Nan jerked awake, suddenly, her dream had been full of half-formed whispery images, in sepia tinted tones, as if all the world had no color any longer, calvacade of them, but one thing had been clear, there had been presence of Jerry, very powerful just the same, as it had been on those too few times when Jerry, had spooned Nan in their own sheltered, sacred spot, near Four Winds, with the spruce humming all around them, as they leaned on a large mossy piece of granite. Jerry had gently touched Nan's face with his fingertips, and said, "I must do my duty, you see, the world is burning. I must try to stop it, if I can."

And then, Jerry had touched her knuckles carefully, as he had planted a light, kiss on her hand, in the patented Mr. Darcy way. Nan had noticed that her whole body had tingled, in most pleasant way, in swooning, swooping, frevor. And somewhat roughly Jerry with half suppressed passion in his voice had said, "You are the queen of my heart, Anne, now and always and we will find our own rainbow and its golden treasure, and that is something that one can tie to."

Nan, swept the thick hazel hair from her forehead, and listened, Primrose Hollow drowsed in the liminal space between midnight and dawn, she half sank back into her pillows, but found that she was still too tense, so with careful steps she crept downstairs. Quietly and carefully, she grated fresh ginger, and mixed it with hot water, the creeping sweetness of the honey and the bite of the ginger brought tears to her eyes, but this act of doing, making something, settled her, slowly. After a while, Nan crept back up staircase, careful with the teacup, that she was cradling in her hand.

And on the landing Nan heard a muffled sound that repeated, like someone tapping a hairbrush against, something, then there was a wet wheezing, and snuffling, like a hedgehog having an asthma attack, and over that was Di's voice, lowered in a whisper, that echoed from a half open door. There was a distant shivery including tone, that echoed, of Dads, when he was immersed in his most professional mode, as Di remarked, so, so softly, "I can be quite assertive too, if occasion demands it, as it now does. Do you know that you wear them well, all those little contusions, arnica might help, but you haven't said where you got them? There is some ginger root at the kitchen, it would sting, but then again, you might like it as you all now so very flushed and pinned up like a butterfly."

There was a slight rustle, a slight shivery gasp, as Di said in a in a slightly scolding style, with a light undertone of queer tension, under it, " Well, that would not do, not this time, as pleasing as it would be."

Nan stood stock still, and her hands squeezed the already cooled tea cup tightly, as she felt that her whole body was thrumming, as some hidden meaning in her twins voice nagged at her, as she slipped fleet footed across creaking floor, as she had sudden burning need to write for Jerry.

Di glanced at Alice, who lay in a rumpled heap, breathing heavily, intermittently, as Di felt a soaked wet lace glove in her fingers, and extremely slowly she remarked" As you can see, different textures do matter. If I wanted to I could do all kinds of things, you would let me, in this mood, as it has been established, and vice versa too, and that is one of the reasons why we work so well."

Handful of dotted contusions shimmered in half light, as Alice leaned back lazily on the pillows and said, quietly "You know I happen to bruise easily, this is not an evasion, it's the truth." Di, threw an attentive look in Alice's direction, and slowly she twisted, her hand, as slippery heat bloomed. Alice gasped, and said with a more than a hint of pleading in her voice, "Do not dare to stop, if you do, I promise that I'm going to make a frightfull fuss!" Di chuckled, as she kissed Alice softly, and whispered, "Maybe, but probably not, because you don't want to wake Nan, so all you can do is hold on, or maybe throw me with a pillow." The bed creaked, and tilted, and then a large embroidered pillow flew, in a slight arc, and soon there was the sound of breaking glass.

Bit later door of their room creaked open, as Di slipped in, in a small cloud of scents, hint of lavender-water mixed with honey and nutmeg and surprisingly carnal tint of blooming linden flowers. Di noted that there were stack of letterpaper all over Nan´s desk, and half completed letter, with a snap of Jerry over it. In the watery bluish dimness Nan turned over and whispered, "Dearest Di, it is now Friday." The silence of the room was broken by Di´s chuckle, that was raspy, but content as she replied, " Quite. It seems that you have been doing a late correspondence. I know that Jerry will be joyful when he will recive that particular missive." Nan, yawned and said sleepily, "Yes, I do love him so."

