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He had a way with children
They'd all gather round
To play silly games
He gave from the heart
Sharing their lives he knew so well

She had to paint the seagulls
Watch their feathers
Ruffle in the wind
She was obsessed with motion
Or was it the notion of living by the sea

He loved the prairie
She the ocean where they married
By the tide she would stay
He in a wheat field
Cutting the hay

He lived from the land
Reaping the gifts
He sowed by hand
She stayed by the sea
Caressed by the breeze, the touch of the sand

There came a day that he would travel
To his lover
On the shore
She would see her children
On the prairie and then no more

He loved the prairie
She the ocean where they married
By the tide she would stay
He in a wheat field
Cutting the hay
- "She the Ocean," Stewart MacNeil and David Cross

Elizabeth James imagines the story she will tell about this day: the day she thought she lost everything, and the day she got it back a hundred times over.

"I didn't even wear a wedding gown the first time I married your grandfather," she will tell her grandchildren one day. "But I did the second time. It was a beautiful summer day. We married while sailing across the Atlantic on the QE2, and every day we followed the sun back to America."

She tries to remember everything about this day, to record it for the next generation. The ship-shaped cake that Hallie and Annie ended up picking because it was the only one that they could agree on, even though red velvet was nobody's favorite. The wine that Nick chose specifically, a deep merlot called Sunburnt West. The dress that she snagged in a rush from the shop, a leftover from a wealthy young bride-to-be a few years ago whose fiancé had died suddenly, just weeks before the wedding. Since then, understandably, no one else had wanted the dress. But today Elizabeth thinks of it as a second chance, the one that she dreamed of but never imagined she would get.

This is it, she thinks as they dock in New York and head out into the rush of the city. This is the rest of our lives together.

She doesn't know how hard it will be to make that dream come true.

When they get back to California—home, Elizabeth reminds herself—the rest of the family settles in right away. Martin moves into Chessy's room on the second floor, although they are talking about fixing up the small wing over the wine cellar and moving down there to have a little more privacy. The girls decide to share Hallie's room, exchanging her double bed for two single beds and a pillow for Sammy smack in the middle of them, even though there are plenty of other spare rooms that Annie could have chosen for her own. Nick all but barricades one of them and won't let Elizabeth in for a week. When he finally opens the door and shows her in, he is shy and proud at the same time. "I redid it," he says. "I thought it could be your studio."

His effort touches Elizabeth, even though it's clear that he has no idea what goes in a designer's studio. He's bought what appears to be a pile of friendship bracelet floss and a carpenter's square. There's also a beautiful butcher-block table that is the right length but six inches too short for her, and an antique Singer sewing machine table with a leaf that droops like a broken wing. But there are huge windows and plenty of light, and even though it's totally, completely, one hundred percent different from her studio in London, she can imagine herself in this room, sketching and stitching to the hum of her family all around her.

The afternoon sunlight bounces off the acres of vines, arranged in perfect rows like sentries. There is nothing like this in London. She goes to Nick and he kisses her and strokes the back of her neck.

Within a couple of weeks, Elizabeth feels more settled into the Napa house, too. She has an ID card that proclaims her to be a resident of the state of California, and has been having driving lessons with Chessy, who is much calmer in the passenger seat than Nick. She can walk by Sammy now without him barking at her. She's transformed her studio into an office that is actually useful, featuring a computer, a fax machine, a tall-enough table, and a wall of clocks that show the time in New York, London, Paris, Milan, and Bora Bora. (That was Annie's suggestion, for some reason.)

The girls start year seven on the first Tuesday in September, which is nerve-wracking for Annie and even more so for Elizabeth. Annie comes down to breakfast, which she doesn't actually eat, wearing a pair of dungarees and a cropped short-sleeved jumper that she borrowed from Hallie. Nick and Chessy both give her a thumbs-up, but Elizabeth is slightly appalled—not just at Annie's uncharacteristic clothes but also at how happy she looks in them. It must show on her face, because Annie turns to her nervously, and she forces a smile. "You look just like your sister," she says, and Annie smiles a real smile back at her. (She is relieved when they come home from school and tell her that Annie's first day went well and all Hallie's friends like her, but she's going to go back to wearing her own clothes because people have trouble telling them apart until they talk.)

Elizabeth can't get too settled in, though, because her first business trip is in early October. She mentions it over a dinner of pasta with a side of pasta that Nick made himself because Chessy and Martin are out on a date. "Bridal Week is over your birthday weekend this year," Elizabeth says, looking at Annie, although she remembers a moment later that that means Hallie too. "So we'll celebrate the weekend after, all right, darling?"

"Sure, Mum," Annie says, nibbling a forkful of tagliatelle. (Nick called it "noodles.") "Have a good trip."

"Where are you going?" Hallie asks, looking confused.

"Bridal Week," Elizabeth explains. "It's the major autumn bridal fashion show, and it's always held in New York in October."

"Over my birthday weekend?" Hallie asks, sounding insulted.

"It's my birthday weekend too," Annie points out. "It often is. It's usually the second weekend in October."

"But you're going away over my birthday?"

Nick carries the pot of pasta over to the table and serves Hallie another helping. "It'll be all right, kiddo. We'll have your party that weekend, and we'll celebrate with Lizzy when she gets back."

