Hazel pointedly looked Sarah up and down. “Well, is it large twins or small triplets?”

  “God, I hope not,” Sarah blurted. Then she covered her mouth with her hand and the look of dismay on her face was almost comical. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “For what?” said Hazel. “Sounded like a prayer to me.”

  Sarah laughed in relief, and so did Rachel. Hazel could do that, put people at ease in a moment. When she wanted to.

  Still, it bothered her that taking the name of the Lord in vain came so easily to Sarah’s lips. She just hadn’t been raised like Rachel’s other daughters-in-law. She grew up Mormon, but in a rural family in Draper where the farmers still used the same one-syllable word for manure that the ancient Anglo-Saxons had used. There were junker cars parked on her family’s lawn—the back lawn, though, which was probably a mark of the upper class in Draper—and even though Jared used words like “salt of the earth” to describe Sarah and her family, Rachel had often asked herself how a son of hers could even be attracted to people like that, let alone like them, which Will seemed to do. Will was a brilliant young lawyer. He would move in elevated circles all his life. He might run for office someday. And this was the woman he would take with him to the Senate or the governor’s mansion?

  Even as she had these thoughts, Rachel stifled them. She knew it was a flaw in her, not in Sarah. I’m a snob, she realized. I never knew it till Will married Sarah, but I truly am a snob. All those sermonettes I’ve given about how the Lord is no respecter of persons and the poor and uneducated are more likely to be in tune with the Spirit of God than the rich and “wise”—I meant every word of them, until my son brought home a farm girl who knew what a carburetor was for and how to fix one, “except it’s a pretty useless skill these days,” Sarah had explained, “what with computerized fuel injection.” Rachel had only been able to smile and nod, having no concept what these things were except words in advertisements.

  Ever since then, though, it had always been Sarah who had that polite smile on her face, pretending to understand what was going on as Will and Jared launched into long esoteric discussions of arcane Church doctrines or issues in law and ethics or scientific and academic questions. It was the way Jared had always talked to all his children, assuming that as long as you had reasoning behind it you could have an opinion on any subject, but Rachel was pretty sure Sarah felt completely excluded. Rachel had even pointed out to her that she was perfectly welcome to speak up. “I would,” Sarah said, smiling. “If I could ever understand what they’re talking about.”

  Poor child! Poor child!

  Well, she and Will would be married for a long time—if the twins didn’t drive them both into the looney bin. Plenty of chances for Sarah to learn to take part in Will’s intellectual life. Rachel had had it easy—she was a professor’s daughter and had learned all the social graces from her mother, who was the consummate unaffected hostess, so that without an ounce of pretense she could make anybody feel welcome in her home. Sarah simply hadn’t grown up with this—but she would learn. And she was trying to learn, too. Rachel could see how Sarah’s eyes were upon her, studying her whenever she came to visit, watching how Rachel did things, learning, learning. Despite all Rachel’s misgivings, Sarah was trying to be a good wife and she would become just what Will needed. And one thing was certain: Sarah was already what Will wanted.

  A couple of times it had occurred to Rachel that perhaps what Will loved about Sarah was precisely that she was nothing at all like Will’s mother. But Rachel dismissed that thought from her mind as quickly as possible. She and Will had always gotten along quite well. He couldn’t possibly have disliked her enough to try to marry her opposite.

  Hunger tamed the twins as no amount of discipline could: When mealtime came, they were perched in duplicate high chairs, cloaked in huge, smocklike bibs that didn’t bode well for the condition of the floor after dinner. Oh, well, it’s only carpet, Rachel told herself. Jared called on his mother to say the blessing, and to everyone’s surprise, she said nothing more than the standard blessing, plus one sentence: “For all thy gracious gifts to us during this year, we give special thanks today.” That was it. When everyone looked at her in surprise after the amens, Hazel only laughed and winked. “One of the things I like to be thankful for at Thanksgiving is hot food!”

  I hope I get old like her, thought Rachel, not for the first time.