Perennial office was buzzing. Dorian Gardiner glanced in the direction of Di Blythe's desk, it was almost painfully neat, and in one corner was a framed photograph with double frames. Walter looked toward Dorian, all washed in black and white. The door creaked open, and with great speed Editor Saunders arrived, wiping the crumbs from his vest, and out of breath, remarked, " Gardiner, I have a small favor to ask, go and represent us at Sherwood Publishers, for even though it is Di's publishing house, I want some of our own people to be there to give support, because these publishing situations are always exciting, and there can be all kinds of politicking behind it. I'd be there myself, but I just don't have time at all, especially since our printing press has jammed."

Dorian, nodded and said, "Sure, Sir, of course. I was going there anyway, with Nan Blythe. I take it there's a more unofficial part somewhere after the official part." Editor Saunders, rubbed his hands and said briskly, "Great! Milly, Milly, get the tea on, where's that girl at? I need my afternoon tea!" In a slightly amused drawl that echoed his Aunt Dorothy's voice, Dorian said, "Milly went to have some errand, some twenty minutes ago, but I can make tea." Editor Saunders, looked at Dorian in confusion, and then he growled, "That calvacade of lasses at Primrose Hollw, has you tied up in their apron strings, I wager, next you'll be saying there's some cake in here somewhere?"

A small smile twinkled in Dorian's eyes, as he said, "The left shelf of the tea corner, a red tin round box, there's cake in it." After a few moments, Editor Saunders wiped the tea from his rich mustache and said, "The tea is moderate, but this cake, it's excellent, reminds me of my grandmother's spice cake, which I haven't had in years!"

Extremely ugly malva and gold, rose-patterned vivid orange tinted teacups glinted in the light, as Dorian, said slowly, "Di sometimes brings a surplus here, for in Primrose Hollow there is often baking, for as you said yourself, cake boosts writing morale." Editor Saunders, cut out a new piece and waved it in his hand, declaring, "Would a recipe corner be a good idea for a future issue, that's something to consider, hmm, hmm."

Dorian, drank his cooled tea, and tried to concentrate on his proofs, but found his thoughts wandering, to the internal affairs of Gardiner Hall, where the mood was somber, not even Aunt Dorothy's expressive and warm presence could save it. Dorothy had been away, somewhere in the provinces, or so she had said when Dorian had inquired why she wasn't home a couple of weeks earlier.

The grounds of Gardiner Hall had been covered in misty raindrops and fog, all in all dreadful and bleak view, against which the library's William Morris wallpapers and vines were an even bigger contrast than usual. Dorothy tilted her flat teacup, and fixed her watchful dark eyes on Dorian and inquired, "Is everything alright my dear, you do seem a little down?"

Dorian, grimaced and motioned to the hallway where Adeline's crystal clear and formal pronunciation could be heard, "Roy, how come I can't buy a new hat if I want to? Are you saying your stocks are down, are we on the brink of ruin?"

" The situation is very delicate now, Adeline, and this autumn is in many ways a balancing act, I have to make decisions, my international contacts are" Royal said in a low voice, with a hint of a snap.

The irritation glowed in Adeline's voice, almost palpable way, as she remarked, in her imperious manner, " Oh, now you're worried, your brain has been marinating in French brandy for weeks, and you're sitting at your club, smoking cigars, and with your local business colleagues, and when the evening comes you all sneak out to get entertainment, from all kinds of places, sometimes from the theater too. It's no use looking so innocent, Christine said, you have your own balcony, it is so immoral!"

There was a long sigh and then Royal said sharply, "Adeline, it's all about image, a point Christine understands, she's always been able to play this game, unlike you!" Adeline's voice trembled with pent-up rage, as she said, "And this is a thank you for everything I've sacrificed for our family over the years. If only you had married Christine years ago, maybe there wouldn't be any problems! Why is it so important that the colorless Redmond Music Association librarian comes here, for tea? She gets all the information she needs from the newspaper like the others, why do you bow down to her? Is it because Dorian likes her like Valentine did too?"

Royal said sharply, with a restrained commanding calm, "Adeline, I have my reasons. Stop pestering me, and I ask that you behave politely, towards all our guests, as you should in our Gardiner way."

