Let me first express my thanks for the kind reviews several of you took the time to post. They absolutely made my day! My goal is to publish a new chapter on a weekly basis. Please forgive me when I fall short of that goal. :-)

A couple of notes on this chapter: the choice of sapphires was deliberate in that the sapphire represents loyalty and fidelity, and many also attribute this gem with healing powers. It is also the birthstone for the month of September, which is the month of George's birth and sadly, Matthew's death. All in all, I thought it was the best choice for this story. I also heard from several of you that you want to get to know our mystery man from the train better. I'm glad to hear this, because he will be making another appearance very soon...just not in this chapter. I felt that Mary had some battles she still needed to face on the home front and steps to take on her own before meeting him again. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2

Disembarking the train in Rippon was proving to be a bit more difficult as George was now quite awake and doing his best to break free of the confinement of his mother's arms.

"Now that is enough," Mary scolded wondering just who taught children the horrible trick of suddenly going limp. Finding it nearly impossible to keep him in her arms and reach for her bags, she was vastly relieved to hear a warm, familiar voice from behind her.

"You'd best listen to your mother, young man," Tom smiled as he held out his arms towards his nephew, giving him a toss in the air after the boys flew into his arms. "Enough is enough."

George squealed in delight as he went airborne another time, clapping his hands as he babbled, "Gin! Gin!"

"One more time, then," Tom complied, throwing him just high enough to make Mary's heart skip a beat.

"One day you will throw him too high," she stated calmly, raising an eyebrow at her brother-in-law, "and you'll have to contend with me."

"Perish the thought!" he exclaimed with a laugh as they began to make their way to the car. "And don't give me the 'Lady Mary' look. I don't fall for it anymore, but it does give me the shivers just the same."

"I only give you that look when you deserve it, dearest brother," Mary retorted quickly, a small grin tugging at the side of her mouth. "After all, someone has to keep you in line."

"Now you sound like your grandmother," Tom cracked, opening the door for Mary as the porter put her bags in the car. He handed George back to his mother, tousling his hair and making the boys laugh again.

"You love your favorite uncle, now don't you, Georgie?" Tom asked before sliding in on the other side of the car behind the wheel.

"He doesn't have much choice in the matter, seeing as you are his only uncle," Mary quipped, settling the child in her lap as Tom started the car.

"I've never paid much attention to technicalities," Tom retorted, glancing over his shoulder at the pair of them.

"That is an understatement," Mary replied dryly causing her brother-in-law to turn around and face her before beginning their journey home.

"Well, it's only my opinion, dearest sister, but it certainly looks and sounds as if this day has done you a world of good," Tom stated, nodding his head in approval.

"And what makes you say that?" Mary questioned, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"You," Tom smiled, looking her squarely in the eye. "You've got some of your spirit back, and I for one am certainly glad to see it."

She quite suddenly had nothing to say and sat perfectly still, gazing at him thoughtfully before finally replying, "I'm not sure, Tom." She took a deep breath and continued, "I know I still have a long way to go, but I do feel lighter than I have since…"

"You don't have to say it," he cut it, observing her struggle to form the words that still tore at her heart. "I understand—perfectly."

"I know you do," Mary replied gratefully. In many ways she was thankful to have Tom so close. Their shared losses had bound them together and forged an odd kinship that had been instrumental in pulling her through the past year. Yet how could she be thankful for his understanding of her pain when it meant the loss of her sister? Mary was simply too tired from the day's events to ponder such intricacies at the moment, so she chose to relax a few minutes in the company of her dearest friend. How odd that such a designation would now belong to her former chauffeur.

"I must say that I'm really proud of the way you took charge of your day," Tom continued as they turned on the road to Downton. "I know it wasn't easy for you to challenge the family like that."

"No, it wasn't" Mary agreed, "But I am glad we did it." She hesitated a moment before braving her next question. "Has Papa gone on about it terribly today?"

"He has been surprisingly silent on the subject, actually. He even admitted to me at breakfast that perhaps this outing was for the best." Tom answered, but the tone of his voice suggested to Mary that something had been left unsaid.

"What is it, Tom? What are you not telling me?" Mary insisted, an uneasiness beginning to stir in her stomach.

"What makes you think I'm keeping something from you?" he asked, already knowing that she would not let the issue drop.

"Because you are a terrible liar, Tom Branson," she replied hastily, "and you are absolutely horrible at keeping secrets."