"But this is my first birthday," Hallie implores. She takes a big bite of pasta and shoves it into the side of her cheek so she can mumble, "I mean my first birthday with all of us together. Can't you go the next weekend?"

"Bridal Week is only one weekend," Annie says. "Actually, it's usually just three days. It'll be fine, Hal. Mum always goes and sees all the shows and designers, and when she comes home she makes me a costume of all the newest designs all put together. We have pictures." She smiles at her mother, which makes Elizabeth feel lovely. She came up with the idea when Annie was small and didn't understand why Elizabeth was going away, even for a weekend.

Nick and Hallie, on the other hand, are looking at Annie like she has four heads. "She makes you a wedding dress?" Nick repeats, as if he's not sure what a wedding dress is, much less that Elizabeth might make one.

"A costume," Annie repeats. "It's just for fun. We use whatever Mum's got 'round the house."

"Okay, but let's get back to the birthday thing," Hallie says. "Mom, please? I'm turning twelve years old, and I've never had my mother around for my birthday. Couldn't you stay just this year?"

The lovely feeling that bubbled up in Elizabeth's stomach only a minute ago turns sour. She glances from one daughter to the other, taking in the different expressions on their identical faces: Annie calm and unfazed, Hallie anxious and pleading. Nick's eyes are harder to read. He probably feels as conflicted as she does. Elizabeth can't just drop everything and skip Bridal Week; this is her work and her life. But looking at her beautiful daughter, all hope and disappointment at once, she wishes she could. She wishes she could say yes even though she knows she has to say no. She wishes that she could open her mouth, but she's afraid that if she does, the wrong words will fall out.

Fortunately Nick comes to her rescue again, squeezing her hand under the table. "Hal, I'm sorry, but your mom has to go to this—this thing. You and Annie decide what you want to do for your birthday, okay? What kind of cake do you want?"

Hallie looks down at her mostly-untouched third bowl of tagliatelle and shoves back her chair. "I don't know," she mumbles. She glances at Annie, then at Elizabeth and Nick. "Can I go finish dinner in my room?"

"Sure, kiddo," Nick says in usual easy manner, although he's looking from Hallie back to Elizabeth with concern.

Annie stands up too. "May I be excused?" she asks, and when Elizabeth nods, she follows Hallie up the stairs.

Elizabeth is conflicted up until the last second she steps onto the commuter plane at the Napa County Airport, especially when she sees just how small a commuter plane is. She is still not a confident flyer, and she wishes that someone, anyone, had been able to come with her on this trip. But, understandably, nobody wanted to leave the girls on their birthday weekend. Nick offered to come along and send Chessy and Martin to chaperone the birthday party at Vertex Climbing Center (Hallie's idea, although Annie agreed to it), but she could tell that he wasn't really comfortable with the idea. So she forced down her fears and misgivings and kissed him goodbye, both before and after she hugged Annie and Hallie.

Three hairy flights later, she lands in New York City and hails a taxi outside the airport. From then on, her weekend is a flurry of gowns and peep-toed shoes and tulle and lace and she is relieved that she doesn't have time to think about Nick and the girls. She calls every night using her long-distance calling code, when the sun is just beginning to drop below the line of the skyscrapers but it's still high afternoon in California.

On Saturday evening, she meets an old friend for a quick drink at a bar halfway between their hotels. Elizabeth met Emma Kelty when they were both at Central Saint Martins, but that's where their similarities end. Now Emma works for Vivienne Westwood, where she's one of a hundred designers, and the last Westwood show Elizabeth remembers featured some kind of pirate theme, which is not particularly useful to the bridal business. For her part, Emma has never been able to understand the appeal of setting up one tiny shop on her own, the way Elizabeth did. Still, they've been friends for a long time, and Elizabeth was genuinely pleased when Emma faxed her a couple of weeks ago and suggested that they meet up in New York.

"Hallo, darling," Emma says when she enters the bar and spots Elizabeth perched on a stool. She kisses the air to each side of Elizabeth's cheeks and then gestures to the young girl next to her. "I hope you don't mind, but I've brought along one of our new junior designers, Margaret. Margaret, this is my friend Elizabeth James. She has her own shop over near Abbey Road."

"Nice to meet you," Elizabeth says, shaking Margaret's hand. She's a little disappointed that she won't have the chance to catch with Emma alone, but the girl looks so genuinely thrilled to be here that she can't really complain. "How long have you been with Westwood?"

"About a year," Margaret says as Emma moves down the bar to wave down the bartender. "This is my first trip to any of the shows."

Elizabeth smiles. "Just wait until the shows," she says. "Paris, Milan, and of course I can't wait to be back in London."

"So, darling, how have you been?" Emma asks, coming back with two glasses of red wine and something colorful in a cocktail glass. "What's California like? I've never been. Is it gorgeous?"

"It's fine," Elizabeth says, taking a sip of pinot noir. "It's been an adjustment, of course."

"Elizabeth just got remarried," Emma explains to Margaret. "She and her husband live in California now."

"Congratulations," Margaret says. "I've never been to California either."

"It really is gorgeous," Elizabeth says. "But completely different from London and New York, of course. It's strange to look outside some days and see nothing but grape vines—my husband owns a vineyard," she adds to Margaret. The words still sound strange in her mouth, not only the owns a vineyard part but especially the my husband part.

"It sounds deadly," Margaret says, "but I'm not sure I could live there. I'd really miss London."