Aunt Dorothy had looked thoughtful, and then she'd chuckled lightly and said impishly, "Adeline never gives up. Everyone's been pushing Christine and Roy together since they were about fifteen, but nothing ever came of it. Fortunately, so as she is tolerable in very small doses, but she surely says the same about us, I gather as Gardiners and Stuarts can be likened to oil and water." My dear, Dorian, go to your books now, for I must go and talk to my brother about something."

Couple of days later, coming from his lectures, Dorian noted that the blue parlor door was open. Dorian saw Adeline and Papa, they were having tea, and Adeline said in a very pointed manner, "You can't be serious?" Royal placed Grandmother Constance's teacup carefully on the saucer and said, in a low, decidedly commanding voice, " I'll do what I can, though I don't know what it might be. The mail is so uncertain, telegrams are safer, but if at any time she wants to go away, I'll try to do everything for her to come here to us, because after all she is family. The situation on the Italian front seems unsettled, and only God knows what the situation is like in Venice at the moment, especially in her reduced circumstances."

Adeline sniffed, and then she said, "I wouldn't say that the living in a Palazzo is in any way reduced circumstances. It's really ironic to hear you appeal to God in any way. Have you experienced a spiritual conversion, do you think a higher authority is going to help you out of this mess you're in?" Naturally Dorothy would be on your side, as she almost always is, she has too much heart, that one."

"Someone could say that you have too little of it, my dear sister, but as usual you missed my point totally." Roy remarked pointedly and then he looked in the doorway and said "Ah, Dorian, have you finished your lectures for the day. I have a few graphs here that I want to show you at least one of."

On the translucent thin paper were outlined rising and falling graphs, and the grease pen markings were just as messy, but nevertheless Dorian leaned closer and said somewhat suspiciously, "Is that our French stock in there?" A flash of approval glowed in Royal's eyes as he nodded once and said, "Good, you were attentive during our last meeting." There was a sigh, and a rustling of papers, and fierce steps, and then light music began to be heard from the other room, as Adeline played the piano, in her most passive-aggressive way.

Sighing, Dorian tried to concentrate on his writing, but when four o'clock came he glanced at the ink-stained sheet with only three pieces of text, of which perhaps only one could be kept. Perennial's door slammed open, and Nan Blythe stood in the doorway, in her neat lecture dress, a slight blush of excitement on her high cheekbones as she exclaimed, "I'm so thankful it's not raining today! In the morning Di was very pale, I almost had to force her to eat breakfast, nerves probably, but in the lectures she seemed to concentrate, but how I don't know! After lectures she slipped away from me mumbling something about clothes. She will meet me at the Sherwood premises. Shall we get flowers?"

Dorian smiled and nodded, towards the corner and said, "I took it upon myself. Do you think Di likes those?" A narrow vase held a stylized bouquet of wild, understated charm, dimples on her cheeks, Nan nodded, and said, "It's perfect."

Di walked with apprehensive steps towards the small lounge of the Kingsport Theater, and in her mind she could hear a voice that reminded her of Susan Baker, while curiosity and a certain errand quickened her steps. The corridors seemed completely normal, and a little dusty, there was not a single trace of immorality anywhere. Carefully she opened the heavy door, and the music crashed against her like a wave. The orchestra was playing some catchy tune, with clear allusions to vaudeville mixed with ragtime, and on the stripped black stage, there swayed Winnie, in a modest old-time dress, she walked, stopped, and turned and held out her hand half-open in defiance, and uttered something that cut Di, and as the number and scene progressed, she found that she was following a nervous breakdown set in music that was happening before her eyes.

There was a bitter smell of tobacco and suddenly a gruff but friendly voice said behind Di, "Miss Roberts said you would come, wait a few more moments, this will be over soon." Di, turned, and looked at a gray shrunken looking man, too old to serve in the army, he was holding a zinc bucket full of sand, and his worn overalls were stained with paint. On the stage, the music was blazing, Winnie stalked along the stage it in dainty manner, which might have seemed too stylized, but her steps reflected unyielding determination, and desperation, all twined in.

The man narrowed his gray eyes, which were behind cracked glasses, as Di asked, "How does she do that?!" A bluish cloud floated in the air, as the man answered, "with abundance of talent, and relentless work-ethic, I gather, but she is really extremely good at what she does, not many can break the audience's heart with half a word or a gesture."

