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"No. You two will stay in the house with Margaret, Penny, and me. You will each have your own room. Grace is staying in the guest residence in back."

Lucy pondered the coming weeks not only with the Greens but also with their guest. She and Edith would soon live with an abused wife who would soon become a single mother. Lucy could not imagine anything more distressing, at least at the not-so-distressing age of eighteen.

Well, that was not exactly true. War widows had it bad, too, and she had seen more than a few of them. She knew many women in Falmouth who singlehandedly raised the children of the men who had not come home. Many had fallen into poverty. A few had resorted to desperate measures to support their families. Life could be so dreadfully unfair.

Lucy looked at her uncle as he drove north from the city and noticed the lines on his face and the sadness in his eyes. She could see that the war, and perhaps the plight of Grace Smith, had exacted a price on him as well.

Lucy settled into her seat and thought about her future as the car rolled past fields, evergreens, and the houses that many, if not all, Americans lived in. She knew that she was bound by no limits. Like Edith, she could do anything she wanted in this vast country.

She could earn a college degree, begin a career, and even make a name for herself. She could do all the things that the poor and uneducated could not. She could even make good money doing them! But Lucy knew that success alone could not bring the fulfillment she craved. She was a lover and a giver, and lovers and givers had to love and give a lot to have a fulfilling life.

She peered again out her window and saw a man standing by the side of the road. Dressed in rags, he leaned against a row of mailboxes, stuck out a thumb, and waited for a ride that would probably never come. Maybe Edith was more right than wrong.

Lucy thought again of her possibilities as Alistair drove his car into the rural enclave of Kenmore. She did not know what she would do with her life, but she knew that whatever she did she would dedicate herself to the service of others and the pursuit of
their
happiness. Optimists had a place in the world and there was no time like the present to put that optimism to work.

CHAPTER 40: EDITH

Edith dropped her latest read,
In Defense of Women
by H.L. Mencken, to her lap and shook her head. She loved her sister like the sun and the moon but was growing seriously weary of her Pollyannaish view of humanity.

Of course there were women like Grace Smith. There were millions of them. They were the handiwork of bad and smelly men who maintained and exploited a system specifically geared to their interests and gratification.

Thankfully, there were good men as well. Mencken was one, she thought. So were Lincoln Steffens, Booker Washington, and that dashing American president she had read so much about.

Papa was a good man too. He had always put the welfare of his daughters before his own, whether leaving his shop to care for them when they were ill or putting them in an academy that he could not afford. He had encouraged them to seek college degrees and careers in the United States, despite the obvious hardships. If Edith did nothing else in life, she would make him proud and validate his faith and encouragement a hundred times over.

"Uncle, are all of the academic programs at the university open to women?"

"I believe they are, Edith. Most, of course, are still dominated by men. I dare say that if you choose to become a lawyer or an engineer, you will find yourself in a distinct minority. I can assure you, however, that the number of women even in these programs is increasing every year. I imagine someday that their representation will be quite comparable."

"I thought so. Thank you."

Edith knew that Alistair spoke the truth. She had heard as much from others. She knew that America was a different kind of country, where anyone with intelligence and drive, even women, could reach the pinnacles of their professions. She applauded many recent changes in state and federal law and the efforts of suffragettes as they tore down the last vestiges of oppression.

She was excited about other things, of course, including things she could see from the car and had seen on the train trip from New York. She eagerly anticipated exploring this beautiful corner of the continent and experiencing its splendors. She had heard about the dormant volcano that loomed over Washington like an American Kilimanjaro and the vast inland sea that separated Seattle from a lush peninsula to the west.

She wanted to see the rest of America, too, with its beaches, canyons, deserts, and bustling cities teeming with tall buildings, automobiles, and modern factories. The United States did not have castles, palaces, and Roman ruins, but it had just about everything else.

Edith also looked forward to meeting interesting people and making new friends. She wanted to immerse herself in this society of free thinkers, artists, and entrepreneurs. Though she missed many of her peers in Falmouth, she knew that she had had no choice but to leave.

Personal growth required reaching out and branching out. It required moving beyond comfortable confines and seeking greater rewards in unfamiliar ones. She was an American now, at least in spirit, and planned to make the most of every opportunity.

Edith looked out a side window and counted houses as the car sped toward its destination. The imposing residences that excited Lucy were becoming fewer in number and more widely spaced. They were heading out of the city and into the country.

"Will we be there soon?" Edith asked.

"Indeed, we will," Alistair said. "The traffic is light today. You will see your aunt and cousin in twenty minutes, maybe less."

"I can't wait to meet them. Have you told Penny about us?"

"I've told her only that her delightful cousins from England are coming to spoil her."

"You tease us, Uncle!"

"I do no such thing, Edith. If you don't spoil her before dinner, you will both go hungry."

Lucy laughed.

"I will spoil her rotten, dinner or no dinner," she said forcefully. "I've never had a little sister, so I will make up for lost time."

Edith looked at Lucy and laughed to herself. She knew that Lucy meant it. She had wanted a little sister for at least as long as she could remember. Not a doll or a dog or even a friend her age, but a little sister, someone she could mentor and fuss over.

Mama had seemed committed to giving her one. For years she had told Edith and Lucille that she had wanted to have another child. For years she had asked Papa to paint a small bedroom upstairs and fix a broken crib. But she never had the opportunity to fill that crib. When influenza swept through Falmouth like a wildfire in 1908, it claimed Julia Green, and a tight-knit family on the west end of town had to modify its dreams and expectations.

Edith looked back at those early years with sadness and longing. She could still remember some of the smallest details of family life: the egg-and-sausage breakfasts on Saturday mornings, the weekend trips to London, and the summer picnics on Land's End, where they watched great ships from all over the world leave and enter the English Channel.