"So do I," Elizabeth says before thinking about it. Emma gives her a sympathetic look, and all three of them fall into an awkward silence while they each take a big swallow of their drinks.

After a moment, Margaret continues in a slightly strained voice, "Yeah, I love cities. This is my first time in New York too. My sister was so jealous that I was coming here, she asked if I could bring her."

"How old is your sister?" Elizabeth asks, latching onto the more innocuous topic.

"Thirteen. She loves fashion. Last week she told my mam that I'm her idol."

"Thirteen," Elizabeth says thoughtfully. "My daughter is almost twelve." She tries to imagine having a thirteen-year-old daughter who loves fashion and thinks that Elizabeth is her idol. Annie is polite about Elizabeth's job, and of course Elizabeth knows that Annie loves her, but she isn't particularly interested in fashion. When she was little, Elizabeth would take her along to the shop or a shoot and find Annie curled up hours later in a pile of discarded clothes, fast asleep. It was why she started the costume wedding dress tradition for Annie: something to make her laugh, something that both of them could enjoy about Elizabeth's job.

"That's cool," Margaret says. "Do you have any other kids?"

"Yes," Elizabeth says, and for the second time, the words stop in her throat. She realizes that she has another daughter, one who watched with rapt attention every second of a photo shoot and might actually love fashion. She had never considered bringing Hallie along on this trip. For a second she'd forgotten Hallie entirely.

She thought, Daughter. I was thinking of one daughter.

But I have two.

By Sunday afternoon, Elizabeth is more than ready to leave New York City. Actually, she was ready to leave on Friday evening, which worries her. She loves her work normally. Usually being in her studio energizes her and fills her up and, more importantly, fills up the hours until Annie comes home from school.

But when Nick and the girls meet her at the airport, Nick supporting her shaking legs with the heat and pressure of his hug, she feels energy of an entirely different kind. She tells herself that this is where she belongs, surrounded on all sides by her daughters and her husband.

"Happy birthday, darlings," she says, hugging first Hallie, then Annie, then Hallie again. She called to wish them happy birthday first thing this morning—first thing New York time, which made it really first thing California time—but still, she's not going to squander a single moment of the first birthday her daughters are spending together.

"Tell me about your party," she coaxes as they pick up her luggage and head for the car park. "Did you have fun?"

"Sure," Hallie says. "I've been rock climbing before, but Annie never did it before. She did okay, I guess. For a beginner." The smirk on her face is evident, but she puts her arm around her sister and gives her a hug.

"I was awful," Annie corrects Hallie, but she's smiling too. Elizabeth watches them and wonders if this is the way they'd act if they'd grown up together. Would they always support each other, or would they feel like it was okay to engage in a little sibling rivalry? She'll never know. For a second, the depth of the choice that she and Nick made all those years ago steals her breath again.

She struggles to regain her composure as they drive back to the vineyard. "And did you have a good sleepover?" she asks. "Do you like Hallie's friends, Annie?"

"Ye-es," Annie says, more slowly this time. Elizabeth turns in the front seat so she can look at her daughters, who are glancing cautiously at each other. "Uh, they seem, uh, nice. But do you think Dad and Hallie can come back to London with us sometime and meet my friends too?"

"Sure, Ann," Nick says, which Elizabeth knew he would. He takes Elizabeth's hand across the seat and smiles at her, then glances in the rearview mirror at the girls. "Maybe for Christmas. I didn't get to see much of London when I went to bring you home, Lizzy."

"But now you are home," Hallie says, and for some reason, that makes Elizabeth's stomach twist again, even though there's no turbulence this time.

It's a relief when they get back to the house and say hi to Chessy, Martin, and Sammy. Nick carries Elizabeth's suitcase upstairs and then they all sit down to dinner together. Chessy cooked, so instead of pasta they're having a birthday dinner of cornbread, chili, roast pork loin, and asparagus. It makes for a strange dinner, but Elizabeth is pleased to see Annie try a little bit of everything. After dinner, Chessy carries in the remains of the cake from the slumber party, and Elizabeth raises her eyebrows when she sees it. "Is that a chocolate cake, Annie?" she asks. As far as she can remember, Annie has never requested a chocolate cake for her birthday.

"With peanut butter frosting," Hallie confirms, and she and Annie exchange grins.

Annie digs into the gigantic slice that Chessy puts on her dessert plate, and for a second, her daughters are so very identical that it takes Elizabeth's breath away.

Autumn in California is beautiful, something that Elizabeth didn't expect. In London, October is usually pleasant enough, but unremarkable. Here, the days and nights are the height of Indian summer, perfect for sitting outside in the evenings on the porch or in the swing with Nick, a bottle of wine forgotten as their conversation slows with the setting sun.

She's sorry to miss even a day of it, but by early November, she really has to make a trip back to London to meet with her business manager and, more importantly, her accountant. Elizabeth has put it off for as long as she could, wanting to be here for her daughters' Halloween, which Hallie insisted was a big deal even in seventh grade. She made a silly Bridal Week costume for Annie that had a marshmallow of tulle sprouting out of the small of her back and a much more stately one for Hallie that wouldn't look out of place in Vera Wang's collection. Hallie loved it so much that she wore it for Halloween. Annie wore a Mary Poppins costume left over from the last three fancy dress parties she attended.

