Chapter Five

Victoria suppressed a sigh as she got off the train and adjusted the tilt of her hat. Serena, who was standing right next to her, was chattering away about the most banal subjects. Victoria glanced at her cousin suspiciously as Serena laughed, waving her right gloved hand. Was it her imagination or was her cousin's laughter much too forced and false of late?

Someone placed a hand on Victoria's arm. Victoria started and turned around, smiling in relief.

James smiled lovingly. He took away Victoria's bag and kissed her on the cheek. "Hello, darling."

Victoria was flattered by the address; her smile turned even more radiant. "James. I thought that you would be unable to see me here. How are you?"

James nodded, thrilled that Victoria seemed pleased to see him here. He took her hand and placed it on his arm, patting it. "I would always be here to greet you. But yes, for a while, it did seem as if business would interrupt my being able to meet you," he remarked seriously. He turned to Serena, smiling politely. "Hello, Serena. You are looking well."

Serena was struggling with her bags and suitcases. She looked up, looking forlorn. "Oh, I'm fine," she replied, rolling her eyes.

James, eyeing Serena's numerous bags, nodded towards his chauffeur. "Get Miss Watson's bags into the car, Beeves."

Beeves nodded, taking the bags from Serena. "Yes, sir."

Having gotten rid of her bags, Serena placed her hat in place and laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Well, aren't we looking happy?" she cooed with a malicious undertone. She tilted her head, eyeing James' discomfort with triumph. "Oh, I won't be bothering you two. There must be tons to do in this old place. Didn't Stacy say so, Victoria?" she asked airily as she stepped into the car first.

Disregarding the faithful James at her arm, Victoria frowned as she watched Serena enter the car.

Victoria started as she realized that Serena had lost some of her sparkling color, and... was it her imagination or did Serena's wit become sharper and more vindictive? Realizing that James was speaking to her and quite charmingly at that, she quickly turned her thoughts away from Serena and tried to pay attention to him. Tried.

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Entering the house on James' arm, Victoria glanced around, shaking her head. She had never dreamed a summer home to look so elegant and... well, so distant and aloof. Although everything was lovely, there was a lack of warmth in the surroundings.

Serena leaned over to Victoria, her eyes wide with awe. "Oh, Victoria, look," she whispered. "Real Havilland china out for display. And look at those antiques," she hissed softly. "They must have cost a fortune."

Victoria glanced at Serena's interests and nodded, taking off her gloves. "Yes, they must have," she agreed, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, how do you like the house?" James asked after he had asked the servant to send for his parents. He placed a hand at the crook of Victoria's arm.

Victoria turned towards James and tried to smile convincingly. "Well... it's rather..." she groped for the right words.

"Very ostentatious, but so very lovely," Serena finished, smiling. "I've never seen such good taste."

More like gaudy and ostentatious, Serena, Victoria thought silently, although she thanked silently for having helped her. Victoria turned her head from side to side as she pretended to admire the sweeping staircases and the marble floor.

"There are father and mother," James announced as he eyed his parents' and his brothers' walking down the stairs. Victoria sighed in relief.

"Father, mother, this is Lady Victoria Brown," James introduced, beaming proudly. "Victoria, these are my parents, Beau and Belle Callahan."

Smiling tentatively, Victoria shook hands with Beau and Belle Callahan. "I'm pleased to meet you. How do you do?"

Beau Callahan was a distinguished looking man, with white hair that had formerly been midnight black, and cheerful blue eyes. One would have hardly thought that this man was once the master of stockbrokers in Wall Street. But one look in his cheerful blue eyes would have dispelled the notion that he was just a benevolent man. There was a serene wisdom and sharpness in the eyes that frightened most when they had a chance to glimpse it. However, few were given the chance.

Beau's wife and mother of his three sons, Belle Callahan, was tall and slender, with china blue eyes and smooth, fine blond hair. She possessed a natural grace and charm, which had not been diminished by the years. It was a known fact in New York society that she was one of its leading ladies of fashion and style. She seemed rather harmless and stupid, but the cunning of her eyes held a different story altogether.

"And these are my brothers, Steven and Marshall," James introduced, waving a hand to two young men.

Victoria shook their hands too, surprised by the physical differences in the three brothers in coloring and in features. "I'm pleased to meet you, Steven, Marshall," she said pleasantly.

