the thimble to be daubed onto the palette did she dare to speak.

"Mother," she said, breathless, "these are so beautiful. It must be very difficult."

Alice put down her brush and removed her glasses. "It is. It takes a long time to do one. If I was younger, it would be easier.

I can't see as well as I used to, and my hand isn't as steady as it should be. I move very slowly."

"They're masterpieces. Each one is a masterpiece."

"Oh, Harper, for heaven's sake, don't be so melodramatic."

"But it's true. Oh, Mom, can I please have one?"

"Well, sure. Take whichever one you want."

"Could you pick one out for me? It would be more special that way."

"I suppose so." Alice got up and approached the shelf. After a moment of scrutiny, she picked up a thimble and handed it over.

"How about this one?"

Harper examined it. There was a girl dressed in blue, standing in air, playing a lyre of gold with silver strings. The music emanating from it took the form of an undulating river of silver and gold that circled the thimble several times. At the end of the river, on the top of the thimble, was a perfect blue sphere outlined in the gold and silver of the river. "I call this one Harmony," Alice explained. "Do you like it?"

Harper threw her arms around her mother and said, "I love it." Alice returned to her chair and resumed her work. Harper peered at her thimble, absorbing its details. This was not a simple hobby, she thought. Her mother was an artist after all! How could she have dismissed her mother's art? Sitting with her brush in hand, these glorious scenes in her head, she let the life force that was in her come out in a tiny stream of paint on porcelain. The creative spark burned within her and flourished.

Harper, struck with an idea, ran from the room. Danny still lounged on the sofa, now eating little cheese-flavored fish.

"Danny," she said, startling him. One of the fish fell on the floor. "Where's your video camera?"