"Now you're wrong there," he insisted. "I can keep a secret—just not when they involve doing something behind someone's back."

Oh, dear, there was indeed something in the works of which she knew nothing. Knowing her family as she did, Mary could already assume that they would have the best of intentions, but their idea would more than likely set her teeth on edge.

"Alright, Tom," she stated flatly, "You know that you must now tell me everything."

"Yes, I do," Tom answered, glancing back at her in the rear-view mirror. "That's actually why I volunteered to come and meet you at the station. I figured that this would be the perfect opportunity for me to give you a bit of a warning."

"A warning," she repeated, her voice deceptively calm, "Oh, dear. It must be serious, indeed." Mary's insides were now churning, wondering just what her parents and grandmother could have concocted without her knowledge. Surely they had not invited a potential suitor to Downton? It was much too soon for that! Warm bile pushed its way up her throat as she contemplated that possibility. She knew that she did not yet have the strength to ward off unwanted advances without pain constantly piercing her heart as she would undoubtedly compare every man to Matthew. Mary truly did not believe that she would ever be able to love again, and quite honestly she was fairly certain that she did not want to do so. With love came pain—a pain that she absolutely knew would destroy her if she ever had to walk through it again.

No—it was much more prudent to remain distant and guard her heart. Besides, there would never be a man to whom she felt such an attraction as she did to her Matthew—never! Unwittingly, a pair of beguiling dimples and warm, brown eyes flashed in her mind, making her shut her eyes and shake her head in denial of such thoughts. No! Suitors had no place in her life, or in George's for that matter. And thankfully now that the question of George's inheritance had been settled, Mary did not need a man in her life to secure their future. No—she had no need for anyone save her family.

"Are you feeling alright?" Tom asked, concerned as he noticed the pallor of her face when he glanced at her in the mirror again. "Do I need to pull over, Mary?"

"No! No—I am very well," she replied, knowing that she could not tell even Tom the thoughts that had just flashed through her mind. He had been a widower more than a year longer than Mary a widow, yet he had never even noticed another woman—at least not to Mary's knowledge. What would he think of her if she told him that she had actually thought a strange man attractive today—even if only for a few minutes?

Besides, she wasn't ready to even admit to herself that she had thought another man handsome. How could she possibly admit it to Tom?

Rather than confessing her doubts, Mary inquired, "Just what is my family planning, Tom? Am I going to be completely horrified?"

"Probably," Tom admitted, chuckling to himself, "but it's really not as bad as it could be."

"Oh, for God's sake, would you just tell me?" she finally snapped, making her brother-in-law laugh in earnest at her impatience.

"Alright," he acquiesced, adding with a grin, "but you must promise not to give me away. I'll deny ever telling you if you do."

"Done," Mary stated without hesitation, now nearly beside herself with dread and anticipation of what was awaiting her at Downton.

"Well," Tom began, already dreading her reaction, "your parents have been really worried about you. Your mother and grandmother are convinced that you are depressed and have decided that it is time for them to take some sort of action."

He paused a moment, thinking of the best way to phrase the rest of what he had to tell her.

"And," Mary interrupted, quickly tiring of his hesitation, no matter how well-intentioned.

"And…they have decided to throw a house party in your and George's honor," Tom finished, glad to have the worst of it out in the open.

"A house party? Now? Have they lost their minds?"

The tone of Mary's voice left no doubt as to the extent of her anger. Tom drew a deep breath and stated, "I figured you'd be mad."

"You figured right," Mary put it, still reeling from the news. "And just when is this house party to take place? How much time do I have to devise some sort of plan to avoid it?"

Tom chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly before replying. "Only a few days—I believe they are due to arrive on Friday."

"What?" Mary was paralyzed with the news momentarily, understanding that there was very little likelihood of her being able to get out of the proceedings now. "How long have you known about this, Thomas Branson?"

"Not long at all," he replied quickly, knowing how her anger would burn if she suspected that she had been kept in the dark by him. He of all people understood her pain and would never try to deceive her. "Your mother informed me of their plans this morning."

"Before or after I left for London?" Mary inquired, her ire still prickling under her skin.

"After," he admitted a bit sheepishly. "I don't think your parents trusted that I wouldn't tell you once I knew. They wanted to make sure that I wouldn't give everything away…which of course, I just have."

His honesty and concern for her touched her heart, suddenly washing over Mary like a balm. "Thank you for watching out for me, Tom," she stated before sighing deeply. "I am not sure what I would do without you."

