“Well, little lady, how does it look to you?” The pickup had stopped, and as he always did, Bill looked around with obvious pride. He had helped to make the Lord Ranch something special, and that was just what it was, most of all to him. “Does it look different?”

“No.” She smiled as she looked around her in the darkness. But the moon was high, the house was well lit, there were lights on in the men's cottages and the main hall where they ate and played cards, there was a strong light near the stables, and it was easy to see that not much had changed.

“There are a few technical improvements, but you can't see them.”

“I'm glad. I was afraid it might all have changed.”

“Nope.” He sounded the horn twice, and as he did so the door to the main house opened and a tall slim white-haired woman stood in the doorway, smiling first at Bill, and then instantly at Sam. There was only a moment's hesitation as she stood gazing at the young woman, and then with a light step she ran down the stairs, held out her arms, and took Samantha in a tight hug.

“Welcome home, Samantha. Welcome home.” And then suddenly, as she smelled the dusty rose of Caroline Lord's perfume, felt her thick white hair brush her cheek, she felt tears in her eyes and a sense of having come home. After a moment the two women parted, and Caroline stood back and looked at her with a smile. “My God, you're pretty, Sam. Prettier even than last time.”

“You're crazy. And good Lord, look at you!” The older woman was as tall and as thin and as ramrod straight as she ever had been, her eyes were bright, and her whole being suggested sparkle and life. She was as pretty as she had been the last time Sam saw her in her fifties, and now at sixty-six, she was still beautiful, and even in jeans and a man's cotton shirt she had her own undeniable style. There was a bright blue scarf knotted at her neck, she wore an old Indian belt, and her cowboy boots were a deep jade-green. Samantha happened to look down as she followed Caroline up the steps to the ranch house and gasped with a little exclamation of delight. “Oh, God, they're wonderful, Caroline!”

“Aren't they?” Caroline had understood instantly and looked down at them with a girlish smile. “I had them made specially. It's a final extravagance at my age, but what the hell. It may be my last chance.” Sam was suddenly struck by that kind of reference, and it jolted her just to realize that Caroline thought like that now. Sam was silent as she walked into the familiar house, and Bill followed her with her bags. The entrance hall that they stood in boasted a handsome Early American table, a brass chandelier, and a big bright-colored hooked rug. In the living room beyond there was a huge fire blazing in the fireplace, surrounded by a cluster of comfortable well-upholstered chairs covered in a deep blue. It was a color picked up again in an antique rug, this one littered with bright flowers woven into the hooked design. The room was entirely done in blues and reds and greens, there was a brightness to it that seemed to perfectly reflect Caroline herself, and all of it was set off by the many antique pieces in rich woods. There were leather-bound books, brass fixtures everywhere, andirons in front of the fireplace, candelabra, buckets and planters, and sconces on the walls with lights like delicate candles. It was a wonderful old-fashioned room with elegance and warmth, much like Caroline herself, and it was perfectly in keeping with the fact that it was on the ranch. It was a room that would have been perfect in Town & Country or House and Garden, but which, of course, Caroline had never shown. It was her home and not a showplace, and after the very visible years she had spent in Hollywood she felt very strongly about her privacy now. In effect, for all but a few, she had virtually disappeared some twenty-five years before.

“Do you need some more firewood, Caroline?” Bill was looking down at her from his great height, his snow-white hair revealed now that he had his big-brimmed Stetson in his hand.

She smiled and shook her head, looking ever more youthful, the light in his eyes reflected in her own. “No, thanks, Bill. I've got enough for the rest of the night.”

“Fine. Then I'll see you ladies in the morning.” He smiled warmly at Sam, nodded respectfully to Caroline, and with his long stride rapidly left the living room and went out. They heard the door close gently behind him, and as Samantha and Barbara had decided a hundred times during the visits while they were in college, Sam decided once again that the two couldn't be involved with each other after all. Not if they said good night to each other like that. And their greetings were never more personal than they had just been, friendly nods, casual smiles, warm greetings, serious conversations about the ranch. Nothing else was ever evident between them, and yet as one watched them one had a feeling, as though they had some secret understanding, or as Sam had once put it to Barbara, “as though they were really husband and wife.”

But before Samantha could ponder the matter further, Caroline put a tray on a low table near the fire, poured a cup of hot chocolate, uncovered a plate of sandwiches, and waved to Sam to sit down.