It was obvious to all who had eyes that Steven resembled his mother strongly. He had dark blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was not as tall or as handsome as his two older brothers, but he had a much more interesting and vibrant personality than both of them combined. It was also evident that Steven was fascinated and charmed by Serena. He barely paid attention to Victoria's greeting.

Marshall, on the other hand, resembled his father more. However, Marshall did not have any expression on his face, perhaps indicating his displeasure with the two young ladies before him. He merely glanced at both young ladies, shook hands with them, and smiled blandly, as if meeting them was a rather tiresome duty.

"We are so glad to meet a sensible British young lady," Belle remarked cordially but rather stupidly. "We have met Britons before in Europe, and they do snub us so for being American. How do you like it here in the States?"

Victoria smiled kindly. "I am very fond of America and its people. I honestly believe that the picture Britons paint of Americans is very much in the wrong," she said tactfully.

Beau nodded approvingly. "You have sense, Victoria Brown. More sense than any of the other young ladies my son, James, has known."

James beamed as he turned to Victoria. "I told you that father would be pleased with you," he commented eagerly.

"I am sure that James has told you this... but did you bring anything... well... something dressy and formal, Victoria?" Belle asked anxiously. "Beau and I planned many parties for the young people, and there are so many parties at the other homes as well. And you always need to be appropriately dressed at every occasion or else they talk about you as if you were the plague," she confided.

James, being the lovestruck fool he was, had forgotten to tell Victoria about this. Trying not to let her alarm and surprise be shown, she said as politely as she could, "I am sure I will enjoy them. But you really did not need to put in such effort," she reassured.

"Oh yes, we shall enjoy the parties immensely," Serena reinforced sincerely. She smiled.

Belle nodded, satisfied that Victoria was pleased. "Well then, you girls must be tired. I'll have Abigail take you to your rooms," she announced, misunderstanding Victoria's alarm to be exhaustion.

"Beeves, take the ladies' bags to their rooms upstairs. I am sure they can sort their things out later."

Victoria leaned over and took Belle's hand. "Thank you for all your hospitality," she said sincerely. "I am sure it must not have been easy for you to prepare for our visit." She glanced at James reproachfully. "I am afraid that James has... well, he has rather made me seem much more important than I actually am."

Belle smiled and patted the fresh young cheek. She patted the hand affectionately. "Nonsense, dear. You are exactly as James told us you would be. Isn't she, Beau? You will be like the daughter I have never had."

Serena slammed the door behind her as soon as Beeves finished putting all the bags and valises in the room. She untied the scarf around her neck and sighed, raising her right foot. "She's so gorgeous, considering her age," Serena remarked, referring to Belle Callahan. She reclined on Victoria's bed in a careless fashion.

Victoria snapped open her valise and nodded. "Yes, she is very beautiful."

Serena sighed and glanced at her fingernails, suddenly very bored. "I have to file them, don't I?" she asked sleepily.

"Steven and Marshall seem to be very good-natured fellows," Victoria remarked charitably, misunderstanding Serena's boredom. She turned to Serena and smiled. "You seem to have made a conquest already. Steven seems to be quite taken with you."

Serena shrugged, looking skeptical. "Did you think so? I don't really care, you know. Boys are so boring," she remarked airily. "Besides, they are never honest or trustworthy. And they all drink like mad," she added, emphasizing her last sentence.

Victoria paused, confused. "Serena, since when you have stooped down to the profession of criticizing prospective beaux?"

Serena looked at Victoria with a blank expression. "Was I really criticizing your beau's younger brother?" she asked, causing Victoria to blush. "Dear me, aren't I terrible," she remarked, sardonically. "But really, Victoria, boys are so dull. They think of nothing else but themselves. Can you imagine that?" she asked in mock disbelief.

Hiding a smile, Victoria continued to put her things away methodically. "No, Serena, it really is not difficult to imagine," she answered in an amused voice. "No, not difficult at all."

Victoria fussed with her golden hair that night. She had decided to wear a summer turquoise dress that was styled in straight lines and looked deliciously light. Her accessories were her pearl earrings and white pumps. With the perfume bottle, she sprayed the lightest touch of apple blossom and donned her gloves. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she knocked on the door connecting her room and Serena's.