  And then she wondered: Was the short blessing really in order to let them eat while the food was still hot, or rather because a mere month after her husband died Hazel wasn’t feeling all that grateful? Unlike Jared, Hazel had wept copiously at her husband’s funeral. Still, since that cathartic day Hazel had hardly spoken of her husband. It struck Rachel that she and Jared might well be coping with their loss the same way—by avoiding thinking or feeling anything about it at all. Rachel resolved to watch more carefully.

  Will was telling everybody about how only a few days ago he had accepted the offer of a law firm in Los Angeles. Dawn and Buck were teasing him about being part of the recently-canceled TV show. “Will you be Arnie Becker?” Dawn asked.

  “No divorces,” said Will. “And no love affairs.”

  Everybody laughed. Even Sarah, who then piped up with her own jest: “I’m sorry they canceled that show. I was watching it so I could understand what Will’s life was going to be like. But except for the ones who were lawyers themselves, I can’t remember ever seeing any of their wives.” She laughed, and so did everyone else, but Rachel didn’t have to be a genius to detect the fear that lay under the joke.

  “Anyway we went to a realtor to see about putting our house on the market,” said Will. “And it happened that one of the agents in the firm was looking to buy a . . . how did they put it? . . . a starter home . . .”

  “A cheap little rental property,” said Sarah. “I think those were the exact words.”

  “Yes, that’s it—Streak here always remembers the exact words, it’s why I don’t dare argue with her,” said Will. “I can face anybody in court, but that’s because none of the other lawyers have Streak’s steeltrap mind.” He laughed, and so did everyone else, but it seemed to Rachel that she wasn’t the only one who was unsure whether Will was sincerely complimenting his wife and laughing at the other lawyers, or ironically teasing his wife by praising her for attributes she didn’t have. Steeltrap mind? Sarah managed to keep it hidden under her cowlike docility.

  “So they already made you an offer on the house?” Buck asked. “Because it really would be a good rental, being so close to the university.”

  “If anyone can ever repair the damage the twins have done,” said Sarah, laughing. Again, everyone joined in, but with uncertainty about how much truth lay behind the joke.

  “They didn’t just offer,” said Will. “They bought. The only drawback is we have to be out of the house by December first.”

  “But your job won’t even start in LA until March!” cried Dawn.

  Rachel looked up into Jared’s eyes. They could both see the handwriting on the wall. Will was planning to move back in with them.

  “Will, for a smart guy you are sure dumb,” said Dawn, in her patronizing sister voice. “You could have sold it five times over, if you’d just waited, and to somebody who wouldn’t take occupancy until after you left. You’re going to make Sarah have the baby while you’re camping out in some makeshift apartment!”

  Dawn was the only one who ever talked to Will as if he were an idiot child. Will didn’t seem to mind. “We were hoping,” he said mildly, “that all that empty space in the basement here might be available for a few fledglings to return to the nest. It’s only till March, but it will save us a lot of money—I think the exactly amount is ‘oodles’—if we don’t have to move twice. We can just have the moving company pack everything up—at my new firm’s expense, I might add—and store it until March. And it would be a great help to us when the baby’s born, to be living here where Streak can get plenty of help from Mom. If you don’t mind, Mom.”

  “Fine,” said Rachel. “If I get the new baby.”

  Will looked her in the eye. “You get the twins, Mom. But you raised me. You’re tough. And as my work winds down, I’ll have more and more time at home. The worst of it would be between now and New Year’s. It’s a terrible imposition, but where are we going to find a rental for these three months? Nobody in their right mind is moving out between now and New Year’s.”

  “Exactly what I was going to say,” Jared said. “You know that with Mother living with us, we—”

  “With Mother living with you,” said Hazel, “things couldn’t be better. I can help with the twins.”

  “No, Mother,” said Jared. “That’s too much for somebody your . . .”

  “My age?” asked Hazel. “That’s rich. I may not be fast, but I’m mean. Nothing wrong with these twins that can’t be cured by smacking them around a little.” There was a momentary pause. “That was a joke, you beastly children. I never raised a hand to you, Jared. You should have leapt to my defense.”