Elizabeth discusses the dates of her trip with Nick. She wants to time it to coincide with Bonfire Night, which is a Thursday this year, so there are bound to be fireworks over the weekend. She and Annie and her father always liked to go together. "Would you like to come?" she asks Nick, almost shyly, as she sits up in bed watching him finish in the bathroom. She wants him to come, since he keeps saying he'd like to see more of London, but she's also a little nervous that he'll say no.

Nick walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. "I really wish I could, Lizzy, but I can't get away right now," he says. "Between the tours and the harvest, this is the busiest time of year for me. Maybe after Thanksgiving."

"Oh," Elizabeth says. Thanksgiving hadn't even crossed her mind. "That's at the end of the month, isn't it?"

"Right. Things will have calmed down by then," Nick says. He climbs into bed next to her and draws her toward him. "But if you need to go, then go. Why don't you take the girls with you? They can go for a long weekend."

"Really?" Elizabeth asks, pleased. She wanted Annie to come along, but she wasn't sure how Nick would feel about her taking Hallie. But then, why wouldn't he want Hallie to go if Annie went? They're twins, after all.

"Sure. We'll have to talk to their teachers first, but I'm sure it'll be fine," Nick says confidently. He turns off the light and kisses her, and it occurs to her that he is always confident. He always seems to know what to say, unlike Elizabeth, who sometimes can't find the right words for this new life of hers as the mother of two daughters, as someone's wife.

She kisses Nick back, her hands on his shoulders, his heart against hers, trying to be as solid and sure as he is.

To Elizabeth's pleasure and relief, the trip home goes well. Despite the four flights they have to take this time, they arrive in London fairly alert on Friday afternoon. Charles meets them at the airport, and after several rounds of hugs he takes the girls back to 7 Pembroke Lane for the afternoon while Elizabeth heads straight in to the shop. It's a relief to be on familiar streets, walking instead of driving (she still hasn't applied for her driving license in California), knowing which turns and which tube stops to take without having to look at a map. It's also a great relief to sit down with her colleagues and talk in person. They use E-mail, which Elizabeth checks every night from the second telephone line in her office, but faxing her designs back and forth to England is a slow process on both ends. There's no more popping down the hall for a quick chat with her business manager to confirm a date or verify a measurement, the way they used to. Maybe she should look into getting one of those AOL instant messages that Hallie's been asking for.

In the evening she closes the shop herself, turning off the lights and setting the security system just as she did for so many years. She and her daughters and her father have a quick dinner before heading out to see the fireworks at Alexandra Palace. It's near their house, close enough to walk, which seems to confuse Hallie. "Isn't Gareth going to drive us?" she asks.

"No," Annie says with a laugh. "They're just down the street. Actually, we can see them nearly as well from Halliwick Park as Alexandra Park, so that's usually what we do. Mum and Grandfather and I go watch from there every year."

"And why are there fireworks tonight?" Hallie asks as Elizabeth bundles both girls into warm coats. "Don't you have fireworks on the Fourth of July?"

Elizabeth and Annie both try to explain Guy Fawkes as they make the short walk to the park. It turns out to be more complicated than Elizabeth expected, and she doesn't know enough American history to make a comparison that Hallie would understand. Annie isn't much help, especially after Hallie asks if foxes are named after Guy Fawkes and Annie collapses into a fit of giggles. Elizabeth finally decides that her American daughter has had enough British history for one night, and as they find a place in the park she asks, "So, girls, what would you like to do tomorrow? I'll have to go in to the shop in the morning—"

"Oh, Mum," Annie groans.

"—but only for the morning," Elizabeth promises. "I've told Stella and Sam that we must, absolutely must, be done by noon. We'll have lunch, and then how about we spend the rest of the day seeing the sights?"

"Okay." Annie perks up. "Could we go to the Sherlock Holmes Museum?"

Hallie looks interested too. "There's an entire museum about Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes," Annie says. "It's at 221b Baker Street, which is where his house is. I mean, it's where his house was in the books."

Elizabeth smiles, remembering they would read the Sherlock Holmes books at night when Annie was small. They read children's stories, too, of course—Beatrix Potter, Mary Poppins, and Paddington Bear—but Elizabeth was excited to share Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books with her daughter. She wonders if Hallie has ever read them.

"That sounds like fun," Hallie agrees.

"Lovely," Elizabeth says. "Dad, will you come with us tomorrow?"

Charles clears his throat. "I wish I could, sweet pea, but I'm meeting Richard Stewart in the morning. You remember Mr. Stewart, don't you, Lizzy?" He doesn't wait for an answer, which is good because Elizabeth doesn't really remember Mr. Stewart. "He's asked for some help organizing the Christmas hamper for the Refugee Legal Centre."

Hallie looks confused. "Like for laundry?"

Annie giggles again, and Elizabeth gives her a very pointed look while she and Charles explain about Christmas hampers and picnic hampers and laundry baskets and their American counterparts. Hallie grasps this better than the Guy Fawkes explanation, but Elizabeth is glad when the fireworks start and no one has to talk anymore.

After her morning meetings, Elizabeth goes back to her father's house at 7 Pembroke Lane, and she and Annie and Hallie take the tube to Baker Street because Hallie's only been on it once or twice. Annie has been to the museum several times before, and she plays the role of the confident tour guide for Hallie. "Look, there's Dr. Watson's room, and here's the sitting room. Did you know that in the books, Sherlock Holmes never actually wears a deerstalker hat?"

