“Mom,” Jenny said, as Joanna stopped with her finger on the light switch.

“What?”

“Will you ever get so mad at me that you’ll kick me out of the house?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, Kristin must have done something really awful for her parents to get that mad at her.”

“It wasn’t so very awful,” Joanna replied. “And it’s something a lot of people have done before her-your mother included.”

“Really? Whatever it is, you did it, too?”

“Yes. Good night, now. I told you it was none of your business.”

“Good night.”

Thoughtfully, Joanna went into her own bedroom and undressed. When she first lay down on the bed, she thought she would have a hard time falling asleep. But she didn’t. In fact, she fell asleep sooner that night than any night in recent memory.

Maybe it was because on that night she went to bed knowing that one way or the other, the long warfare with Eleanor Lathrop Winfield might finally be coming to an end. Well, maybe not a complete end, but at least Joanna could see the possibility of a truce.

Joanna’s eyes popped open with the sun, and her first thought on waking was, Three days to go. Most of the time she was able to compartmentalize her life enough that the wedding didn’t overwhelm her, but that morning it all seemed to be too much. No matter how hard she tried, she’d never get everything caught up at work. And the same was true at home. She’d never have the house in the kind of shape she wanted it to be in before Jim Bob and Eva Lou came to stay for a week to look after Jenny and the ranch while Joanna and Butch went off on their honeymoon.

And where were they going on their honeymoon anyway? Butch knew because he had made all the plans, but other than telling her she needed to have her passport in order, he had told Joanna nothing. Their destination remained top secret.

“But what kind of clothes am I supposed to pack?” she had asked.

“Minimal,” he had replied.

“What does that mean? Beachwear? What?”

He had shrugged. “Not beachwear,” he had said at last, relenting. “But again, I’d bring along as little as possible.”

By the time Joanna arrived in the kitchen, someone-Kristin, it turned out-was already in the shower. Joanna went out to feed and water the animals. When she had finished her chores and came inside, Kristin was already dressed for work.

“I’m on my way to meet Terry for breakfast,” she said. “I told him we’d better go early so neither one of us will be late for work.”

“Good,” Joanna said. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

“Much. I really did get a decent night’s sleep for a change.”

“And no morning sickness?” Joanna asked, thinking about the dreadful bouts of morning sickness that had almost hospitalized Marianne Maculyea during the early stages of her pregnancy.

“None.”

“You’re lucky then.”

A momentary shadow crossed Kristin’s face. “Right now, I don’t really feel very lucky,” she said.

“Well,” Joanna said. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

The extra shower had taxed Joanna’s aging hot-water heater. By the time Jenny emerged from the bathroom, Joanna had to settle for a very quick and barely lukewarm shower. On the way to work, Jenny seemed subdued.

“What’s wrong?” Joanna asked.

“Is it going to be very different?” Jenny asked.

“You mean after Butch and I get married?”

Jenny nodded.

“It’ll be different for all of us,” Joanna replied. “We’ll all have to learn to practice patience. Are you worried about it?”

“A little,” Jenny admitted.

“How come?”

“Last night when I went to bed, I thought about Kristin’s parents-about them throwing her out. I know you said you wouldn’t ever get so mad that you’d kick me out, but it could happen. What if you ended up loving Butch more than you love me? What if you had to choose?”

“Fortunately, I don’t think that’s something either one of us will have to worry about.” By then they had pulled up at the gates of Lowell School. “Go now,” Joanna urged. “Have a good day.”

Jenny made no effort to move or even open the door. “Where do I go after school?” she asked.

Joanna frowned. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember what Butch’s plans are for today. I think you’re supposed to go to his place, but if it turns out he’s busy with his folks, we may have to make some other arrangement.”

“See there?” Jenny asked, screwing up her face to keep from crying. “It’s already happening.”

“What’s already happening?”

“You’re not even married yet and you’re already forgetting about me. You can’t even remember who’s supposed to take care of me after school!”

Joanna shook her head. This was the same eleven-, almost twelve-year-old daughter who was always insisting that she should be treated as though she were several years older than her chronological age. And yet, when the chips were down and when Joanna could have used a real almost-teenager, she found herself dealing with a child who had suddenly regressed to a petulant seven or eight.

“Go to Butch’s,” Joanna said. “If that’s not going to work for some reason, I’ll call the principal’s office and have them send you a note.”

Jenny shook her head, climbed out of the car, slammed the door behind her, and then trudged off through the school gate with her head down and shoulders slumped. She looked so sad, hurt, and alone that Joanna’s heart ached for her. She wanted to leave the Blazer where it was, run after her daughter, and hold Jenny close in a reassuring hug, which Jenny probably wouldn’t have wanted either-not there in front of the school where all her classmates could see. Besides, a glance at her watch said there was no time for that. There was no time either to steal a brief visit with Butch in his remodeled Victorian a bare three blocks from Jenny’s school. Needing to hear his voice, Joanna called instead.

“So how’s the bride on three days and counting?” Butch asked cheerfully.

“Medium,” Joanna replied. “Jenny’s gone all teary and insecure on me. And it didn’t help matters that I couldn’t remember whether or not you were going to take care of her after school.”

“Let me look at the Gantt chart on my computer for a minute.”

“Gantt chart?” Joanna demanded. “What’s that?”

“You might call it a flowchart. It’s a graphical project timeline. I downloaded it into my computer from the Internet. It’s for keeping track of projects. It helps you make sure that all available resources are allocated properly. Since you put me in charge of logistics for this wedding, I live and die by my Gantt chart.

“Let’s see. Your brother and sister-in-law fly in from D.C. this afternoon. Your mother will meet them at the airport, and then they’re scheduled to have dinner with the Winfields. My folks want to take us out to eat tonight. It’ll just be the five of us-you, Jenny, me, and the two of them. We’ll probably go somewhere here in town. Mother had heard about the Copper Queen and wanted to eat there. I told her that would be fine.

“Tomorrow night will be the whole group of out-of-towners-sort of a pre-rehearsal-dinner dinner. I’m voting for pizza for that one-probably out at your place, since you have more room than I do. Friday’s the real rehearsal dinner and-”

“Stop,” Joanna interrupted. “It’s too much. Let’s just stick to one day at a time. All I want to know is yes or no-are you taking care of Jenny after school today?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s leave it at that. You can tell me everything else I need to know from the whatever-the-hell-it-is chart when I need to know it.”

“Gantt chart,” he repeated. “With two t‘s. But are you okay?” he asked after a pause. “You sound stressed.”

I am stressed! she wanted to shout at him. I’m stressed beyond bearing!