  Now everyone laughed. But Jared was still reluctant. “Will, you should have asked us before you went ahead and sold your house.”

  “If you can’t do it, we’ll work something out,” said Will.

  “What about Sarah’s family?” asked Jared.

  It was Sarah who answered. Firmly, loudly. “No.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “You mean your parents really wouldn’t help?” asked Rachel, surprised. “I know they’re all alone in that big old farmhouse, and there’s plenty of land . . .”

  “I mean my children aren’t going to have any memories of living there,” Sarah said firmly.

  “It’s really not an option,” said Will, his face reddening. He was going to back his wife up on this one, clearly, and he also wasn’t going to brook any questions.

  “Of course you can stay here,” said Rachel. “Your father was only reluctant because he’s trying to protect me from overwork. But Mother Hazel’s right, she’ll be a great help to me. Between the three of us, Sarah, we womenfolk will have those two monsters outnumbered. Just do us a favor and don’t have another boy. Smart as the twins are, a solo would probably be born running.”

  “It’s a girl,” said Sarah.

  This was the first they had heard of the sex of the child. “Ultra-sound?” asked Dawn.

  Sarah shook her head. “I’ve known all along.”

  Another silence.

  Will finally spoke up. “Sarah . . . dreams. Sometimes. She knew about the twins before the doctor did.”

  Rachel had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why did this bother her? She had always known that some women had visions, true dreams, intuitions that turned out to be true. It was one of the gifts of the Spirit. And it was certain that Sarah didn’t boast about it, since this was the first they had heard about her being a visionary woman. Still, there was something faintly awkward about the way Will phrased it. He didn’t just say she had a dream about this baby. He said that she dreams “sometimes.” He wasn’t telling about one experience—he was saying that this sort of thing happens a lot. A very different claim. It made Rachel wonder who really had the upper hand in their marriage. If anyone does, she reminded herself quickly. After all, Rachel and Jared had a perfect balance. There was no upper hand.

  Even reminding herself of how good her own marriage was didn’t make her bad feeling go away. She wondered: Do I feel uncomfortable because I don’t really believe in people who regularly get visions? Or do I feel uncomfortable because my son married a woman who is much more closely in touch with spiritual things than I am?

  “Well,” said Hazel, “that’s a useful talent, I’d say! Is the baby going to be all right?”

  Sarah smiled faintly. “We’re going to love her very much.”

  “We don’t talk about this stuff much,” said Will. “It’s . . . sacred, I’m sure you understand. I don’t know why I mentioned it today. I guess if we’re going to live here I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. Just till March, can you handle it?”

  “What are you going to name her?” asked Hazel.

  “We have some ideas,” said Sarah. “But nothing is set.”

  “Just don’t name her Hazel. I’ve always resented my father for giving me that name. It’s even more old-fashioned now. She would be teased mercilessly in school.”

  Buck hooted in laughter. “You can say that again! My parents didn’t even have the decency to name me ‘Norman,’ which would have been bad enough. No, every school year the teacher had to read out my name.” He put on an exaggeratedly high teacher’s voice: “ ‘Normal’ ? Is that right? Is that a name, or an evaluation?”

  “I’ve always wondered that myself,” said Will.

  Dawn answered. “It’s not a description,” she assured him. “At least not an accurate one.”

  “What I’ve always wondered,” said Jared, “is how you came up with the nickname ‘Buck.’ I mean, are your folks deer hunters or something?”

  “Simple enough story,” said Buck. “They call me Buck so they can tell me apart from my little brother.”

  “Oh, what’s his name?” asked Hazel.

  “Buck,” said Buck. Then he took a bite of turkey.

  It took a moment for everyone to realize that he was joking. Dawn jabbed him with her elbow. “You didn’t have to pull that old joke on my family!”

  He shied away from her. “Don’t touch me when I’m eating unless you’re giving me the Heimlich maneuver.”

  She started tickling him. “I don’t use Heimlich, I just tickle.”