Glancing at the stage, Di nodded and shivered as Winnie´s voice dipped into sultry low crooning, that was evocative. Then, crackling lights had dimmed, as command was heard, "Thanks everyone, that's it, tomorrow we'll continue!"

Afterwards, in Winnie's dressing room, which smelled of powder, grease-paint, and chypre tones, of some perfume, Di looked around. A large mirror reflected light, old playbills were jammed into its frames, cosmetics were in a mixed pile on the table, stacks of plays, and underlined music scores, and a screen with stylized flying cranes and cherry blossoms, in old musty japonisere style.

Winnie tapped her nails on the table, as she was wrapped in a pale rose colored silk dressing gown, as she said, warmly "Does something tickle your fancy?" as she gestured with her hand in the direction of the clothes racks. Di, smiled thoughtfully as she said, "Thanks for letting me borrow something from here, as there are many things in different sizes, but not something too theatrical, or with applicue embroidery or peliettes as they might suit you, but not me, I think!" Winne, grinned, and walked over to the rack, and said, "Does this suit?" Slowly, Di nodded.

At the premises of Sherwood Publishers, the crowd mingled, in the large spacious lobby, there was a light scent of lemonade and tea served at the corner table as coffee or champagne were not available due rationing. Dorian looked unsatisfied as he straightened his green tie, and said in a low voice, to Nan "It seems so shabby, if I had known I would have brought champagne from our cellar."

Nan, looked sharply at Dorian and said quietly, "People aren't here for food or drink, but for nourishment of spirits, just look at those stacks of books!" The light shone on them, there weren't very many, but still more than one, and the name Diana Blythe shimmered on the back.

A quiet conversation was heard and Nan noticed that more than one passer-by said, "Ah, Blythe, yes, yes, the sister of that tragically fallen Piper poem writer, apparently. The novel seems quite charming, but is it just a momentarily colorful soap bubble shimmering in the fall sun, or has it depth and real feeling, it remains to be seen. Whether or not the blue anemones can withstand the cries of war and realism. I've heard it said that pine forests are more pleasant than hogweeds. It is bluebells, not anemones, dear."

A little restless, Nan rose to her toes and inquired, "Dorian, do you see Di anywhere, she should be here already!" Dorian said warmly, "I don't see her, but there are other acquaintances here too, look!" In one corner stood Madeline Dobson, and Alice, both of them were looking pale as they seemed to have fierce discussion. Nan, said in her lively way, "Oh, Dorian, Miss Dobson, is nice, in her way, but I can't understand why you are all so charmed with her, for I think she seems a bit dull, and plain, although she makes excellent book suggestions."

Dorian smiled faintly, as he remarked, "She can be acquired taste. Come, shall we go say hello?" Nan, shook her head stiffly, and said quietly, "You just go, I'm waiting here for Di." With a flash of blue Dorian walked laboriously, slowly, forward across the lobby, and as so often before, watching Dorian move, a cutting pity pulsed in Nan's heart.

There was light applause from the crowd as Di stepped forward, flanked by a large man who was apparently an executive at Sherwood Publishing. Nan, frowned, as she examined her twin, for Di was dressed modestly, but in an extremely elegant very form fitting black dress, the thin hem of which dragged the ground. Why black, of mourning, that is the color of sorrow, on this happy day, Nan pondered. Someone had styled her twin too, because never before had Di's hair been up like this, in a heavy half-open bun, from which elaborate curls flowed down her shoulders, and tickled her collarbones. Di, looked alien, elegantly distant, like she belonged to others, and Nan, a little anxiously, wished she'd been dressed in anything else, something familiar and recognisable. Countless readers would come to know Diana Blythe as this, and not as the girl who loved the rain, or the flight of dragonflies in the July light.

