"In my room," he answered, tossing a fish into the air and catching it in his mouth. "On the dresser. Why?"

"Can I borrow it?"

"I guess so."

She found the camera and returned to the rumpus room where her mother greeted her with slight irritation.

"Mom," she explained, "I want to shoot you working. And then I'd like to interview you about your art. It's a thing I do.

Biographical videos of women artists."

"I'm not somebody like that, Harper. Nobody's heard of me.

They're just thimbles."

"Please, Mom, I really want to do this."

After a few minutes of arguing, Harper prevailed. She filmed her mother busy at her work, filmed her self-conscious discussion about how she got interested in thimble painting, how many she had done, what happened to them, where the ideas came from and, once Alice got involved in the interview and relaxed, a couple of anecdotes about particular thimbles. Harper managed to keep her talking for a good half hour, which wasn't easy because it was obvious that Alice hadn't ever discussed this with anyone before and didn't have much insight into the why or the how of her art.

She was accustomed to just saying "Thank you so much" when someone praised an individual thimble and that was it.

The next day, after digging clams, Harper went into town and coaxed Father Thomas and two church women into being interviewed, videotaping their praises of Alice's thimble art.

"Alice's thimbles are legendary around here," Father Thomas said. "And we always sell out."

All three of the interviewees had purchased one of the thimbles themselves, which they displayed for the camera, each one an incredibly vibrant testimonial to the creative force.

Harper burned all of these interviews onto a CD to take home with her. Already she was hearing music in her head that would accompany the footage.

This wouldn't be for her documentary series, obviously. It was for herself. She had discovered something new about her mother. This discovery made her think that she might not know her mother as well as she had thought. The fact that Alice Caitlin Harper Sheridan didn't talk much about her dreams and flights of fancy didn't mean that she didn't have any. For some reason, she had always accepted her mother at face value only. She did that a lot, she realized. She had always had a problem seeing below the surface of people and situations or, rather, imagining below the surface. She didn't much question things, just accepted them.

This characteristic had led her down many interesting paths, some productive, some not. Perhaps it was time, she thought, to push herself past this limitation, to cultivate a more critical approach to life.

0.

Chapter 33.

AUGUST 6.

"Harper!" cried Peggy over the phone. "Is it really you? Your mother told me you would be coming to visit this summer."

"I come every summer. I'm just around the corner," Harper said. "I was wondering if I could come over and say hi."

"Sure! It's been a long time. You won't recognize me. I can't wait to see you."

The enthusiasm of Peggy's response quelled any fears Harper had about lingering grudges. As soon as she hung up the phone, she changed into her sneakers and set out for Peggy's house, just as she had done hundreds of times as a teenager.

The woman who opened the door was short and petite with a kind expression and ruddy cheeks. "Hi," she said, smiling warmly.

"I'm Chris."

Harper shook her hand and came inside.

"Peg's mentioned you many times over the years," Chris said, "so it's good to finally meet you."

Chris called Peggy, who came in from the kitchen, a fuller-figured version of her teenage self. Harper recognized her immediately, however. Her eyes, mouth and facial expression were quintessentially Peggy. Her auburn hair was now cut quite short, which gave her an impish look. When she saw Harper, her eyes lit up and she reached out for her, hugging her tightly. Then they both stood grinning at one another.

"I'll let you two talk," Chris said. "I'll check in on Kate. She's probably wondering where her dinner is."

Peggy led Harper to the family room, where they sat on the sofa. "Wow," Peggy said, "you don't look much different. Other than being older, of course."

"I just turned thirty-nine," Harper said, as if she couldn't believe it herself.

"I know how old you are, silly. We're the same age."

"Yes, of course we are! So tell me everything you've done since college."

Their conversation was lighthearted and lively as they recounted the intervening years since they had last seen one another. Peggy had settled in San Jose and had left a successful career to return to the Cape to care for her mother.

Chris brought them each a crab salad and turned on some lights, as it was now getting dark out. "Thanks, honey," Peggy said, her gaze washing fondly over Chris.

She's happy, Harper thought, feeling grateful and relieved.

This was not something she had to feel guilty about any longer.

"To think that we've been just a few miles from one another all of these years," Peggy marveled, sampling her salad. "We should have kept in touch."

"It's not too late. We can make a point of getting together during my summer visits."

"Yes, we can. And while you're here this year, let's plan something. Chris, me, you and Danny. The four of us can go to a concert or up to Baker Point for the day or something."

"That would be fun. This crab is delicious."

"I caught it myself," Chris said, proudly. "I'm learning how to be a New Englander." She twirled around once on her toes like a ballerina, then returned to the kitchen.

"She seems really nice," Harper said.

"She's wonderful. We've been together nearly ten years."

"Congratulations. Is she okay with living here, then?"

