Mona, Allan, and Melanie went out to the stores one pearly morning in early summer--when the fog was still on the bay--a cool, clean morning, luminous as a pearl. It was Juliet's birthday the next week--Mona was determined that she would buy her a new hat. Allan would help her pick it out. Juliet didn't often wear hats but when Mona Cash had been a child her mother had gotten a new hat every year on the anniversary of her birth--and to Mona forevermore would a hat be a birthdayish thing. And she had seen the most alluring little blue-green cloche that would look adorable on Juliet's shining hair--but then, everything looked adorable on Juliet. Still, she wanted Allan's approval. Later they would go to the jewellers and Mona would help Allan pick out something shining and golden. No cameos this time--Mona was thinking of emeralds, as green as the heart of a summer day.

It was early but already the city was bustling. By the time they got to the milliner's the line had grown so long that when they came out it was already noon. Mona tucked the box with the hat in it under her arm and she and her companions went smilingly to the little Italian café Juliet and Allan were so wild about. They ordered coffees and a happy, chattering Anoushka showed them to a table--a special table right by the window--one that she had been saving for them. While Allan read the paper and Melanie rested her feet and played with her paper dolls, Mona sipped the bitter liquid and peered into the throngs of people passing by outside.

One man, taller than most of the others, paused to peer in--his eyes caught Mona's own--they widened--he stared a moment longer, then shook his head and hurried on. But Mona was still peering after him. She rose--flushed and paled in rapid succession--trembled--she had to hold onto the table until her knuckles turned white so she would not fall.

"What is it?" Allan asked in alarm. "You look as though you've seen a ghost!" But his voice did not register to the perturbed Mona.

"Mother?" asked Melanie, frightened and wide-eyed.

"Barry! Barry!" Mona cried. It was part-way between a wail of grief and a trumpet of victory. Then she let go of the table and slumped, unconscious, to the floor.

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"It was him" said Mona through white lips to Juliet. It was later that afternoon and the sun came through the window and rested on her red-gold curls. She looked like Joan of Arc--firm and resolved to do battle. "Maggie says my mind was playing tricks on me, but Juliet. It was him. I've thought I've seen him before--there was a time when I thought I saw him in every crowd. But this time I swear I was not mistaken--he was there. You must believe me. It was!"

Juliet reached under Maggie's bedcovers and clasped her hand. The weight of the secret Allan told her had rested heavily on her heart for weeks now--she felt it moving to her lips--it was on the tip of her tongue--so she spoke it. She looked over at Allan first, and his eyes told her she might.

"It was him," she said. And then she told Mona everything.

When she finished she expected Mona to burst into tears--or at least to rail at her for keeping such a secret. But Mona did neither. Her face grew more and more radiant until she looked as if she would burst into flame. Her lips turned up tremblingly in a smile--her eyes grew wide and amazed. She looked like a woman stricken with joy.

"Mona--dearest--say something," Juliet begged. The poor girl was probably in shock--Juliet wondered if they should call a doctor. But finally Mona spoke.

"He lives!" she called to the world, triumphant. And then her face crumpled like paper and the tears finally came.

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"Put on your new hat," said Mona when she appeared in the kitchen of Forget-Me-Not the next morning. "I want you to wear it out today."

Juliet paused with a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth. She noticed that Mona was not wearing her usual attire of a shirtwaist and skirt. She looked very well--she was wearing a dinky little blue seersucker suit--smart buckled shoes--a swell little straw hat was perched on her head. She looked young and glamorous--the lines around her eyes and mouth were gone and her face looked like that of a girl. "Where are we going?" Juliet asked warily.

"Mrs. Thomas Ashbury--that's Barry's mother, darling--is having a brunch this morning to raise funds for the Bay Area Ladies Recitation Group--all are invited to attend. So--we're going to."

"I didn't know you cared a whit for the Ladies Recitation Group," said Juliet slowly.

"I don't--they can all fall into the sea for what I care," said Mona archly. She crossed her legs and swung her foot in its little shoe. Back and forth--back and forth. "But I heard from Sarah Pierce--she's the housekeeper at Ashcroft--that Barry's staying with his mother until he gets back on his feet. He's bound to be there, so I will, too. And so will you. Please, Juliet, I can't go alone."

Juliet pressed her lips together. She had a terrible feeling of foreboding. There was bound to be trouble if Mrs. Ashbury saw Mona there--and Barry...well, if Barry had wanted to see Mona, surely he would have called? But then Juliet looked at Mona's radiant face and picked herself up from her seat.

"Give me two minutes to get dressed," she said. "Then we'll go."

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Ashcroft was a beautiful house--and quite as big as New Moon. Maybe even bigger than Priest Pond, and certainly grander. Sweeping white columns flanked the front door and Juliet could see a massive chandelier sparkling in the front hallway.

"But overall it is a charmless house," she thought. "New Moon has more charm and allure in one of it's windows than this house has altogether."

A maid in a starched white uniform opened the door. "Miss Cash!" she said in a whisper. "Oh--oh the missus won't like that you're here--!"

"Then the missus can throw me out herself," said Mona in a strong, loud voice. "She won't make you do her dirty work this time, Sarah Pierce."