"What's a deerstalker hat?"

"Sherlock Holmes' hat," Annie explains, pointing. There's a little table just big enough for a pipe and a magnifying glass and two hats, Dr. Watson's bowler and Sherlock Holmes' famous, if somewhat inaccurate, deerstalker hat.

Hallie nods politely, but she's trying to stifle a yawn. "Is this it?" she asks.

"No!" Annie says, looking a little insulted. "Look there, near the fireplace, there's Sherlock Holmes' violin. That's the Stradivarius that he buys in one of the books—which one is it, Mum? I forget."

Elizabeth studies her daughters, pulling them aside to let a few more visitors pass. Annie looks delighted and enthusiastic and totally oblivious to the fact that Hallie looks completely bored. Elizabeth clears her throat. "Annie, darling, I think that maybe Hallie might not be having quite as lovely a time here as you."

Annie closes her mouth at once and turns back to her sister. "You're not?" she asks, like it has never occurred to her that her identical twin wouldn't find the Sherlock Holmes Museum equally fascinating.

Hallie shrugs, staring at the carpet.

Elizabeth puts her arm around Hallie. "Have you read many of the Sherlock Holmes books, Hallie?"

Hallie starts to say something, then glances at Annie, who gives her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "No," Hallie says.

Elizabeth smiles. "This isn't the most interesting museum if you've never read the books. I think maybe we'd better finish up today and do something else, something you both would enjoy. And tonight, or when we get back to California, we'll read some of the books together. Maybe you'll like them as much as Annie does."

Hallie smiles. "Okay," she says. "Thanks, Mom."

They head down the stairs and back out to Baker Street, where they walk past the tube station and toward the Sherlock Holmes statue. "Regent's Park and the zoo are just across the street," Elizabeth points out. "Or we could go to the British Museum, or even down to the Tower of London or Tower Bridge or—"

"Oh!" Hallie exclaims suddenly and takes off running. Elizabeth grabs Annie's hand and follows her, alarmed. But Hallie doesn't run very far; she stops just a few paces down the block, pointing. "Can we go there?"

"Where?" At first Elizabeth thinks Hallie is pointing across the street to the one of the buildings at the University of Westminster, which is frankly unattractive and not a tourist destination. But when she figures out which sign Hallie means, she raises her eyebrows. "You want to go to Madame Tussauds?"

"The wax museum?" Annie asks, panting a little from being dragged along behind her mother. She wrinkles her nose.

"Please?" Hallie asks, clasping her hands together. "I've heard about it. Last year my friend Lindsay came to London and she said it was really cool. She has a picture of her whole family with Charlie Chaplin."

"Who's Charlie Chaplin?" Annie asks, frowning.

Elizabeth glances at Annie, who gives a little shrug in response. "If you want to go, then we will, sweetheart," she says. She gives Hallie a little hug around the shoulders.

Hallie hugs her back. "Thanks, Mom," she says and darts across the street, nearly getting run over when she looks right instead of left.

Elizabeth hugs Annie too. "Thank you, darling," she says and pulls her along in Hallie's wake again.

Christmas roars up like a train behind Elizabeth, and not a very welcome one at that. It seems like one minute she's in the kitchen on Thanksgiving with Chessy, learning how to baste a turkey and letting Hallie give her a lengthy history lesson on the Pilgrims and Squanto, and the next minute it's December and she and Nick are making frantic preparations to go to London. She tells Dad that they're all coming. She lets Annie call her friends long-distance one Saturday afternoon. She tries to figure out how to get all the girls' gifts to and from England, and eventually she and Nick agree to leave some of the larger items—including four new hiking backpacks for the family and a saddle for Annie—in California.

London at Christmastime isn't exactly beautiful—the streets are coated with the leftovers of a melted snowfall mixed with earth—but it's familiar and it's home. Annie seems pleased to be back in England but unimpressed by the lights of the city and the chill in the air; Hallie is much more appreciative. "Look how pretty it looks!" Hallie says, standing by the balcony doors on the first floor and staring out at the neighborhood, which is just beginning to disappear under a thin blanket of snow.

"You've seen snow before, kiddo," Nick says, passing by with a load of Christmas ornaments. "How about the year we went to Bear Valley, huh? The first time you tried snowboarding?"

Hallie wrinkles her nose. "I know, but it's usually fake." She turns back to the doors and steps forward, putting her hand on the glass pane. "This is the real stuff."

Annie steps up beside her sister and nudges her over so they can both look out at the clear night and the handful of stars tossed across the soft navy blue sky. Elizabeth watches them hold hands without words and wonders what her daughters are thinking about.

She loves that Hallie loves London. She's less certain about Nick. She watches as he helps Martin and Chessy gather up the Christmas decorations and pile them up in the living room. He agreed to come, of course, but he doesn't seem completely comfortable in her father's house. He calls Charles "sir." He tries to help Martin with everything no matter how many times Martin politely declines. He offers to drive everyone to dinner until Annie explains about the chauffeur and Hallie explains about walking in London. His uncertainty has an uncomfortable domino effect on Chessy, who seems torn between playing the role of Nick's employee and Martin's fiancée.

Elizabeth ends up taking charge. She tells Nick to call her father Charles, organizes the tree decorations, makes reservations for dinner. On Christmas Eve they stay at home and Chessy makes a beautiful ham. She lets Nick pick the wine, which he does better than Martin, of course.