"Hey—we take care of each other," Tom interjected, smiling at her in the mirror. "Besides—your parents just might be right about this."

"What?" Mary interjected, not quite believing that Tom would side with her family in this matter. "You cannot be serious!"

"And why not?" he replied with a shrug. "I know you don't feel like entertaining, but having a bunch of people around might just be good for you. It could help take your mind off things…just for a few days."

"And is your mind ever off things?" she shot back, suddenly feeling very betrayed and wanting to hurt him for not being on her side. "Have you forgotten my sister already?"

At this statement, Tom looked around and gingerly pulled the car to the side of the road. He stopped the engine and turned around so he could face her squarely and look her in the eye.

"I'll never forget her, and you know that well," Tom replied gently, understanding the pain from where her sharp barbs came. "But, actually, yes—there are now times when I don't think about Sybil. At first, it terrified me and made me feel so guilty—like I was being untrue to her memory." He paused, looking out towards the sun setting behind a grassy field momentarily before softly stating, "But someone helped me realize that being able to move on doesn't mean I loved Sybil any less."

"Who?" Mary wondered, her pulse pounding in her ears as the conversation she had had earlier on the train began to replay in her mind.

"Your mother," Tom answered, smiling at the expression of disbelief that overtook Mary's face. "She's a very wise and loving woman, you know. She caught me crying in the garden one afternoon when I was feeling so guilty. I thought she might give me an ear-full when I confessed that I was actually feeling happier and more at peace with my life and not dwelling on losing Sybil as much as I had been."

"What did she say?" Mary asked, needing to know just what her mother had said to her son-in-law.

"She said that she was happy to hear it, that I shouldn't be living in the shadows anymore. She said that she still missed her deeply, too, but that Sybil wouldn't want us to dwell on the past."

He paused again, stating his next words very carefully.

"She said that Sybil would want me and Sybbie to move forward and be happy." Tom smiled, even as a few tears welled in his eyes and his voice cracked slightly. "I'll love your sister until the day that I die, Mary, and that's a fact. But your mother was right. It would be wrong of me to live my life in the past—wrong for my daughter and everyone else around me. Sybil wouldn't want that. She would want us to be happy."

Be happy…

A shiver crawled up her spine as her stomach began to flutter again. Mary felt as if her heart was going to pound out of her chest as she drew a deep breath trying to settle her nerves.

Your husband would want you to move on with your life—to take care of your son and be happy. Any man who loved his wife would want no less for her.

Mary cast her eyes down to her son, unable to meet Tom's eyes as those words played in her memory—the words of the man on the train.

"What if I'm not ready to move on, Tom?" she asked hesitantly, her voice so quiet that Tom barely heard her. "What if I never am?"

"Then you're not," he answered gently, smiling at her warmly as she finally met his eyes again. "But one day you will be, and I for one will be glad for it." He then reached back and softly laid a hand on her shoulder before concluding, "And so would Matthew."

Dear God—another tear? Would she never be rid of them this day? Mary quickly wiped it away, absolutely determined that no one at Downton would see her cry for the rest of the day. This was George's birthday—a celebration of his life—and she was resolute that what was left of this day would be completely his. He deserved that, and so much more.

"Let's go home, Tom, before it gets dark and everyone worries," Mary breathed, looking back up at her brother-in-law with a look of steely determination that he recognized all too well. He nodded, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze that released a small smile from her.

"Alright, then," he answered, turning back around and starting the engine. "Let's go."

The remainder of their short trip passed in a friendly yet charged silence. Mary was unsure of just how to greet her parents when they arrived home. Should she confront them concerning the house party? No—that would give Tom away entirely, and she had promised him that she would not do so. Should she feign a headache and go up to bed immediately? No—that would simply ruin the rest of George's birthday and convince her family that her London outing had been a terrible mistake. Her best option seemed to be to pretend ignorance over the entire thing and wait until one of them dared to tell her about it. Then she could unleash all of her ire over this ludicrous idea and beg them to reconsider. Of course, this could have been all Granny's doing, and in that case, resistance was futile.