Serena turned in surprise at Victoria's entrance. "Well, well, well, you've certainly paid some much needed attention to yourself tonight," she remarked sarcastically. "Which is a relief. I was not going to acknowledge you as my cousin if you were going to look dowdy."

Victoria ignored the sarcasm. "Do I look all right?" she asked, twirling around.

"James will think you are positively radiant," Serena remarked with annoyance. She turned slightly in her chair. "How is it that I can outshine you nine times out of ten, but the tenth night you outshine me?"

Victoria laughed as she pinched her cheeks. "Serena, you always look beautiful. What balderdash you sputter."

Serena rolled her eyes, sighing sadly. "How do I look?"

Victoria glanced at Serena's wine colored dress briefly. "Flamboyant and you. Now hurry up, or else you will be late," she admonished.

Serena smiled mockingly. "Since when am I ever on time? People don't notice you, darling, if you are with them. You have to ... distinguish yourself." Crossing her legs, she turned away from Victoria towards the mirror. Taking a brush, she powdered her face lightly with powder. "Make my excuses if I'm late, will you?"

Victoria sighed and nodded. "I will, Serena. You know that I will."

With no one to converse with or to keep her amused, Victoria found herself wandering around the ballroom, stopping only when she eyed Marshall in the balcony. He was standing there, dressed elegantly in his summer suit, drinking a tall, thin glass of ... well, it seemed like champagne. The wind was gently playing with his hair. Hesitantly, Victoria stepped on the balcony, waiting for Marshall to acknowledge her presence.

Marshall looked up to find Victoria studying him curiously. He smiled, raising his champagne glass to her. Victoria tilted her head and smiled slightly. She walked quietly towards Marshall, standing next to him at the railing.

"Hello there," Victoria greeted awkwardly, trying to start a conversation. "I didn't realize you were here."

"Well, I am," Marshall snapped somewhat crossly. He took a long sip of his champagne.

Victoria glanced around at the other dancing couples. "It... why are you out here?" she asked.

Marshall glanced at Victoria. "Why do you think I'm out here?"

Victoria laughed inanely, shaking her head. "Oh, I don't know. I don't know you well enough to give you an answer." She pressed her lips together, uncertain of what to say.

"You seem to be a very quiet person, Marshall," Victoria tried again. She took a sip of water from her own glass.

Marshall shrugged, taking another casual sip of his champagne. "I suppose I should have greeted you first. I do know my manners, regardless of what you must think of me. But please excuse me this once," he remarked. "Hello, Victoria," he said with a slight bow.

Victoria smiled, trying to be pleasant. "You do not seem anything like James. But then again, none of you seem like the other." She took another sip of her mineral water, looking at Marshall over the rim of her glass.

"No, I suppose not," Marshall agreed, pulling a hand through his hair. He finished his champagne and took another glass before turning his eyes towards Victoria.

Victoria sighed and leaned against the railing of the balcony. The night air was slightly muggy and balmy. The moonlight caused Victoria's golden hair and creamy complexion to have a translucent effect. Marshall took note of this as he took another sip of his champagne. He leaned against the railing like Victoria, crossing his legs.

"James is fortunate to have a beauty as his lady," Marshall remarked abruptly, holding the stem of his champagne glass between two fingers.

Victoria's golden laughter rang out, although it was evident that she was uncomfortable in Marshall's presence. "I'm flattered that you would think so, Marshall, but I am perfectly plain compared to Serena. Serena is the beauty of the family."

Marshall shook his head, closing his eyes. "Your beauty isn't something boys appreciate, Victoria," he answered seriously. "It's something men appreciate."

"What foolishness you mutter!" Victoria objected laughingly. "I think I liked you better with your reserve," she teased.

Marshall had the tiniest smile at the corner of his mouth. "I have wondered many times, when I read James' letters to me of course, why he was so enchanted with you." He leaned closer to Victoria.

Victoria blushed. "He is not enchanted with me." She forced a laugh, trying to ease the seriousness of the conversation. "If anything, I believe I am enthralled with him. There isn't anyone like James."

"Oh really?" Marshall asked sarcastically, pulling back. "You're only sixteen. How do you know that for certain? And what about James' inviting you to our home? How do you explain that? He never did that with any other lady he supposedly loved."

"It was out of mere courtesy," Victoria said angrily, unable to hold her temper any longer. "I don't understand why you irk me so, Marshall Callahan. I barely even know you."