Everyone is up late because they're all still jet-lagged—except for Charles, of course, who said that he was an old man who needed to go to sleep by nine—and it's well past midnight before they finally get to bed. The tree is decorated, the gifts are piled underneath, and more snow is falling outside the windows. Elizabeth crawls into bed with Nick and breathes a soft sigh on his shoulder. She can't believe how good it feels, being back in the London house. Everything is just as it used to be but made better by the addition of Nick, Hallie, and Chessy.

Nick is unusually quiet. Elizabeth wonders if he's just tired or if he doesn't know quite what to say to her in this bed, which is so different from his in California. Theirs, she reminds herself. She runs a hand through his hair. "Thank you for agreeing to come for Christmas," she says. It sounds much too formal, and she tries to soften it by adding, "I'm so glad you're here."

Nick kisses her. "I'm glad too," he says. "I love you."

She murmurs "I love you" back and thinks of their first Christmas together, their only one, with two colicky babies and a potted plant decorated with ornaments in their tiny San Francisco flat. She thinks of the tree downstairs and her two daughters sharing Annie's room down the hall. This is better, so much better. Anything would be better than that.

When Elizabeth returns to England almost two months later, the magical feeling of the city is long gone. For one thing, the brief, beautiful snow of December has given way to the usual persistent damp drizzle of late winter. For another, she's completely solo this time. She has two clients who want bespoke wedding dresses for weddings next autumn, one in London and one in Lyon, and neither Nick nor the girls could take enough time off to come with her for such a long trip. Martin and Chessy, of course, are staying wherever the majority of the family is. Dad has gone to southern Italy on a trip with one of his old friends from the barrister's office. Elizabeth has the whole house at her disposal, and it feels uncomfortably silent each night when she gets home from her consultations and then several hours in the studio.

The only good thing about the eight-hour time difference between London and Napa is that it's easy to call at the end of each night. She and Hallie and Annie started reading Sherlock Holmes stories together after Elizabeth gave Hallie a set of the books for Christmas, and they keep up with their tradition over the phone. On her end of the phone, she slides on her glasses and picks up The Return of Sherlock Holmes, which she borrowed from the library. "Are you ready?" she asks.

"Yes," Hallie says from the phone in the kitchen.

"Yes," Annie says, although her voice has a slight echo that means she's dragged the upstairs phone into the bathroom. Elizabeth still hasn't figured that one out. She makes a mental note to ask Nick when she gets back.

Elizabeth finds her spot and picks up from where they left off last night:

"Because then, again, she would have left me, and I couldn't bear to face that. Even if she couldn't love me, it was a great deal to me just to see her dainty form about the house, and to hear the sound of her voice."

"Well," said I, "you call that love, Mr. Carruthers, but I should call it selfishness."

She stops abruptly a few paragraphs later when she realizes that neither of the girls has said anything or laughed or even fidgeted in quite some time. "Are you all right?" she asks. "Annie? Hallie?"

"It's fine, Mum," Annie says instantly. "Go on. We're almost done. I've been following along."

"Hallie?"

Hallie lets out a huge sigh. "It's not fine, Mom," she says. "Can you come home?"

"What?" Elizabeth blinks. "What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing's wrong," Hallie says. "I just—I wish you were here reading to us. Can you come home this weekend?"

"I wish I could, sweetheart, but I can't," Elizabeth says. "I'll be back after France—"

"But that's in two weeks," Hallie says.

"I know, but I have another client and she wasn't available until then," Elizabeth explains. "I'll be in London for another few days, and then after France I'll come straight back, all right?"

"But Mom—"

"It's okay, Mum," Annie says again. "Isn't it, Hal?"

The telephone line goes quiet except for the hum of transatlantic wire. Elizabeth is beginning to wonder if Hallie is still there when Hallie finally says, "Yeah, sure, Mom. It's fine." Her voice is thick when she adds hastily, "I have to go."

Elizabeth hears a click. "Annie?" she asks. "Are you still there?"

"Hi, Mum."

"Is everything okay with Hallie?" It's a silly question, but Elizabeth isn't yet used to playing one daughter against the other to get the full story.

"No, not really. She misses you."

Now Elizabeth feels awful on two fronts: partly because Hallie misses her, but worse, because the casual tone of Annie's voice suggests that Annie doesn't miss her at all. "And how are you, darling?"

"It's really okay, Mum," Annie says reassuringly. "I'm used to you traveling for work, that's all. Grandfather and Martin were always there with me. But Hallie—well, you know, Dad doesn't really have to go away for work, she says. So she's not used to it."

Elizabeth nods wordlessly even though Annie can't see her. Despite having a grandfather and a butler, Annie very definitely grew up as the daughter of a single mother. She was only a toddler when Elizabeth started classes at Central Saint Martins, and she started school around the same time that Elizabeth landed her first professional job as a designer. To Annie, Mum traveling for work is like breathing and sleeping and speaking French. To Hallie, Mom traveling for work is not what she fantasized about all those years.

Hallie is only twelve. She could get used to it. But, Elizabeth wonders, should she have to?

Her voice is as full and heavy as a spoonful of treacle as she tells Annie, "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Mum."

"And tell your sister and your father that I love them too."

"I will."

Elizabeth barely gets the phone down in the cradle before she realizes that her robe is damp with her tears.