It was probably futile already, Mary admitted to herself, knowing just how soon the guests were now due to arrive. And as frustrated as she was over the very idea of a house party to cheer her up, she would not want to disappear and embarrass her parents. She wondered with a small degree of panic just who was supposed to attend, praying fervently that any gentleman in attendance would either be married or much too old to be attracted to the thought of being attached to the mother of a toddler. But somehow, she knew better. There would be at least one or two quite eligible bachelors in the party—Mama and Granny would see to that. Poor chaps—they could not know just how meaningless their charms would be to her. Romance was the furthest thing from her mind, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Carson—of course! Carson could tell her what guests would be in attendance. Mary wondered fleetingly why he would have withheld information about the house party itself from her, but she was certain that her parents had forbidden him to tell her. Anna had probably faced the same predicament, although she was much less likely to hear the gossip now that she and Bates lived out of the Abbey itself. One of them could find out the information she needed so that she could arm herself accordingly.

Having a plan made Mary feel immensely better. She kissed George's forehead as the car pulled up to the house, the entire family and staff awaiting their arrival.

"Welcome home, my love," Mary whispered to her son who began to clap his hands in delight at the sight of his doting grandparents.

Cora met them at the car, unable to stand not having the child in her arms one moment more as she exclaimed, "There is my sweet birthday boy! Have you had a good day with your mother?"

"We've had an excellent day, thank you," Mary replied as Tom helped her from the car. "George enjoyed London very much."

"I'm glad to hear it," Robert stated happily, relieved to have the two of them home after their day in the city. It unnerved him to have them away for too long, especially when he thought of his daughter being unguarded in a place like London. After losing Sybil and Matthew so shockingly, he found himself even more protective of his wife, daughters and grandchildren than he had been before. He often caught himself just staring at them to make sure that they were alright.

"And did you enjoy it, too?" Cora asked, pulling her gaze away from George long enough to attempt to discern her daughter's state of mind.

"Very much," Mary replied, her face a well-practiced mask of politeness. "George and I went to the park, fed the ducks, did some shopping and ate ice cream."

"He seems very much awake for a lad who has had such an eventful day," Robert remarked, gently rubbing his grandson's brown hair as Cora drew close to him.

"He slept well on the train," Mary replied, quite unwilling to discuss anything else about that leg of the journey with anyone.

"You look well, too, dear," Cora interjected happily as they all made their way inside the great hall. "The time in London must have done you some good, after all."

Robert sent his wife a pointed look which she returned with a small smile. They had argued over this issue yet again last night after everyone had retired for bed, he actually wanting to take the train with Mary and George to London. Cora had gently yet insistently reminded him that these were Mary's wishes and that they needed to stand with her on this. George's birthday was difficult enough on their daughter without the strain of disagreement hovering over her.

"Yes, it was quite nice," Mary agreed, using every ounce of self-restraint she had to prevent herself from questioning them about the house party on the spot. "What is it, Mama?" she asked, her mother's direct gaze unnerving her a bit.

"You have some color in your cheeks," Cora smiled as she handed George over to Nanny for his bath and a change of clothes. "I am happy to see it."

"That's from the cool evening air," Mary returned, knowing it was unsafe to discuss anything else. "I suppose I should go and change for dinner."

"Yes," Cora replied, nodding slightly, still looking at her daughter in a quizzical manner. "I believe that Anna is upstairs waiting for you. I insisted that she refrain from coming out to meet you and to actually sit with her feet propped up for a few minutes."

"Thank you for that," Mary smiled. "She does need to take it easy when she is so close to her time, and she rarely listens to me when I tell her so."

Cora tried to stifle a small laugh as the two ladies began to climb the stairs, causing Mary to look to her mother and ask, "And just what is so funny, Mama?"

"Oh, nothing," Cora answered, smiling at Mary. "I just seem to remember when Anna was the one telling you to take it easy. Just how well did you listen to her advice?"

"Not well at all, I'm afraid," Mary replied, stopping at the top of the staircase to look at her mother, her face suddenly ashen.

"What is it, dear?" Cora asked, reaching a hand out to her daughter's cheek in concern.

"It's just that, if I had listened better, to Anna, to Papa, to Carson," Mary began, pausing as she could suddenly not voice Matthew's name. "If I had never gone to Scotland, perhaps the labor would not have started so early. Perhaps he would not have…he might still be…"

"Hush, now," Cora soothed, placing her hands on Mary's shoulders and drawing her close. "What if's are absolutely pointless, Mary. Dwelling on things you cannot change is useless. When you do that, you are just punishing yourself needlessly. Believe me—I know."