"I did not know you either before I saw your face," Marshall said dryly. "And I certainly do not know why I irk you, my lady. Perhaps that is something you should ask yourself."

Victoria turned away furiously, not catching the double entendre in Marshall's last remark. She was ready to walk back into the house when his voice stopped her. "You do not know your own power over men, Victoria Brown. Men, not boys. You can easily break James' heart, you know. But like I've said, I don't think you realize that. You're still naive in such matters." He raised his champagne glass to her and finished it. "Cheers, sweetheart."

Victoria turned her head slightly to glance at Marshall, her nostrils slightly pinched; she rushed quickly into the house before he could say anything else. The remark had stung.

James met a rushing Victoria as he had been about to enter the balcony to join her and Marshall. He stopped her by lightly grasping her arms and forcing her to stand still. "What's wrong, Victoria?" he asked with worry.

Victoria looked up in surprise at James. She threw her arms around his waist in relief. "James. I'm so terribly glad to see you," she murmured.

"You seem disturbed, Victoria," James said with concern. "Are you all right?"

Victoria nearly dropped her glass; only her years of training her nerves prevented her from doing so. "Of course I'm all right, James," she answered, forcing a dazzling smile. "I was conversing with Marshall. He is a very interesting conversationalist."

James smiled understandingly, relieved. "Marshall may not be the friendliest person in the world, Victoria, but he does mean well. He is my brother. He would never try to hurt you."

Victoria looked away. "Of course, he means well," she said softly.

James, who did not hear, smiled. "That turquoise dress becomes you."

Victoria glanced at herself. "Does it? Thank you. You have been the first one to say so."

James nodded, pleased that he had been the first one to compliment Victoria on her dress. "Have you danced yet?"

Victoria shook her head, wondering where all these ridiculous questions were coming from. Suddenly, the prospect of being with James for the next two years seemed tiresome. "No, I did not. Have you?" she asked in return.

James grinned sheepishly. "Out of courtesy, yes. But I was waiting for you." He held out his hand.

For some reason, Victoria did not thrill and blush as usual. She glanced at the offered hand and raised an eyebrow. "Is this an invitation, James?" she asked, pretending ignorance.

James nodded, confident that Victoria would dance her first dance this evening with him. "Yes, it is."

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Steven watched as Serena swam fluidly in the ocean. He sat on the sand with his knees bent and his hands wrapped loosely around them. He smiled as Serena waded out of the water, shaking her arms and her head.

Serena seated herself next to Steven on the sand, taking off her swimming cap. "The water is wonderful," she remarked, gratefully receiving the offered towel from Steven.

Steven took off his watch and glanced out at the horizon before turning his gaze to Serena's face. "You're a very good swimmer."

Serena shrugged, secretly pleased by his comment. Never had any young man complimented her on her something other than on her style and beauty. "Thank you," she said pleasantly.

Steven studied Serena. "You look enchanting with your hair wet," he remarked. "A sea nymph."

Serena smiled flirtatiously, a ghost of her former self showing. "Do I? Thank you."

Steven nodded, looking at Serena's lithe figure with admiration. "You must have many young men after you back home," he remarked casually.

Serena lowered her eyelids as she stared at the sand in her hands. She sifted it slowly, trying not to remember William...

"Is something wrong?" Steven asked with concern. "Something that I said?"

Serena quickly looked up and forced a false smile on her white face. "No, no, of course not," she said hastily. "I was just thinking of something. You did not offend me, Steven."

Steven studied Serena carefully before accepting Serena's explanation. He gingerly placed a blanket around her thin, shivering shoulders. When Serena looked at him in surprise, he smiled kindly. "You seem disturbed by something, if not my comments," he explained.

Serena glanced covertly at the hand placed on her shoulder and smiled wearily. "Thank you for your concern, Steven, but I really am perfectly fine," she said in a normal voice, without any of her usual sugary sweet undertone.

Steven rose from his seat on the sand, leaving Serena slightly disappointed. But he turned, holding out a hand to her, smiling.

"Come, I want you to show you something," Steven offered. "It might help you forget your problems."

Serena hesitated a moment before allowing Steven to lift her from her seat on the sand. Holding her hand tightly, Steven led Serena to his place, to his secret haven.

