On Wednesday evening Mary said she needed some fresh air and insisted on taking her evening walk outside. She managed to make her arduous way down the front steps on her crutches, then, with Tess at her side, headed down the block. It was a pretty evening. The mourning doves were calling softly from the telephone wires on the street, and Mary's neighbors came out to wish her well when they saw her passing. She and Tess were a block away from home when Kenny came driving by, swerved over to the curb and stopped. He leaned across the empty passenger seat and called out the open window, "Walking pretty good there, Mary!"

"Practicing for walking down that aisle at Rachel's wedding. You can roll me out of that church in my wheelchair. but I'm walking in, by gum."

A beat passed while Kenny and Tess exchanged glances, then he said, belatedly, "Hello, Tess. Missed you at choir practice last night."

"Sorry. I was busy."

"I take that to mean you're only singing the one Sunday."

"I think so."

"Well… that's disappointing. People were asking."

He paused another moment, then said, "Well… Faith's got a dead shrub that needs replacing so I'd better get over there. See you around." Without another glance at Tess he slid over, put the car in gear and drove away.

She felt just awful watching him go-the lump in the chest, the emptiness in the heart, the longing to follow him and say, Let's talk about this. But what was there to talk about? Their situation was hopeless and they both knew it.

On Sunday she went to the earlier church service in order to avoid singing in the choir. Shortly before noon Casey called and said, "Hey, where were you?"

"I went to the earlier service with Rachel's family."

"But we thought you'd come and sing with the choir again!"

"No, I missed practice."

"'But Dad wouldn't have benched you for missing practice! My gosh, you're Tess McPhail!"

"Listen, Casey…" Tess's voice held a plea for understanding. "It… it just worked out best this way, okay?"

"Oh." And after a pause, meekly, "Okay… I guess. Hey, did something go wrong between you and Dad last Sunday?"

"No, nothing."

"Oh, good. Well, listen, you want to go riding again today?"

"No, I don't think so, Casey. I've got things to do here."

"Oh. Well… okay. But when will I see you again?"

"Stop in anytime. Otherwise, next Saturday at the wedding, for sure."

"Okay. Well, hey, take it easy, and say hi to Mary."

Casey popped in a couple times that week, reporting that Kenny had been difficult to live with. Casey said she thought he must've had a fight with Faith, although to the best of her knowledge, they never fought.

For six days Tess glimpsed him only through windows, but every time she thought about Saturday, when she would see him at the wedding, a queer tightness caught her just beneath the heart and she'd find her hands idle.

It had been over three weeks since Mary's surgery. She got stronger. She felt increasingly better. Feeling better, she seemed to argue less. By Thursday Tess thought it was time to broach the subject that had been on her mind since the night she arrived.

Mary had wanted to eat supper in the living room in front of the evening news, so Tess had set them up on a Duncan Phyfe occasional table that she hauled over in front of Mary's chair, bringing in a kitchen chair for herself. They'd finally had a meal with no clashes. Tess had found something that pleased them both, a taco salad in which she'd cut down the fatty ingredients in her own and added more of them to Mary's. The news was over and they were fin-ishing up their meal when Tess said, "Mom, I've arranged a surprise for you."

"For me?" Mary said, surprised already.

"On Saturday morning at eight o'clock a hairdresser named Niki is coming to fix your hair for the wedding and she'll do anything you want. Color it, perm it, cut it-anything."

Mary looked amazed. "Right here at home?"

"That's right."

"Why, I never heard of such a thing."

"It can be done. I thought you'd like to get it fixed for the wedding."

"This Niki-she's not from Judy's shop?"

"No, she's not. Judy and her girls are doing all the bridal party that morning so they'll be busy. But she said Niki will do a good job for you."

"Well… my goodness." Mary continued to look amazed.

"That's all right with you then?"

"Well, sure!" she said enthusiastically.

"And, Momma, there's one other thing I wanted to ask you about." This issue was perhaps even more delicate than the hair, but if she didn't bring it up, who would? "You know that pretty green silk trouser suit I sent you last year from Seattle? Have you worn it yet?"

"I tried it on."

"But you haven't worn it."

"Well, it's… it's awfully expensive-I could see that."