Mary looked into her mother's eyes and actually understood that she did know. Cora had tormented herself with what if's after Sybil had died, and Mary suddenly wondered if her mother had done the same after losing her unborn son.

You need to stop torturing yourself, my lady, and live your life.

Mary shivered as his words ran through her mind yet again.

"Come, my dear, you are cold," Cora interjected, gently directing her eldest towards her bedroom. "Let's get you warmed up and changed as quickly as possible. I understand that Mrs. Patmore has prepared quite a treat for our George's first birthday dinner."

"Has she?" Mary queried, entering her bedroom. "That will be a treat indeed, although he has already had ice cream today."

"Mary—you only have your first birthday once," Cora replied, giving Mary the same pout that she had so often witnessed her mother giving to her father. Mary smiled to herself as she realized just how powerful that look really was. Her mother almost always got her way when she employed it.

"True, but tooth decay lasts a lifetime," Mary retorted, her mother simply shaking her head.

"Oh, please. George only has four teeth," Cora stated, shaking her head at her daughter's stubbornness. "And they are his baby teeth, at that!" Mary's response was a quirked eyebrow as they reached her door.

Anna stood as quickly as she was able as the two women entered the room, her rounded belly making hasty movements quite difficult.

"Do sit down, Anna," Mary stated quickly. "It's quite alright, isn't it, Mama?"

"No, mi'lady," Anna responded quickly, walking towards Mary as gracefully as she could. "I've been sitting for quite some time at your mother's insistence, so I'm feeling quite rested now."

"I'm glad to hear it," Cora replied, smiling sweetly at her.

"Let's keep it simple, Anna," Mary began as Anna began to help her undress. "My hair should still be fine from the style you gave me this morning, and I just don't feel like a fuss today. I'm too tired for that."

"Whatever you wish, mi'lady," Anna replied, casting Mary a pointed glance before she continued. "As long as you're not saying that just for my sake."

"Of course not," Mary retorted, attempting to look as disinterested as possible. She cast one look at Anna and could easily tell that her dear lady's maid was not buying her act at all. "And even if I were, it hardly matters. I said that I don't feel like a fuss tonight, and I meant it."

Anna smiled at this, moving quite deftly for a pregnant woman as she helped Mary change quickly out of her black day suit.

"You know, Mary," Cora interjected softly, quite unsure of her daughter's upcoming response, "you are now allowed to wear something besides black."

Dear God—there it was! A flash of pain that pierced her heart so fiercely that Mary had to shut her eyes to everything around her, retreating quickly into the shell of a woman she had been for this entire year.

"I am still in mourning, Mama," she finally managed to state, her voice a husky whisper as she fought desperately to contain her emotions. "A date on a calendar does not suddenly make things alright."

"Nor does wearing a certain color over another mean that you feel Matthew's loss any more or less, Mary," Cora proceeded gently, walking towards the younger woman and placing a hand on her arm as Anna took a step back.

"Maybe not, but it does express how I feel," Mary shot back, her ire rising at the very suggestion that she should don a happy colored frock—on today of all days!

Today… Dear God, of course! A happy frock—for George's birthday.

Sudden understanding flashed in Mary's eyes as she gazed at her mother, grasping Cora's arm for support as her legs felt suddenly weak.

"It is his birthday, Mary, and you are his mother," Cora quietly continued. "Besides, no one will be dining with us tonight except for Isobel, Dr. Clarkson and your grandmother. They will all understand that you are still mourning Matthew, even if you dress happily for your son." Cora smiled again, taking her daughter's hands in her own as she stated, "Isobel told me yesterday that she was determined to wear something cheerful tonight, so there will be no judgment on her part. And you know that we are all in your corner."

Cora took a deep breath, laid one hand gently on Mary's cheek, and breathed, "And Matthew would approve."

Her mother's final statement had been delivered so delicately that Mary half-wondered if she had not imagined it. Would Matthew approve? Her chest began to constrict as she struggled to regain some control of her feelings.

One day you will be ready to move on, and I for one will be glad for it…and so would Matthew.

Tom's words swirled around her, mixing with those of her mother in some sort of contorted dance in her mind. She could not speak, nodding her head in silent agreement as tears once again began to fall. Anna returned a moment later with a stunning sky blue dress, holding it up for Mary's approval.

"What do you think of this one, mi'lady?" she asked softly, concern for her lady and friend quite evident in her gaze. "Blue for sweet George?"