She missed the mother whose face had become fainter in her mind with each passing year. She missed the life she'd once had. But she was proud of the way she had adjusted to adversity and even prouder of the way she had guided Lucille through that difficult time.

Edith had always been the dominant twin and when Mama had died she had vowed to be not only a better sister but also a capable mentor and protector. She knew even then that the world could be cruel to girls without mothers and had thus made it her mission to insulate her sibling from its vicious sting.

As she studied her sister, Edith could see that she had succeeded. Lucy had retained her childlike innocence. She still looked at the world the way an eight-year-old with a mother looked at the world: with faith and optimism. She might not get far that way in the dog-eat-dog worlds of academia and commerce, but she would certainly do well in another realm.

Edith smiled when she thought again of Lucy's promise to spoil Penny. She would do it, just as surely as she would spoil everyone around her. Edith knew that if her sister did nothing else in life, she would make a terrific cousin and niece and wife and mother.

The reason why was as clear now as it had always been. Lucy loved and empathized in ways that Edith could not and saw value in the very domestic trappings that Edith sought to escape.

Lucy's calling would not be a career but rather the home – her home. Edith envied the husband and children who would someday be a part of it.

CHAPTER 41: GRACE

If there is one thing Grace Smith had learned in two months, it's that the automobiles of 1918 were noisy. None had twenty-first century mufflers or insulation. Most had distinctive sounds that you could hear a quarter mile away.

So when Grace heard the distinctive sound of Alistair's Oldsmobile as it turned off the gravel access road and started up the Greens' long driveway, she knew it was time to step away from the dining room table, where she enjoyed coffee with Margaret, and look out the front window of the living room. The travelers had arrived.

She followed Margaret out the front door into the surprisingly bright November sun and saw three people sit inside a parked car. Alistair sat behind the wheel and exited first. He opened the rear door on the driver's side, pulled two large suitcases from the back, and placed them on the ground. He then walked over to the passenger side and opened both doors.

The young woman in back stepped out of the vehicle. She wore a dark blue velvet travel suit and projected the confidence of someone who knew who she was, where she was going, and why she was here. Grace didn't need a family photo album to recognize Aunt Edith.

The woman in front took more time getting out. She wore a yellow cotton dress that was conspicuously out of season but more than ideal for someone with a sunny disposition. She smiled, took a deep breath, and threw her arms to the sky, as if trying to experience the Pacific Northwest with every sense available to her.

Grace stopped at the end of the walk to take stock of someone she had not seen in more than six years, in relative time, and never at the age of eighteen. She was more beautiful in person than in even the fondest of memories, with long platinum hair, crystal blue eyes, and a face that belonged in a painting.

Mother.

Alistair carried the bags toward the walk and dropped them when his wife came out to meet him. He then turned and extended his arm toward his passengers, who approached cautiously.

"Edith and Lucy, I'd like you to meet my wife, your Aunt Margaret."

"It's a pleasure," the twins said in stereo as they took another step forward.

"Oh, enough of that," Margaret said. "Let me give you a hug."

Grace laughed to herself as she watched American hospitality overwhelm British restraint. Margaret Green did nothing halfway.

"I'm sorry Penny's not here to greet you," Margaret said. "She's at school. The county decided to reopen the schools just last week. The influenza has made quite a mess of things around here. But you will see her later this afternoon. She's very excited to meet you."

"I can't wait," Lucy said.

Grace glanced at Alistair and relaxed a bit when he nodded and returned a smile. She could see that he fully understood and appreciated the importance of this moment.

Alistair stepped behind his nieces, put an arm around each, and steered them toward the woman on the walk. He dropped his arms when they reached their destination.

"Edith and Lucy, this is Grace Smith, a friend of the family who has been staying with us."

"Hello," Edith said.

"Hello," Lucy added.

"Hello," Grace said.

And with that, three women once separated by time, space, and death were reunited.

CHAPTER 42: EDITH

Saturday, November 29, 1918

Edith Green fancied herself as many things. She was a progressive, of course, a person who believed in and advocated social reform and liberal ideas. She was also a voracious reader, a capable writer, and a knitter and a cook of the first order.

Most of all, she was an astute observer of the human race. She could read people and situations as well as anyone she knew and draw conclusions almost as well as Dickens and Twain.

Grace Smith, however, had put that talent to the test. After twenty-four hours in her company, Edith could conclude only that Uncle Alistair's boarder looked a lot like Lucy, spoke a lot like Edith, and acted a lot like no one she had ever known. Nearly everything about this woman was a mystery – a mystery she wanted to solve.

"How long have you known the family?" Edith asked Grace. She folded linens from an uncomfortable chair in the guest residence. "Uncle hasn't told us much."

"I've known your aunt and uncle only a few weeks. They learned about me through their friend, Dr. Hubbard, and did a very Christian and charitable thing by taking me in," Grace said as she tucked in a fresh sheet on one side of her bed. Lucy provided assistance on the other side. "I'm sure you know about my situation."

"I do."

Grace slipped a case over a pillow, smoothed a wrinkle on the sheet, and looked at Edith.

"Do you think any less of me?"

"I most certainly do not," Edith said. "I think it was very brave of you to leave your husband. If more women left brutish men, then the world would be a better place. I'm sure Lucy feels the same way. Isn't that so, sister?"

Edith placed a folded sheet atop a pile that she had started and eagerly awaited validation of her progressive opinion. She was mildly surprised when her sibling did not speak right away.

"How do you feel about my situation, Lucy?" Grace asked.

"I think your situation is terribly sad," Lucy said as she slipped a case over a pillow on her side of the bed. "I do not share my sister's opinion of men in general, but I do believe you did the right thing. No woman should allow herself to be mistreated."