"Why don't you wear it for the wedding? It would be perfect, since your legs have to be wrapped in those ugly stockings all the time. What do you say, Momma?"

"I was going to wear this other pants suit that I got last spring. It's perfectly good and I've only worn it a few times."

Tess's first reaction was anger, and she got up and started stacking their dirty dishes, trying to swallow a little lump of hurt that had grown into a stone in her throat. She had a pyramid of dirty dishes in her hands before she changed her mind, set them back down and dropped to one knee beside Mary's chair. "Mom, I need to tell you something that I'm not sure you'll understand, but…" Taking Mary's hand in both of her own she looked up into her mother's aging brown eyes. "Listen, Momma, I don't know how else to say this. I'm rich. May I say it without sounding like I'm blowing my own horn? It's a fact of life now. I'm very, very rich, and it gives me great pleasure to send you things. Nice things from stores you never get to see because you don't get the chance to travel like I do. But it hurts my feelings when you won't even try to use them."

"Oh, dear… well, I… I guess I never thought of that. I just always think those things are too grand for Winter-green, Missouri."

"I'm not sending them for Wintergreen, I'm sending them for you."

Mary sat awhile, looking somber and somewhat stricken. Finally she glanced away, then back at her daughter.

"Well, since you're being honest, let me be honest, too. Sometimes when you send things I think it's because you know you should come to see me yourself, but you're too busy to take the time. Maybe that's why I sometimes don't use them. Because if the truth be told, I'd rather have you than all the fancy presents in the world."

Mary's words stung sharply for they were true, and Tess at last admitted it. How many times had she been charging through some store in a far-off city and spied something for Mary, but while she was waiting for her credit card to be processed a guilty thought would come niggling: You should go see her instead. But it was so much easier to send gifts. It infringed so much less on her busy work schedule.

There were people in this world who had no mothers, who would count themselves blessed to have a loving one like this, yet Tess not only saw Mary less often than she should, she found fault with her vagaries and took issue with petty aggravations that love should overlook. Now here she was, looking up into Mary's face, which appeared decidedly older at this moment. The impression of age was amplified by the limitations put upon her by the new hip, for she sat on the stiff chair with her knees spread and her ankles uncrossed. Her crutches waited at arms' reach and her face was swagged with sadness. Tess could see in the line of Mary's jowls and in the pattern of creases around her eyes and mouth the stamp her own aging would leave upon her face. An unwanted image came, of the day when Tess would be Mary's age, and Mary would be gone. Who knew how many more years they had?

"I'm sorry, Mom," Tess said softly. "I'll try to do better."

Mary reached out and put a hand on Tess's hair. "You know how proud I am of you, don't you, dear?"

Tess nodded with tears in her eyes.

"And I know what it took for you to get where you are. But, Tess, we're your family, and you only get one of those."

"I know," Tess whispered, choked.

They remained in that tableau, each accepting what the other had said, Mary on the stiff, high chair, Tess kneeling to her, the dinner remains spread on the old-fashioned parlor table while the low sun streamed in from the west. Outside, a dog began barking and somebody whistled, silencing him. The details of that moment would come back to both women in the days to come, for they had not felt closer since Tess graduated from high school and loaded up her car to head for Nashville.

"Now I'll tell you what you do," Mary said, forcing brightness into her voice. "You go in my closet and you find that pretty slacks suit that you sent me, and get it ironed up for Saturday, and when this Niki finishes my hair, I'll put it on and do you girls proud at that wedding. How's that?"

Tess stretched up and kissed her mother's cheek. "Thanks, Mom," she said, and smiled.

Tess called Renee later that night after Mary was in bed sound asleep.

"I got Momma to agree to leave her old polyester pants suit in the closet."

"Oh, Tess, did you really? You're a miracle worker!"

"She's wearing the one I sent her from Seattle last year."

"Super! It's so beautiful and Rachel will really be happy to hear this. Tess, I owe you one."

"That's not all."

"Don't tell me she's having her hair done!"

"That's what I'm telling you. Right here at home. I hired someone to come in and do it."

Without a wisp of jealousy, Renee remarked, "It must be fun to have enough money to be able to do things like that."