Elizabeth doesn't sleep very well for the rest of her trip. It seems like each night is split into two and three as she wakes multiple times from intense, feverish dreams about being in California with the girls and Nick. The dreams should be happy, but mainly she finds them unsettling. Maybe it's the disconnect between the joy she feels in the dreams and the jolt of waking alone in her chilly room.

The ironic thing is that despite Elizabeth's dreams and nightmares and interrupted sleep, she is truly productive. After she delivers a final design to her London client, she has a week of nonstop meetings with her business manager, her accountant, her production company, her shop's landlord, her publicist, and even a few friends she missed in New York because they have nothing to do with the fashion industry. By the time she leaves for France, she feels like Elizabeth James Ltd. is in good form for now. The week in Lyon is wonderful, full of rushed excitement and conversations that she understands in two or three languages. Still, she's thrilled to be heading back, even though it means yet another long day of travel on far too many planes.

She has a long stopover in New York, where she goes into one of those shops that are called newsstands even though they don't actually sell any newspapers. She picks up a little packet of Oreos for Annie, another one of their traditions. Elizabeth tucks them in her bag so they won't get crushed and reminds herself not to eat them. She's starving, but she knows from past experience that eating a meal at 35,000 feet is not a good strategy for her.

Nick has a meeting today, so Martin and Chessy pick her up at the Napa County Airport. Chessy lets her drive, which means it takes twice as long as it would have if Chessy had driven. By the time they turn up the long driveway, Elizabeth is feeling confident enough to hit the gas a bit more, she's so excited to see Nick, Hallie, and Annie. Martin carries her luggage so she's not bowled over when Sammy rushes outside to greet her.

She hurries into the kitchen to find both girls sitting at the counter with what they call an afternoon snack—a sandwich, an apple, and a pile of biscuits for Hallie, and a glass of milk for Annie. Elizabeth laughs aloud when she sees that they're both wearing the wedding costumes that she made when she got back from Bridal Week in October. "Hello, darlings!" she says brightly.

"Mom!"

"Mum!"

Both of them leap up from the counter and crash into Elizabeth. She can barely get her arms around the meters of satin and lace and tulle. "Oh, girls," she says with a little sob. "Look at you. I've missed you."

"We missed you too," Hallie says, her voice muffled against Elizabeth's coat. "We have so much to tell you."

"Do you, now?" Elizabeth smiles. "Here, I've brought you something."

"Really?" Hallie asks. "What?"

Elizabeth takes the Oreos out of her bag and hands them to Hallie. She realizes too late that she should have bought two, but at least they come with eight Oreos in a packet.

"Oh! Oreos. Thanks, Mom," Hallie says. She sounds a little confused.

Annie bites her lip. Elizabeth follows her gaze to the kitchen counter, where both girls were eating their snacks a minute ago.

Sitting on the counter between their plates is a full-size package of Double Stuf Oreos, along with the biggest jar of Skippy peanut butter that Elizabeth has ever seen in her life.

Annie clears her throat and pastes a delighted grin on her face, which is so clearly fake that Elizabeth's stomach twists. "Thanks, Mum!"

Elizabeth hugs her daughters again so none of them have to see each other's expressions. "You're welcome," she says into their hair. "I love you."

Elizabeth had intended to go back to London in June, when the girls would be out of school and could go with her, but Sam faxed her and said they really had to meet in person to go over the annual financial report, and Stella listed a number of things that she wanted to discuss for the winter season. So, just after Easter, she flies back to London again and settles into Dad's house for a week of meetings and spreadsheets.

Dad is here this month, but he's in and out because he's meeting up with some old university friends who have come over from Ireland. Elizabeth doesn't remember him having this many friends during all those years when she and Annie lived with him. She wonders if he missed them, if he turned down invitations and trips and reunions so he could be there for her and Annie.

The house feels especially empty this time, so Elizabeth spends most of her evenings at the shop. Her office is familiar and cozy. The clock on the wall is set to London time. She knows exactly which sequence of numbers to dial to make a phone call to France. When she uses the spellcheck in her word processing program, it doesn't underline "colours" or "modelled" with red squiggles.

She tries to make a list that addresses all the things that Stella and Sam brought up at their most recent meetings, but her mind is wandering. She tosses a stack of pattern paper on her desk, looks at the framed photo of Nick and Annie and Hallie and herself, and sighs.

Elizabeth goes over the last seven months in her mind. Having Nick, having her daughters back together. The frequent trips that take her so far away from California. Missing her father in London. Martin and Chessy, who are actually talking about moving out to a place of their own. Remembering and forgetting and remembering again that she is the mother of two daughters, not just one; that she is someone's wife, not just Elizabeth James.

She remembers thinking to herself at Christmas, Surely this is better. But better than what? What would be better would be for their family to be together all the time.

Nick would never move here. She knows that. She knows his dreams and his love for his work. How could he possibly be a vintner in the heart of London?

I could move to California. She toys with the idea. Really move there, not just stay between trips. Get my driving license—Chessy insists that she's ready—and say yes, that that's where we're going to live the rest of our lives together. I could.

But the thought makes her dizzy with terror.

There's a knock at the door, and Elizabeth glances up in surprise. She thought Stella was the only one around, and she and Stella have known each other for so long that they never knock. "Come in, Stell," she calls, and her perfunctory offer of a cup of tea dies in her mouth when she sees that it's not Stella, it's Nick.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she exclaims, overjoyed as always to see him, but the expression on his face is so somber that her stomach lurches. "Is something wrong? The girls? Are they with you?"