Victoria glanced at her cousin, who had just entered their room, her cheeks a bright pink, her black curls tousled. She was breathless as she took off her hat and tossed it aside. Victoria had been pinning up her hair for the evening party that Beau and Belle were having in their honor.

"Where were you?" Victoria asked, somewhat distracted. The pin was not slipping in as smoothly as she would have liked.

Serena tried to slow down her breathing. She attempted to sound indifferent as she answered, "Oh, on the beach, getting a light tan." She looked at her slender arms. "Tans are becoming so fashionable, you know."

"And Steven?" Victoria asked, turning her head at different angles to study her hair.

"Steven?" Serena said in a slightly nervous voice.

Victoria turned around and nodded, still not catching Serena's jittery manner. "Yes. I did not see him all day. I assumed that he was with you."

Serena fiddled with her hands, shrugging. "I suppose. I saw him on the beach," she lied.

Victoria nodded absently. "That's nice. Steven seems quite taken with you." She smiled affectionately at Serena. "It would not hurt for you to become involved with Steven. He is James' younger brother, and I do not believe I have ever met anyone nicer, except for James, of course," she added with a slight laugh. She wrinkled her nose, trying to choose her words carefully. "You know, I never really thought William was right for you. Perhaps as a fling, but ..."

Serena looked up slowly, her eyes turning into two tiny points of anger. "I would kindly appreciate it if you would not bother yourself with my personal matters." She stood up and walked over to a desk, opening the drawer. She took out a cigarette and lit a match. She took a few puffs before speaking again. "William, I assure you, is nothing but a hideous fool," she said coldly, holding her back to Victoria. "I had never planned to marry him, you know. He is below me," she added, emphasizing her last sentence.

Victoria nodded, puzzled by Serena's virulent outburst. Usually, she laughed off Victoria's well-meant remarks about the quality of her beaux. Shaking her head, Victoria lifted herself up from her chair and pressed a light kiss on Serena's cheek. "I will see you downstairs later?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Serena took another puff of her cigarette and nodded, having wrapped one arm around her waist. "Yes. If I am a little late..."

Victoria nodded. "I will make the appropriate excuses." Glancing at Serena one last time, she opened the door and left, closing it silently behind her.

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Victoria walked down the stairs with a casual but stylish lemon yellow evening dress on. She donned her gloves on, glancing at Beau and Belle Callahan, who met her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Very appropriate, Victoria," Beau said approvingly, puffing on a cigar.

Victoria glanced at her new evening dress. Belle had purchased it for her during their shopping trip. "Thank you, sir."

Belle leaned forward and hugged Victoria warmly. "She looks like a doll, doesn't she, Beau?"

Beau nodded, smiling. "Yes, she does."

Victoria accepted the glass of lemonade. "You don't drink sherry?" Beau inquired.

Victoria shook her head. "No, I don't. I don't like to drink."

Beau nodded, his eyes gleaming with approval. "With an old code of ethics, yes?"

"I suppose you could say that, sir," Victoria agreed, giving a little shrug. "But my mother could not tolerate alcohol either."

Belle exchanged a glance with Beau. "It seems you are very sensible in such matters. You cannot imagine how James' other young ladies smoked and drank all they pleased," she said, sniffing with disapproval at the recollection.

Victoria sipped her lemonade before answering. "Each lady is entitled to do what she wants," she reminded tactfully.

Belle sighed sadly. "Yes, but she should not drink till she gets drunk! That is vulgar in a young lady."

Victoria glanced around, feeling pompous and trapped in the conversation she was having with Belle. "That is vulgar in a man too, I believe. I suppose James is very busy?" she asked, changing the subject.

Beau shook his head. "No. He is out with his brothers."

"He will be back shortly," Belle added hastily. "In time for our evening dinner party."

With a slightly curious expression on her face, Victoria nodded, took another sip of her lemonade and smiled. It was time to try another tack.

Victoria stared out at the ocean before her, its colors changing and merging as the tide came in and out and as the sunlight touched the waves. Her knees were tucked under her chin, a light summer dress on over her bathing suit. She glanced at her surroundings, marveling at the beauty of the beach. How wonderful and pleasant a few moments of solitude were.

"Everything has been splendid so far," Victoria remarked to herself aloud, deciding that at the present moment, silence would be unbearable. "It's a pity that I only have a week left before I return to Boston," she added to herself, her hands sifting through the sand.