“Come on, Sam, sit down and make yourself comfortable.” And then, as she did, the older woman smiled at her again. “Welcome home.”

For the second time that evening Sam's eyes filled with tears and she reached a long graceful hand toward Caroline. They held hands for a moment, as Sam held the bony fingers tight.

“Thank you for Jetting me come here.”

“Don't say that.” Caroline let go and handed her the hot chocolate. “I'm glad that you called me. I've always loved you…”She hesitated for a moment, glancing into the fire and then back at Sam, “Just as much as I loved Barb.” And then she sighed softly. “Losing her was like losing a daughter. It's hard to believe it's been almost ten years.” Sam nodded silently, and then Caroline smiled at her. “I'm glad to know that I didn't lose you too. I've loved your letters, but for the last few years I've been wondering if you'd ever come back.”

“I wanted to, but… I've been busy.”

“Do you want to tell me about all that, or are you too tired?” It had been a five-hour flight, and then a three-hour drive. By California time it was only eight thirty, but by Sam's time, in New York, it was eleven thirty at night. But she wasn't even tired, she was just exhilarated to see her old friend.

“I'm not too tired… I just don't know where to start.”

“Then start with the hot chocolate. Then the sandwiches. Then talk.” The two women exchanged another smile, and then Sam couldn't resist reaching out to her again, and Caroline gave her a warm hug. “Do you know how good it is to have you back here?”

“Only half as good as it is to be back.” She took a big bite out of a sandwich and then sat back against the couch with a broad grin. “Bill says you have a new Thoroughbred. Is he a beauty?”

“Oh, God, Sam, he sure is!” And then she laughed again. “Better even than my green boots.” She looked down with amusement and then back at Sam with a sparkle in her eye. “He's a stallion and so full of fire that even I can hardly ride him. Bill is terrified I'll kill myself riding him, but when I saw him, I really couldn't resist. The son of one of the other ranchers near here bought him in Kentucky, and then needed some quick money so he sold him to me. It's almost a sin to ride him just for pleasure, but I can't help it. I just have to. I don't give a damn if I'm an arthritic old woman, or what kind of fool anyone thinks me, he is the one horse in my lifetime I want to ride till I die.” Sam flinched again at the mention of death and old age. In that sense both she and Bill had changed since the last time. But after all, they were both in their sixties now, maybe it was indeed a preoccupation that was normal for their age. Nonetheless it was impossible to think of either of them as “old people,” they were too handsome, too active, too powerful, too busy. And yet, it was obviously an image of themselves that they both now had. “What's his name?”

Caroline laughed out loud and then stood up and walked toward the fire, holding out her hands for warmth. “Black Beauty, of course.” She turned toward Samantha, her exquisite features delicately lit by the fire until she looked almost like a carefully etched cameo, or a porcelain figure.

“Has anyone told you lately how beautiful you are, Aunt Caro?” It was the name Barbara had used for her, and this time there were tears in Caroline's eyes.

“Bless you, Sam. You're as blind as ever.”

“The hell I am.” She grinned and nibbled at the rest of her sandwich before taking a sip of the hot chocolate that Caroline had poured from a Thermos jug. She was the same gracious hostess she always had been in the days when Samantha had first visited the ranch and all the way back to her legendary parties in Hollywood in 1933. “So.” Sam's face sobered slowly. “I guess you want to know about John. I don't suppose there's much more than what I told you the other night on the phone. He had an affair, he got her pregnant, he left me, they got married, and now they await the birth of their first child.”

“You say it so succinctly.” Then after a moment, “Do you hate him?”

“Sometimes.” Sam's voice fell to a whisper. “Most of the time I just miss him and wonder if he's all right. I wonder if she knows that he's allergic to wool socks. I wonder if anyone buys him the kind of coffee he loves, if he's sick or healthy or happy or freaked out, if he remembers to take his asthma medicine on a trip… if -if he's sorry-” She stopped and then looked back at Caroline still standing by the fire. “That sounds crazy, doesn't it? I mean, the man walked out on me, cheated on me, dumped me, and now he doesn't even call to find out how I am, and I worry that his feet itch because his wife might make a mistake and buy him wool socks. Is that crazy?” She laughed but it was suddenly a half sob. “Isn't it?” And then she squeezed her eyes shut again. Slowly she shook her head, keeping her eyes tightly closed, as though by closing them she wouldn't see the images that had danced in her head for so long. “God, Caro, it was so awful and so public.” She opened her eyes. “Didn't you read about it?”