Blue—the same vivid blue as Matthew's eyes…as George's eyes. Mary caught her breath, wiped away her tears, and nodded. "That will do, Anna. It will do quite well for tonight."

"And it will look lovely on you," Cora concluded, "especially with this necklace to go with it."

"What is this?" Mary asked hesitantly, stepping forward and taking the piece of jewelry in her hands. The necklace was simple, yet stunning, a silver chain adorned with small diamonds and sapphires.

"It's a gift from your father and me," Cora answered, smiling at Mary's surprised glance. "We felt like George wasn't the only one who deserved a present today."

Anna quietly clasped the necklace around Mary's throat, and she quickly stole a glance in the mirror. The woman looking back at her almost did not seem real—a stranger in her body, the image of a woman she used to know. Was this too much—on this night of all nights?

Last year at this time, she could not even speak. The simple acts of drawing breath and formulating words had been overwhelming. When she closed her eyes, she was suddenly back in that hospital room, holding her precious baby and singing to him when her mother walked into the room. Oh, God…please help me!

Be happy, Mary…

The words washed over her so suddenly that the sensation was physical. Mary quickly looked around the room—her bedroom, not the hospital—and caught her breath before she looked into the eyes of Anna and her mother.

"Are you alright, mi'lady," Anna asked hesitantly, looking Mary directly in the eye. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No," Mary replied, "there is nothing." Anna made quick work of touching up Mary's hair, and Cora gave her resounding approval at the results.

"Thank you, Anna," Mary stated, smiling up at the young woman whose support and friendship had become so vital to her over the years. "You should go home now and rest."

"I shall do so, mi'lady," Anna replied as she took her leave, turning to Mary once again at the door. "But please let me know if I can do anything else to help."

"I shall," Mary answered, fully knowing that the words she had just uttered were meaningless. There was nothing anyone could do for her right now. This journey she must face was a solitary one.

Cora walked up behind her daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder as if in response to Mary's thoughts. "You don't have to do this by yourself, Mary. We are all in your corner, and we love you very much."

"I know," Mary began, her voice catching in her throat. "But you are not Matthew."

"No, we're not Matthew," Cora admitted, sitting down beside her daughter on the bench. "And you aren't Sybil. Neither is Edith, your father or precious Sybbie. But you all helped me get through the worst of the pain when we lost her. Let us do the same for you, Mary."

She sat utterly frozen, her mind suddenly numb at the uncertainty of her feelings. The day had been such a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and she was quite exhausted from it. She seemed to be hearing the same thoughts from so many different sources.

Sometimes things of importance need to be repeated frequently.

Her stomach fluttered lightly as she tried to let it all in.

Everyone loved Matthew, but very few people love me.

How wrong she had been, and somehow the man on the train had known it. She was loved, recognizing the depth of her mother's feelings in a new light. Mary now understood what it was like to love your own child, and as she dared to slightly lift the veil that had been covering her heart for the past year, the ferocity of her parent's love astounded her. But she had to be willing to accept that love and take it in to truly heal.

Mary gently clasped her mother's hands in her own and met her gaze sincerely. "I shall try, Mama. I cannot make any promises, but I shall try."

"That's my girl," Cora beamed, standing and holding out her hand to her daughter. "Come now. Let's go get this grandson of mine and celebrate his birthday together."

Mary stood, following her mother to the door and pausing momentarily to look back.

"Oh," Cora cut in, pulling Mary from her reverie. "Don't even act as if you don't know about the house party. I know that Tom told you."

"How did you know?" Mary asked quickly, a spark of anger and surprise suddenly chasing away the melancholy in her soul.

"Why do you think I arranged for Tom to pick you up at the train station?" Cora inquired, a much too innocent expression donning her mother's face for Mary's liking.

"I thought he volunteered to bring me home," Mary retorted, still confused by this turn of events.

Cora smiled indulgently at her firstborn before answering, "He volunteered after I told him about the party and then mentioned that someone should pick you up this evening. You know Tom can't keep a secret, Mary. Why would I tell him such things if I didn't want you to know about them?"

Cora turned and walked to the nursery, disappearing before Mary could ask any more questions. Her mother was wilier than Mary ever gave her credit for being, a fact which both intrigued and annoyed her at the moment. Letting out a sigh, she then followed her mother's lead to her son's nursery, wondering just what other surprises the evening might have in store.

Quite suddenly, birthday dinner with the family did not seem quite so daunting a task.