  “Tickle and jab!” Buck cried, holding her hands away from him.

  “Children,” said Jared sternly. “Try to behave at least as well as the twins.”

  Well, thought Rachel, that was that. Somehow they had agreed to let Will and Sarah and the twins move into their basement. And Hazel, somehow, was going to help with them. The house was going to be full again. It was just bad luck that it happened to be Rachel’s least-favorite grandchildren who were going to be tearing her house apart. Actually, it was bound to be a good thing. When Rachel had a chance to know them better, no doubt she’d find and appreciate the twins’ better qualities. The same might even happen with Sarah. Sarah who took the name of the Lord in vain. Sarah whose parents kept dead cars on the lawn. Sarah who had visions.

  Strange and mysterious are the ways of God.

  The twins weren’t as much of a problem as Rachel had feared, in large measure because Sarah went over the house with them, her expert eye spotting everything that the twins might be able to break. For a while, Rachel feared that there’d be nothing left, but as she boxed up every bit of ceramic and her entire clock collection, she reminded herself that it would only be a few months. Apparently Sarah spotted everything. The twins quickly learned that there was nothing to destroy inside the house and so they went outside and worked over the garden. Well, that was all right. A few passes with the rototiller in the spring and there’d be no trace of their massive construction projects in the dirt. The only drawback was bundling them up for the cold weather. But having them out of the house for hours on end was worth the work. Thank heaven the weather was staying dry.

  And when the twins were inside the house, Hazel was a help. She had infinite patience as a performer, apparently, telling stories to the twins whenever they wanted, which was often. And always with different voices for all the characters and a lot of silliness and wit so the boys were laughing all the time. They actually preferred Hazel to the television. But after a few stories, Rachel could tell that Hazel was exhausted and so she’d bundle the twins into their jackets and herd them outside. In the meantime, Sarah would lie miserably on the couch in the family room and call out, “I can take them in here! Please don’t wear yourselves out!” They cheerfully ignored her, except when Hazel went in and plumped up her pillow and gave her hot chocolate or lemonade or milk or whatever Sarah could finally be bullied into expressing a preference for that day. “You are the most undemanding, unparticular pregnant woman I’ve ever known,” Hazel told the girl. “I swear if the baby said, ‘Well, Mom, shall I come on my due date?’ you’d answer, ‘Oh, you just come when you want. This month. Next month. Whatever.’ ”

  “I just don’t have that much in the way of a preference,” said Sarah.

  Whereupon Hazel would turn to Rachel. “I swear if Sarah’s head was on fire, she’d just say, ‘Now, if you’re going into the kitchen anyway, and it’s not too much trouble, would you mind bringing me back a glass of water to put this pesky fire out? But only if you’re already going to the kitchen, don’t make a special trip on my account!’ ” Rachel noticed that Sarah laughed at these jokes, but at the same time she could see that the girl had some kind of pain behind her eyes.

  Sarah’s due date came and went. December 8th. December 9th. December 10th. “I’m going to start jumping off the bottom step,” Sarah told them miserably. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll try the second step.”

  “No such thing,” said Hazel. “If that baby needs a few extra days to get ripe, don’t worry. Besides, the doctors never really know when the true due date is. For all you know, this little girl was conceived late in the cycle.”

  On the 11th, there was a little false alarm—a sharp pain that Sarah was sure wasn’t a contraction but she still had to go check. Hazel bravely stayed with the boys while Rachel took Sarah to the doctor’s office for an unscheduled checkup. All the way there, Rachel kept assuring Sarah that the doctor would probably make them go right to the hospital and call Will from there. Sarah said little, and her tacit disagreement turned out to be correct. The doctor was as frustrated, it seemed, as Sarah was. “You’re not dilated at all,” he said. “I really don’t want to induce until there’s some sign that your body is in birth mode.”

  “That’s all right,” Sarah said miserably.

  On the ride home, Rachel finally let her curiosity get the better of her manners. “Can I ask you something personal, Sarah?”