"Oh, sure. She wasn't sure at first that she'd like it here, but she's adjusting. I promised her we could go back to California if we want to in a few years. Depending on Mom, you know. We could take her with us too. It's just harder for an older person to uproot."

"Peggy," Harper asked, "why did you want to go to California in the first place? I know you said you wanted to get as far from your family as possible, but I never understood that. I always thought you got along okay with your parents."

"Well, I did, and I wanted to keep it that way. My mother was nothing like yours, Harper. She couldn't have stomached it, the humiliation, the guilt, the despair even. As it was, I barely left in time. People were already talking. I couldn't have lived here. It would have destroyed my parents. Mother, anyway."

"You mean you went to California because you were gay?"

"Right. You hadn't figured that out yet?"

"I didn't know you knew it before college. You had boyfriends."

Peggy laughed. "Well, sure. That's just what a girl does in high school, while figuring things out. After all, you have to have somebody to take you to the prom. By the time I left home, I knew it absolutely, though. I thought you knew it too, on some level."

"I was pretty dense."

"Maybe it was something you didn't want to know. After all, we were such good friends before Nate's party."

"I was really sorry for hurting your feelings," Harper said. "I was afraid you might still be hurt and wouldn't want to see me, even now."

Peggy tossed her head. "No, no," she said, "it wasn't your fault. I never blamed you for being straight. My God, how could I? And I really didn't pine over it that much, Harper. Once you and Eliot got together, I just moved on. You were the one who avoided me, if you remember. I don't blame you for being uncomfortable, though. But, when it comes right down to it, it wasn't that big a deal. Right?"

Harper nodded. "Right," she said. "Seemed like it at the time, though."

"To me too. I was devastated. But that's the way it is with nineteen-year-olds. By the way, what ever happened to Eliot?"

"Ah, well," Harper said, "we lived together for a while during graduate school, and then we both got jobs, me in California, he in Washington."

"So you broke up, then, after college?"

"We didn't quite break up. We kept up a sort of part-time relationship. We saw each other in summers. Occasionally we got together other times of the year, but mainly in summer."

"Oh, really. For how long did you try to keep that up?"

"Until two years ago, actually."

Peggy stared in disbelief. "What! You and Eliot were together until two years ago?"

Harper nodded. "We both saw other people during the school year. It seemed to work for us for quite a while."

"Wow, how absolutely Seventies chic. Then what made it stop working after all that time?"

Chris returned with a bottle of wine and glasses on a tray.

Harper opened her cell phone case and pulled out Chelsea's picture. She handed it to Peggy, who looked thoughtfully at it. Then Peggy looked up and sighed. She shook her head and handed the photo to Chris.

"Who's this?" Chris asked.

"Harper's girlfriend," Peggy said matter-of-factly.

Chris, surprised, turned her gaze to Harper. "I thought you said she was straight."

"She thought she was," Peggy explained.

Chris handed the photo back to Harper.

"You never were what we would call a quick study," Peggy joked. "I guess you're like the tortoise. You do get there eventually."

"And, like the tortoise," Chris added, "it looks like you won the trophy. That girl is hot."

"Yes, she is," Harper agreed.

Chris put three glasses on the coffee table. "Would you like some wine?"

"Sure."

Chris filled the glasses, then sat on the floor next to Peggy, draping her arm over Peggy's knees.

"Did you keep in touch with Nate?" Harper asked.

"Yes, I did, actually. I've seen him from time to time. Sweet guy. He's gay too."

"No!"

Peggy nodded, then turned to Chris and said, "Is this reminiscing boring you, honey?"

"No, no. It's always interesting to meet your lover's first objet d'amour." Chris raised her glass to Harper.

"But you," Peggy said, placing a hand on Chris's shoulder, "are my last."

They looked natural together, a compatible and comfortable couple.

"To prove it," Chris said, "we're getting married this fall."

"Yes!" Peggy said. "Too bad you won't be here then, Harper.

You could come."

"I could make a special trip," Harper suggested. "Send me an invitation. I'll do my best to come."

"Tell us all about your girlfriend," Peggy said. "And don't leave out anything."

When the wine was gone and Harper was more or less caught up to the present, she asked to see Peggy's mother. Kate was sitting in an armchair in her bedroom, watching television.

She didn't remember who Harper was, but she was friendly. She seemed pleased to have a visitor. She had grown smaller and pale, and her eyes didn't focus very well. Harper chatted with her for several minutes before taking hold of her hand and saying, "I'll be going now. It was nice to see you again, Kate."

"Thank you for coming," she said to Harper, and then, looking around the room, said, "Where's Chris? She was going to bring me some milk."

"I'll remind her," Harper said before leaving. It was interesting, she thought, that Chris had become the most important person in Kate's life. She wasn't a relative and at one time she had been entirely objectionable, but now she was indispensable and possibly the last person Kate would be able to recognize.