The flash of the camera flashed, and Di's face, which had been frozen into a serious expression, softened, as she saw Nan, and a familiar warm glow came into her s gray-green eyes, which shone like stars, and a little blush lit up her cheeks, as the executive raised his glass, and said in his audible booming voice, " When I received a manuscript a little over a year ago, I was immediately enchanted by the first sentence. Into the BlueBell Woods is a unique and original work. I can see some skeptical looks, as I'm not usually a fan of such lyrical prose, almost poetry, but this narrative was transformative, I can only hope that perhaps many generations to come will enjoy this novel, as it has all the makings of a slightly offbeat classic, and no further ado, I present to you Diana Blythe, who is now reading an excerpt from her work. There will be a book sale afterwards. "

Nan clasped her cold hands together as Di stepped to the front of the crowd and opened her book and flipped through it, then began to read in her light voice. There had been a time when the lilacs had been a promise, but that promise had been shattered in the wild rush of life, for stopping was impossible, Armadine thought as she looked out the tram window at a street that looked like thousands of other streets all over the world.

Narrow, almost peeling shutters, gray crowds, and everyone is as always in a constant rush. No one could stop and enjoy the wonders of the world anymore. Were there any wildflowers that had the tinge of youth and love, or had society crushed the secret Edens that once in the golden days of childhood, of innocence, or at least it seemed, had grown everywhere, earlier in the same way that during the Great Terror the blood of the citizens flowed along the streets, the blade of guillotine glittering as the world was reshaped, then as it is now when idealistic youths rushed where no sane person wanted to go, far, far away, on the other side of the world, the drums of war beat, and the people cheered, sincerely, ecstatically, earnestly.

The tram stopped with screeching brakes, and Armadine slowly got off, and walked away from the dilapidated platform, and then in a corner she saw a flash of blue, passers-by, carried small posies of bluebells in their hands, and feeling alive Armandine, bought a small bouquet, and its light honey-like scent carried her somewhere far away. Old, half-forgotten memories of love and loss were ignited once more."

Applause broke out, and slowly, a small line piled up at the table where Di sat, singing her book. Slowly, the mingling crowd ebbed away, and Dorian, said "Well, done. You read that part, I thought you'd have chosen that second option? Here's some flowers."

Di, smiled in an impish manner as she remarked, "Crowd tailoring, I'd imagine you'd have noticed. Are you going to buy the book, or are you going to trust me to give you a copy?" Those flowers are very pretty, and I notice there's no orchid in sight, so you really bought them and didn't socialize the Hall's greenhouse."

Dorian, grinned, and said, "Oh, I thought about it, but in the end this was the better option, because this is more meaningful. Where do we go afterwards?" "Why do you think we're going somewhere," Di inquired lightly.

Dorian looked around boredly and said, "Because it's a usually done thing."

Di, waved her hand nonchalantly at Madeleine Dobson, who slid over to the table, she glanced with amusement at Di and she said, "Ah, well done dearest. I think your brother would be proud of you. See you all later?" Di, nodded, and slowly, with a slight smile to Dorian, Madeleine strode through the crowd, in her blue dress. Dorian, demanded, not asked, in his best Gardiner-style, "First of all, where!?"

Twenty minutes later, as they Nan, Alice, Dorian and Di, stood in the street, in front of the tulle draped windows, Dorian remarked suspiciously, "The place seems vague, like a funeral home, it has a queer vibe, and I'm not sure I like it." Nan glanced worriedly over Dorian's dark curls at her twin, but Di, smiled, and said, "Shall we." The door creaked, and warm scented air flooded into the cool, crisp autumn evening, a murmur of conversation was heard from inside.

Curious, Nan looked around the cafe, the description of which exactly matched the one she had read in her twin's notebook, or at least in part, because everywhere seemed to radiate warmth, and homeliness, a pale slender woman seemed to greet Di warmly, and squinting, Nan noticed that at one of the tables sat Dorian's Aunt Dorothy, and next to her, in a red-striped dress, was another dark-haired woman whom Nan remembered having met once before. Dorian laughed happily, as he made a beeline to his Aunt, Alice had sat down next to Madeleine Dobson. Di, turned, and beckoned to Nan, and said warmly, "Nanlet, this is Helene, and that redhead who came through the door is Winnie."

A strange atmosphere of anticipation had settled in the cafe as Winnie walked across the cafe and greeted people, Nan could clearly see it. Alice had appeared beside Di, Nan noticed that Helene and Alice were giving each other a light nod. Helene walked onto the small stage, clapped her hands once and said in a friendly, authoritarian slightly cool style "My dear patrons, a private function is about to start here, so I welcome you all again tomorrow if you like. And there are pieces of apple pie on that side table for you to take with you!" One patron, raised his voice, and said, in wheeling plaintive tone, "So, no performance this evening then?"

