I doubted my mother would feel this way, but I said, "I hope so, Sash. You know only too well that she and I have our differences. But my mother does love me, and I love her, even though she can be exasperating. And today I felt something else for her, something different-a rush of genuine sympathy, and a certain kind of… aching sorrow. I realized that she probably hadn't had it easy with Daddy. It was at that moment it occurred to me that I was being unfair, unjust. I think I've always been somewhat blinded to reality because of my adoration of my father."

"You might have been unjust, yes, but you can't change that now, honey. What's done is done. I'm glad you had this… this revelation, as you call it." Sarah cleared her throat, and looking me straight in the eye, she said, "Your father was never there for you, Mal. Your mother always was."

I gaped at her, about to protest, but clamped my mouth firmly shut. I realized that Sarah had spoken only the truth. Whenever there had been a crisis during the years I was growing up, my father had inevitably been abroad. It was my mother who had coped with my problems during my adolescence and teenage years and even when I was older.

I nodded. "You're right," I said at last, acknowledging the veracity of her words. Then with a twinge of dismay I realized this was the first time I had ever been disloyal to my father in my thoughts, let alone in my words. But he had most likely been as much at fault as my mother, when it came to the disintegration of their marriage.

She got up and walked around the table to my side, hugged me against her body. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you, Best Friend," I said, squeezing her hand, which rested on my shoulder.

Straightening, she said with a light laugh, "I'd better go inside and get dressed. I don't want to be caught in my robe when your guests arrive."

I also stood. "And I must finish setting these tables." As I spoke I picked up a handful of red-and-white checked napkins and began to fold them in half.

Sarah was a few yards away from me when she swung around and said, "It's going to be a good day, Mal. This Fourth of July is going to be the best you've ever had. I promise."

I believed her.

I could see them through the French doors of the sun-room, playing together on the terrace. My beautiful children.

And how glorious they looked this morning. They were like little Botticelli angels, with their sun-streaked blonde hair, the most vivid of blue eyes which echoed their father's, and rounded baby cheeks as smooth and pink as ripe peaches.

I drew closer to the glass, listening to them chattering away together. They were close to each other, quite inseparable, in fact. They were so alike, yet in many ways they were very different.

Lissa was saying, "Yes, Jamie, that's good. Give them a flag each. We've got a big flag on our house, so they should, too."

"I don't know when they'll see their flags," Jamie muttered, casting his sister a quick glance before turning back to the work at hand.

My six-year-old son was sticking a small Stars and Stripes into the top of the wall, trying to secure it between the cracks. "This one's for Tabitha and Henry. But they won't come out to look at it when there are lots of people here, and Mom's having a big lot of people for lunch. Vanessa and Luke are coming, too."

"Ugh!" Lissa made an ugly face. "How do you know?"

"Grandma Jess told me."

"Ugh," Lissa said again. Stepping over to her twin, she put her arm around his shoulders in a companionable way and gazed at the flag stuck on top of the wall. "Don't worry, Jamie, the little chipmunks'll see their flag tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes. They come out to play at night. They all do, the black snake and the bunny, as well," Lissa reassured her twin, sounding as self-confident as she usually did. My daughter was one of the most positive people I've ever met. "Now," she continued, "let's put the flag in the side of the wall over there, for Algernon. And another one for Angelica."

Jamie nodded and ran to do what she suggested. But almost at once the flag fell down onto the terrace. "It won't stay," he cried, turning to Lissa, as always seeking her guidance. She had been born first and was the more aggressive of the two; Jamie was often diffident, more sensitive about certain things, and he had inherited my artistic nature.

"Does Dad have any of that funny glue he sometimes uses?" Lissa asked. "Mom says it'll stick anything."

"Yes, it will," I said, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the terrace. "But I don't want you messing around with Krazy Glue this morning. It's tricky to use and dries very quickly, and it can stick to your skin."

"But Mommy-" Lissa began.

I cut her off. "Not today, honey. Anyway, I think I have a much better solution to your problem, Jamie. Why not use some of your Silly Putty? You can press a small mound of it onto the wall where you want to place the flag, and then stick the flag into the Silly Putty. I bet the flag'll hold very securely."

"Oh, that's a good idea, Mom!" Jamie exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "I'll go and get it."

"Slow down, you'll fall!" I shouted after him, watching him race away as fast as his little legs would carry him.

Trixy was hard on his heels, bouncing along by his side.

I looked down at Lissa and smiled, thinking how adorable she was in her pink T-shirt and matching shorts. "So, you decided to give flags to all of our little friends who live in the wall," I said. "That's nice."

She nodded, gazing up at me solemn-faced and serious. "Yes, Mommy. We can't leave them out on the Fourth of July. Every American house should have a flag, you said so."

"That I did, and where did you get your flags?"

"Daddy bought them in that shop near the vegetable stand. And he bought you some flowers." She stopped abruptly, her eyes opened wider, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Mom, I shouldn't have told you that. It's a surprise. Pretend you don't know when Dad gives you flowers."

I nodded. "I've just forgotten what you said."

Jamie came back with Trixy in tow, and he began to work with the Silly Putty, breaking off small pieces and making mounds.

Lissa stood watching him for a moment, then she swung her head to me and said, "It's hot, Mommy. Can I take my T-shirt off?"

"I don't think you should, darling. I don't want you to expose yourself to the sun. You know how easily you get a sunburn."

"But it's soooo hot," she complained.

"How about a dip in the pool?" I suggested.

"Oh, yes! Goody! Goody!" She clapped her hands together and beamed at me, then cried to Jamie, "Let's go and get our swimsuits, Fishy."

"Fishy?" I repeated. "Why do you call your brother that?"

"Daddy says he's like a fish in the water, the best swimmer, too."

"That's true, but you're not so bad yourself, Pumpkin."

"Mom, can we take Swellen into the pool for a swim with us?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lissa, of course you can't. Sue Ellen's only a goldfish. She'd drown in the pool. And she'd be scared to death."

"She wouldn't, Mom, honest. And she's a brave little fish." Lissa threw Jamie a pointed look, and added, "A very, very, very brave little fish."

"I didn't hurt your fish," Jamie mumbled without looking at his sister.

"Of course you didn't, honey," I exclaimed. Turning to Lissa, I went on, "You really can't take her into the pool with you, even though she is an extremely brave little fish. You see, the chlorine might poison her, and you wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

My daughter shook her head; her blue eyes had grown larger and rounder.