"Yes. No. I mean, nothing's wrong," Nick says in a rush. "They're at the house. Your, uh, Charles is home, he's with them."

"Oh, good, Dad's home," Elizabeth says absently. "All right, well, that's perfectly perfect. But … what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you." Nick looks around the office helplessly. It's not messy—Elizabeth has a very precise organizational system—but at the moment, that system means that there are bolts of taffeta and six books of fabric samples taking up residence on all the chairs except hers. She clears a chair for Nick, but he doesn't sit. Instead he remains standing in the doorway, looking extra-uncomfortable surrounded by clouds of white, nothing at all like his usual confident self.

"I can't do this anymore," Nick says, and the lurch travels all the way up to her heart.

She starts talking fast. "Nick, I'm so sorry. I know this has been a terrible spring for travel and I can try to cut back next year. Stella has been talking about hiring someone else, someone to take over some of the administrative bits that she and I have always done together, and—"

"Lizzy. Stop," Nick says. "Please, just let me … let me say this."

Elizabeth closes her mouth and nods. She looks at her husband and waits for him to say the words that will end their marriage. Fortunately, he's not carrying a hair dryer, but any words he could possibly throw at her will hurt more than that.

This is it, she finds herself thinking in a detached, almost curious way. This is the end of our lives together.

"While you were in France last month, I did a lot of thinking."

Go on, just say it.

"I talked about it with the girls, and they understand."

What? Elizabeth is jolted for a second. How could they possibly understand when she doesn't even understand it herself?

"I've got a buyer."

While Elizabeth is contemplating that, because she's quite sure he doesn't mean a fashion buyer, Nick goes on in a rush. "I met this guy a few years ago who said that if I ever wanted to sell the vineyard, he'd be interested. I talked to him and we're in the preliminary stages of a deal. Chessy and Martin are willing to stay on for a year or two to work through the transition and then they'll join us in London. I'll sell the cars. I can learn to drive on the left side of the road. You don't have to get your license at all."

Elizabeth is speechless, which Nick seems to take as a sign that he should keep on talking.

"Did you know that Hallie and Annie can both get dual citizenship? Chessy can apply for citizenship too after she marries Martin. I looked into quarantine rules for bringing Sammy to England. I bought Hallie a book on Oliver Cromwell."

Elizabeth finally finds her voice. "What are you talking about?"

Nick looks confused. "I'll sell the vineyard. We'll move to London with you. I love you, Lizzy. I'd do anything to make this work." He steps forward and touches the tears that she didn't know were on her cheeks, and his voice goes soft as he adds, "Unless you don't want to."

Elizabeth moves into his embrace and cries in earnest, soaking the front of his jacket. He puts his arms around her and rests his chin on the top of her head and lets her sob while her mind whirls. She tries to imagine Nick and Hallie and Annie living permanently in London with her and Dad. She tries to imagine waiting an entire year or two for Chessy and Martin to join them. She remembers Nick telling her back in August, You don't always have to be so brave, and how she had said, Oh, yes I do.

Because it's true. She does. Except that this is bravery of another kind.

She takes a step back and wipes her face with the palm of her hand. She must look a mess, but Nick doesn't seem to mind. He's watching her intently, like she's something very precious.

Elizabeth reaches for a tissue and dries off her face so she doesn't look like a total fright when she says the most important words of her life. They are more important than either time she said "I do" to Nick. "Don't sell the vineyard," she says. "I'll live in California. Really live there, not just in between trips." She hesitates and then whispers, "I'll come home."

She watches a slow flush of hope creep across Nick's face. He tosses the tissue in the bin and takes her hands, even though they're damp with her tears. "Really?" he asks.

Elizabeth nods and lets him hug her again. She says against his throat, "You didn't really want to sell the vineyard, did you?"

Now it's Nick's turn to hesitate. She can feel him weighing his honesty against his desire to say the right thing to her. "No," he says. "But I'd do it for you."

She shakes her head and puts her hand on his chest, over his jacket, over his heart. "And I'm doing this for all of us."

Elizabeth James imagines the story she will tell about this day: the day she thought she lost everything, and the day she got it back a hundred times over.

"I didn't think California would ever be my home," she will tell her grandchildren one day. "But it is, because I made it that way. My father kept his house in London, and we went back in the summers, but I became an American citizen. I was naturalized, and your Great-aunt Chessy was thrilled when I finally got my driving license."

She tries to remember everything about this day, to record it for the next generation. The tears and hugs when they told the girls that they were all going home to California together. The very practical considerations of what she would do with her business and what kind of clientele she might design for in San Francisco and Los Angeles. The last night in her London bedroom with Nick, saying goodbye to the Elizabeth James she'd been in this house and hello to whoever Elizabeth James would become in America.

This is it, she thinks as they fly home to Napa, all four of them together. This is the rest of our lives together.

She knows how much it's worth, and how much she's willing to give, to make that dream come true.

He loved the prairie
She the ocean where they married
By the tide she would stay
He in a wheat field
Cutting the hay

Now he loves the seagulls
Watch their movement
On the ocean
She loves her children
Kiss them softly into sleep
- "She the Ocean," Stewart MacNeil and David Cross