Helene glanced questioningly towards Winnie, and she and Di exchanged quick glances, and then they both walked over to the piano, as if they had done that particular routine more than few times before. Even from this distance, Nan saw how Di's eyes twinkled as she glanced at the sheet music as Winnie folded her modest dark coat in the corner of the stage, under it, she was wearing a dress, the like of which Nan had never seen before, it was theatrical, was the proper word for it, so petal pink, the color resembled a half opened rose, in all flowing open lines.

Nan noticed that Alice had leaned forward, as in expectantly with a glint of interest in her mien. Cafe's customers had quieted down, as Di started to play, shimmering cascade of notes, echoed into silence, as the next five minutes were total revelation of emotive transcendence, as Winnie rendered hit piece If You Were the Only Boy from the musical revue The Bing Boys Are Here, in masterful way. Nan had heard Irene Howard's singing this song often, but never before had it brought tears to Nan's eyes, as she pondered of Jerry´s well-being at this moment, for Winnie's interpretation was extremely sensitive, full of painful stillness, and of shuddering longing, as she sang.

A garden of Eden just made for two
With nothing to mar our joy
I would say such wonderful things to you
There would be such wonderful things to do
If you were the only girl in the world
and I were the only boy.

Crystal clear, flutteringly fragile silence had fallen, and slowly it broke into applause, as one by one other patrons left the café. Helene, said a little pointedly, "Are you now pandering to the crowd, then, Winnie, sentimental songs, and not a raunchy one in sight." Winnie, smiled, captivatingly impishly, as she replied, "I happen to be excellent at that, and of stillness, naturally, as all those adorning hoards can attest!"

Nan, suppressed her smile, at that retort, as Winnie, directed her next words in Nan's direction, " You must be our lost lamb´s is twin, so nice to meet you, but it seems that you are not lost at all, even though you are here today, supporting, as one should. This evening can be a new beginning, for Di, I think."

A little confused, Nan raised her eyebrows as Helene said, "Miss Blythe, please, do not mind her, she has peculiar sense of fun, at times." Feeling unsettled, at those perceptive words, Nan seeked comfort from her cup of tea.

Nan noticed that Dorian beckoned to Nan and soon Nan was sitting at the table where he was holding court. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he remarked, "I thought I knew all the secrets of Kingsport, but the existence of this charming place proves me wrong. All the food here is delightful, have a piece of pie. These assorted teacups are sweet and so original." Nan cut herself a small piece of fig tart with a mouth-wateringly juicy filling and a dreamy light base. Di seemed to be having a lively conversation with Dorothy and Ernestine, few tables away.

Then Dorian said thoughtfully, "Remember when we tried to go to Aunt Dorothy's sewing club, but we couldn't get any further than front stairs?" Nan, blew her tea, and nodded. The lilac-colored counter reflected the light, and little bits of conversation could be heard everywhere. Dorian, continued in a cautious voice, "I think the attendees of that evening are around us, as my Aunt is in a very teasing mood, and she doesn't usually do that at least in public, but then again, I could be wrong, as this is Di's novel release party, and there isn't no reason why she would call that lot here."

Glancing around, Nan said, "You might be right, I know that this place is extremely cozy, and it seems that Di is a regular here."

Across the café, Alice, tasted her tea, and said carefully, "Miss, Roberts, you were lovely, earlier, your high and middle register was memorable, if I may say so." "Ah, you're the girl who sang at Dorothy's summer soiree, if I'm not mistaken," Winnie said impishly. Alice, only nodded.

Slowly, the pie pans dwindled, as playful music echoed, as Winnie and then Alice performed, with Di as a pianist, there were laughter, and relentless happiness, made real by hard work, that glowed, for a few hours, inside that cafe, the bloody war was forgotten, but not completely, it never could, there were newspapers on the tables, which announced in dark colors the latest headlines, they screamed Hun forces have been attacking at Jacobstadt in Courland. There is an Anglo-French conference in Boulogne to discuss a possible Italian Offensive and a proposal to extend the line held by the BEF in France.