Juliet signed the guestbook primly--Mrs. Allan Miller. But Mona inked her own name with broad, sweeping strokes. Then the two women swept into the dining room, where every action stopped. Women turned and stared. Forks raised halfway to mouths and then froze. A lady with a bust like a ship's prow--obviously Mrs. Ashcroft, decked out in furs and pearls--pearls! In the middle of the morning!--was distracted while pouring a glass of champagne and it bubbled up over the rim and onto the tablecloth. Mona saw none of this. Her eyes were fixed on the one man in the room, a man with golden hair and pale, creamy skin--a man that could have been Juliet's Allan's twin. He was standing by a window smoking a cigarette and he turned when all the action in the room stopped, a puzzled look on his face.

"Hello, Barry," said Mona, rapturously.

"Well, hello, Dez," said he. And then, "Will you all excuse me, please? I think I'm going to go out for some air."

And that was all he said.

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It was torture to see the look on Mona's face. The light had gone out of her eyes, and every muscle in her body had gone slack. She had given up--the fight had gone out of her--it pained Juliet to see her so.

Mrs. Ashbury was too polite to confront her and so far no one had asked them to leave. It simply wasn't the way things were done. But Mona and Juliet were ostracized in other ways. No one spoke to them, or even glanced their way. Juliet was fiercely glad she had come--she had a vision of Mona sitting alone on the couch while everyone else snubbed her, and her heart turned over with fury.

"Please, darling, let's go," she said to Mona after too much time had passed.

Mona looked as if she might protest--for a second a gleam of spirit played across her face--but then she sagged, defeated again. "All right," she agreed.

No one bade them farewell or thanked them for coming. Or even seemed to notice they were going. But as Juliet pulled the door shut behind her, she heard a buzz begin to pick up in the room of women.

They picked their way down the front path in silence. Juliet couldn't take that silence--it was too heavy and oppressive. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mona beat her to it.

"I thought he loved me," said Mona quietly. "But perhaps I made too much of it--we were only children--and it was so long ago. I feel ashamed for being so disappointed--surely if I really loved him, it would be enough that he is alive--and safe? Juliet--mayn't we ramble through those gardens before we go? I have so many happy memories--Barry and I used to tryst there--I just want to go there once more to say--goodbye."

They walked through the gardens of Ashcroft like wandering ghosts. They were nice gardens, full of roses and peonies, with the smell of lavender everywhere.

'There is a little bench over here where Barry and I--oh!"

Juliet and Mona turned a corner and beheld a tall figure sitting on that very bench.

"Barry! I--Juliet--please--"

Juliet pretended not to hear Mona and marched forthrightly up to where Barry Ashbury sat.

"Hello," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm Juliet Miller--I believe my husband Allan is a sort of colleague of yours. It's awfully nice to meet you. And--" this said archly, "I believe you know my friend, Desdemona Cash."

She was determined he wouldn't ignore Mona--she would make him speak--even if they did not like what he said.

The man--Mona's Barry--raised the crystal-cut glass he held to her. "So you've kept your name, Dez," he said appreciatively--and bitterly. "You always were a modern little thing. Well--good for you!" He drank.

"Barry--I am so glad--I want to wish you--I'm so glad you are safe!" said Mona, her eyes burning like hot coals.

"Are you?" said Barry, not sarcastically, but as if he really wanted to know. "I'm not--I wish I was dead, after all. I saw the headstone Mother put up for me in the churchyard--it's grand, isn't it? And I've heard reports of my funeral, also grand--but I had to spoil it all and muddle it up. The things I've seen--" At this he removed his glasses and put his fingers over his eyes and pressed hard. "There is nothing to erase that--though when I was in the camp, Mo, your face came close. But there's nothing for me here, now. Let us part ways with a kiss, though--for old times sake?"

"No--no," said Mona, the passion seeping back into her voice. "I don't want a kiss for old time's sake."

"Well, then," said Barry, rising. "We'll just part ways. Give your husband my regards." His voice was cool.

"My--what?"

"Your husband," said Barry, looking flustered now. "The tall man I saw you with--when I passed the café yesterday--"

"That was my husband!" Juliet burst out, understanding now. Oh, it all made sense. Barry had seen them and thought--well, what else could he think? "Mona isn't married--she isn't!"

"But what about the child? I saw you with a little girl, Dez--and you, Mrs. Miller, don't try to tell me she was yours, too. She is the spitting image of Mona at that age."

"No, she is mine," Mona said. "But Barry--you really don't know? She is yours, darling! She is yours!"

The glass he was holding fell to the pavement and melted into a thousand pieces. Mona flew to him.

"Her name is Melanie--she is seven years old, she'll be eight in August--she is beautiful, and she says the funniest things that sound like you--she's so smart, Bear, honest she is--she has the most delicious little curls on the back of her neck--oh, you'll love her and she'll love you, she will!"

"I have a little girl," said Barry with an amazed smile. He sat down uncertainly. "I have a little girl?"

"You have a little girl." Mona knelt by his feet and clasped his hand.

"And Mo--you don't have anyone yourself? No husbands--no boyfriends--?"

"There is no one but you," said Mona, and he touched her hair. "You have me, too--you always have--Bear, when I thought you were dead, I was dead too--but now you are living and so am I!"

Then rich, prosperous Barry Ashbury slid off of his seat onto the ground next to poor Mona Cash. He kissed her again and again and cried into her neck, and whispered into her ear many, many declarations of love.

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I can't believe that I left this story for so long. I apologize--and hope you'll review. This was a fun chapter to write.