"And therefore verboten as far as she was concerned," Andrew interjected.

"That's right. But why are you bringing this up now?"

"I think that man might be your father."

I gaped at him. I was so taken aback I was momentarily speechless. Quickly I found my voice. "That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard, Andrew. What on earth makes you think such a thing all of a sudden?" I knew he had to have a good reason for this comment, since my husband was not given to flights of fancy, and least of all where his mother was concerned.

Clearing his throat, he explained, "Last Tuesday morning, after you'd gone out and just before I left for Chicago, I asked my mother if she could change a hundred-dollar bill for me. She told me to get her wallet out of her handbag in her bedroom. So I did, but there was an envelope caught in the flap and it fell to the floor. When I picked it up I couldn't help noticing your father's name on the back and his return address in Jerusalem. I thought it a bit odd that he was writing to my mother. Anyway, I put the envelope back in her bag and took the wallet to her. Obviously I didn't say anything. How could I?"

I sat back in my chair, frowning. "It does seem strange," I murmured. "But it might be quite innocent."

"That's true. I sort of dismissed it myself as being a trifle farfetched, but the other night in Chicago I got to thinking about them, and all sorts of little things kept cropping up in my mind."

"Such as what?" I asked, leaning over the table, pinning my eyes on his.

"Edward's behavior, for one thing. He's very solicitous, gallant with her, and a bit flirtatious, I'd say."

"Oh, come on, he isn't! He's actually quite distant with Diana. No, remote is a better word. And cool, almost cold even."

"He's really only like that when your mother is present, on those family occasions when we're all together for a short while. Then he is rather…" Andrew paused, and I could see him mentally groping for the right word. "Strained," he finished.

I pondered what he had said, staring down into my glass of red wine.

Andrew pressed on: "Listen, Mal, consider the times when he's been in London with us and the twins and Diana. Really think about them. There's a change in him. A subtle change, I have to admit, and it's not noticeable unless one is looking for it, but there is a change, nonetheless."

I cast my mind back to those occasions in the past to which Andrew was referring when seemingly quite coincidentally my father had had archaeological business in London at the same time we were there. Now I wondered how coincidental those visits of his had been. Perhaps they had been carefully planned so that we could all be together like one big happy family. Also, looking back, I realized how eager he always was to come to Yorkshire with us. I tried my best to recall my father's demeanor, and as I did I began to see that there was some truth in what Andrew was saying. My father did treat Diana the way an admirer would, and she, too, showed another side of herself when he was around.

As I visualized them together, I had a flash of comprehension, and I knew, suddenly, exactly how she was different. She didn't flirt with him, nor did she display any signs of affection. It was nothing like that. Diana acted younger when she was in my father's presence. It was as simple as that. And it was barely discernible, so I had not been conscious of it, had not recognized it until now.

"That's it," I said.

"What is?" Andrew asked, looking across at me in bafflement.

"There is definitely a change in your mother when Daddy's around. It's ever so slight, but it's there. She acts younger, she even looks younger. In fact, she's almost girlish. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, you're right, Mal! My mother does seem more… carefree when Edward is with us, and he appears much younger, too. Actually, that's the difference in him, what I was striving to pinpoint before."

I nodded. Then I asked slowly, "Do you think they're having an affair?"

Andrew began to laugh. "Perhaps they are." His face changed instantly, became sober once more, and he gave a little, noncommittal shrug. "I honestly don't know."

"My mother wouldn't like it if they were."

"For God's sake, Mal, your parents have been separated for donkey's years. They can't stand each other."

"Nevertheless, she wouldn't like it. She's always been terribly jealous of him, and I think she still is."

"Mmmmm. Perhaps that's the reason Mother isn't having an affair with your father. It would be too close for comfort for her. She'd feel awkward, embarrassed."

"Yes, she would," I agreed. "And Diana did tell me that she didn't see the special man because he was legally tied to his wife, and so the situation was untenable to her, she said. Well, I guess there's nothing between my father and your mother after all. He was probably just dropping her a friendly note, the way parents-in-law do."

"Do they do that, darling?"

I laughed at the skeptical expression on his face. "How do I know?" I lifted my hands in a small, helpless gesture. "Look, getting back to your original statement, Andrew, I'm certain there couldn't be anything between them. You see, I'd know. I really would. I'm very close to Diana, and to my father, and I think I'd feel it in my bones." But as I said these words, truly meaning them, I couldn't help thinking that Andrew might well be correct in his initial assumption, and I quite wrong.

Apparently my husband decided the conversation was finished, for he rose suddenly and began to clear the kitchen table. I also got up and helped him to carry the dishes over to the sink. But all the while I kept thinking about Diana and my father, and at one moment I had to turn my head away so Andrew would not see the sudden, pleased smile on my mouth. It gladdened my heart to think that these two people, whom I cared so much about, might be involved with each other. They both deserved a little happiness, considering the bereftness of their years alone.

The arc of the sky was the darkest of blues, and it was clear, without a single cloud. The stars were very bright, crystalline, sparkling, and there was a thin sliver of a crescent moon.

It was the most perfect night, and there was even a cool breeze blowing up now as Andrew and I walked over the ridge and down toward the long meadow and the big pond. After helping me tidy the kitchen, he had said he wanted to see the horses, and so a few minutes ago we had set out from the house, walking in silence, holding hands, enjoying the beautiful evening.

Our two horses and the children's ponies were stabled in one of the big red barns near Anna's little cottage. She was an extraordinary gardener whose talent and skill had turned the wilderness surrounding Indian Meadows into a true beauty spot, and she was worth every penny we paid her. We gave her the cottage rent-free in return for caretaking chores and for looking after the horses, feeding and grooming them and mucking out the stalls. Her nephew Billy came to help her every day after school, and we paid him for his work in the stables. Although Anna's true vocation was gardening, she was an enthusiastic and expert equestrian and enjoyed exercising our horses as well as her own.

The cottage was misnamed, since in reality it was a barn, one of the smaller ones which we had remodeled last year, turning it into a comfortable studio with a sleeping loft, bathroom, and kitchen.

Anna loved it, and she had been thrilled to move in with Blackie, her Labrador, and her coffee-colored Persian cat, Miss Petigrew. She had come along at exactly the right time for us, and seemingly so, had we for her. She had just separated from her boyfriend, moved out of his house in Sharon, and was staying with friends at their farm near Lake Wononpakook until she found a place of her own. Our remodeled barn and the offer we made had solved her immediate problems as well as ours.