"But James will visit me often," Victoria said suddenly, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to her after considering other possibilities. "At least I am assured of that."

However, Victoria did not want to think of James now. She closed her eyes and smelled in the deep, delicious sea air. Smiling appreciatively, she opened her eyes. What she had not noticed was Marshall's presence. Marshall had been watching her; she had caught his eye.

Victoria looked down at her sandals. Lately, her feelings for Marshall had grown into something... something more special, something she was certain she did not possess for James. But that's silly, she scolded herself. You... love James, she told herself reluctantly, not understanding her reluctance at admitting such a thing to herself. After all, it was the truth, wasn't it?

"Hello there," Victoria greeted awkwardly, pressing her hands together. "I didn't know you were there."

Marshall walked towards Victoria, a brief smile on his face. "James is busy. He had some business to take care of." He placed a hand in his cardigan pocket. "James said I should keep you company," he added blandly, as an afterthought. "But he said that he would see you later."

Victoria looked up at Marshall. His crisp white shorts and shirt were an attractive contrast to his pale coloring and black hair well. He's looking quite handsome today, she thought privately. But then he always does.

"How considerate of James," Victoria returned with a forced smile. She returned her gaze to the ocean.

Marshall sat down next to Victoria, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. "You seem rather melancholy today. It cannot be homesickness. You've been here for a while," he commented astutely.

Victoria forced a laugh, fiddling with her fingers. "Oh no, I am not homesick. I never was to begin with. You see, I have enjoyed every minute of my visit here." She shook her head. "You have misinterpreted my mood. I am not melancholy, Marshall, but perhaps a bit wistful that my visit here will be ending so soon." She glanced around the beach favorably. "It is a rare opportunity to visit and to stay in a place as lovely as this."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "I see."

Victoria shook her head, smiling a little. "I am not a worldly person. No, not by any means. I have not traveled very much. I have never gone on a European tour, as most young ladies of my age do back home, and I suppose, even here in the States." She looked thoughtful. "I suppose that you could say that I have not been anywhere but home."

"You're a young lady. That's expected," Marshall said with unusual understanding. "Not all young ladies go on European tours."

Victoria's smile was even more genuine this time. "You're being terribly kind, Marshall. But to be honest with you, I have no desire to see the world," she remarked, shrugging shoulders. "I don't know why. I just don't."

Victoria absently slipped her left hand into her pocket and took out the letter she had received from Vernon yesterday. She had not read it yet; she had been looking for the perfect moment to read it; now had seemed like the right moment with all the exquisite colors of the sea and the sun as her company... except that Marshall was here.

"Who is that letter from?" Marshall asked curiously, watching Victoria's fingers move unconsciously over the firm, steady black writing.

Oblivious to Marshall's curious and sharp expression, Victoria smiled wistfully. She glanced down at the envelope in her hands. "It is from Vernon Anderson."

"The Vernon Anderson? James has mentioned him once or twice before," Marshall asked neutrally. "Do you know him well?"

"I cannot say that I know him very well, per se," Victoria remarked with a cheerful laugh. "But we are friends... at least I hope so," she added, glancing at Marshall out of the corner of her eye, "and I have known him since I was a little girl." She glanced at the envelope in her hands. "I told him that I would coming down here for a few weeks. So we decided that we would write to each other every week, if possible," she added unnecessarily.

"Sounds like you're more than close friends, though, Victoria. You're not in love with him, are you?" Marshall asked bluntly.

For a moment, Victoria's heart beat queerly as her thumbs traced Vernon black, upright handwriting. She was not looking at Marshall but staring at Vernon's handwriting. The silence was brief but the feeling of uncertainty was thick in the air. "No, of course not," she replied quietly, hesitantly.

Glancing at the letter one last time, she slipped it back into her pocket. The moment had passed.

"Are you certain? Are you perfectly sure, Victoria?" Marshall asked dryly. "There seemed to be some doubt in your voice."

Victoria looked up and forced a cool, questioning look. "Of course, I'm sure, Marshall. I haven't been more sure of anything in my life," she added resolutely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to return to the house. I still have a few things to pack before I can leave tomorrow." Lifting herself up from her seat on the sand, she nodded to Marshall before walking back up the path that she had walked down.