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Maybe one day. But she wasn't thinking about that now. She was only thinking of him, and how much she would miss him. I'm glad I saw you again ' even with all this ' it was worth it. Even for a few days of dreams. At least she had seen him. And held him. And touched him. And he had told her he loved her.

I don't know how you can say that now. I feel like a real shit ' especially with your seeing it first in the papers.

She shrugged. Maybe it didn't matter now. Maybe nothing did. He had never been part of her life. He had only been a dream, from beginning to end ' but a nice dream. And then, wishing she was stronger than that, she started to cry again, but it hurt so much to say good-bye to him, knowing it was forever. I hope you'll be happy.

So do I. But he sounded less than sure of it. Promise you'll call me if you need me. I'm serious, Crystal. He knew she had no one else now, except the Websters, and they couldn't have done much to help her.

I'll be okay. She smiled and fought back the tears again. I'm tough, you know.

Yeah ' I know that ' I just wish you didn't have to be. You deserve to have someone terrific to take care of you. He wanted to add and I wish I were that person, but it would have been too cruel, and too pointless for both of them. And then, knowing there was nothing left to say, Good-bye, Crystal, I love you. There were tears in his eyes and he could barely hear her whispered answer.

I love you too, Spencer ' And the phone went dead in his hand, and she was gone. Forever.

He wrote to her once, just to tell her how sorry he was, and how much she had meant to him, as hard as it had been to put it into words, but the letter came back unopened, unanswered. He wasn't sure if she had moved, but he didn't really think so. She was just wise enough not to start something neither of them could finish. And she knew that now she had to put it behind her. It wasn't easy. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, except leaving the ranch and the valley, but she forced herself to try and forget him. She didn't even want to sing the songs anymore that she had sung that night when he had come back to see her. Everything reminded her of him, every morning, every day, every night, every song, every sunset. Every waking moment was spent thinking of him. In years past, all she had had were her dreams, but now she had enough more to make it infinitely more painful. She knew the exact color of his eyes, the smell of his hair, the feel of his lips, the touch of his hands, the sound of his voice when he spoke in a whisper. And now all of it had to be forgotten. She had her whole life ahead of her, and no one to love, but she had her gifts from God, Mrs. Castagna reminded her frequently, and she had Pearl to remind her that Hollywood was still waiting. But now, without Spencer, none of it seemed quite so important.

And for Spencer, things settled down again eventually. He thought of Crystal a lot, but he was determined to make an honest commitment. He went to Palm Beach for Christmas with Elizabeth, and he began to find his footing again. He thought constantly about writing to Crystal, but he never did again. He knew Crystal wanted to be left alone, and he felt much too guilty. And Elizabeth overlooked all of it, like a social faux pas she was too gracious to mention.

They had a nice Christmas in spite of it and returned from Florida relaxed and tanned, and there were only six months left until the wedding.

Elizabeth usually kept him busy with parties in New York, and trips to Washington to visit her parents. He scarcely had time to think of anything that spring, but still more often than not, there were gnawing thoughts of Crystal and he did his best to fight them. There was no point driving himself crazy over her. He was doing the right thing, he told himself, almost daily.

Mrs. Barclay went to San Francisco in early May, to oversee the last details. They were to be married in Grace Cathedral, just as Elizabeth wanted, and the reception was going to be at the St. Francis Hotel. She had wanted it at home, but she also wanted to invite over seven hundred people, and they had no choice but to do it at a hotel. There were going to be fourteen ushers, and a dozen bridesmaids. It was the kind of wedding he had read about, but never even been to. And he flew out to San Francisco with Elizabeth in June, the day after she finished school. It was the end of her third year, and she was transferring to Columbia in the fall, so she could graduate after they were married. It was the only condition her father had set on them before he agreed to the marriage. He wanted Elizabeth to graduate, and he was only very sorry that she wouldn't be graduating from Vassar. But all Elizabeth wanted was to be with her husband. They were in high spirits on the plane, and Spencer knew that there was going to be a constant round of parties when they got to California. The wedding was still a week away, on the seventeenth of June, and they were going to Hawaii for their honeymoon. She could hardly wait, and the week before she had announced airily that she was putting Spencer on restriction before the wedding. He was teasing her mercilessly about it on the plane, and telling her he could no longer be held responsible for his actions. But their opportunities were going to be more limited than before. Her father had taken a room for him at the Bohemian Club, as well as for all the ushers coming from out of town, among them George from Spencer's office. He still remembered how sure George had been that he was doing the right thing and he believed it too. Until he set foot back in San Francisco.

He suddenly found himself thinking of Crystal night and day. He was so close now, and he desperately wanted to see her. But drinking a great deal more than usual, and keeping his own counsel this time, he forced himself not to. It would have been a cruel thing to do to her anyway, and he plunged himself heart and soul into their wedding plans, and the elaborate parties being given for them daily.

There were parties in Atherton, Woodside, and several in San Francisco, and the Barclays gave a huge reception dinner for the wedding party at the Pacific Union Club the night before the wedding. Spencer had had his bachelor dinner the night before, and Ian had organized it for him. It included several strippers, and a flood of champagne, and Spencer had successfully resisted the urge to go to Harry's on the way home and tell Crystal he still loved her. He tried to explain it to Ian incoherently, but then remembered he wasn't supposed to.

That's right, son, Ian had grinned, we always drink champagne in crystal glasses. They had put him to bed in his room at the club, and Spencer was greatly subdued the next day at the rehearsal dinner. They all were. And Elizabeth looked radiant in a pink satin evening gown. She had never been more beautiful than she was these days. Her mother had bought her some exquisite dresses in Washington and New York, and she was wearing her hair longer now in a French twist, which showed off the incredible diamond earrings her parents had given her for her wedding. They had given Spencer a Patek Philippe watch, and a platinum cigarette case embedded with sapphires and diamonds. His own gift to them was a gold box, engraved with a line from a poem he knew meant a great deal to Justice Barclay. And he gave Elizabeth a ruby necklace and matching earrings that were going to take him several years to pay for. But he knew how much she liked rubies, and she was used to only the best. And as he smiled at her that night, at the Pacific Union Club, he knew she deserved it.

The wedding was at noon the next day, and the ushers left the Bohemian Club in a convoy of limousines. The bride was coming to the church in her late grandfather's 1937 Rolls, which was still in perfect condition. The Barclays only used it on state occasions, and Elizabeth looked radiant as two maids and the butler settled her with the fourteen-foot train carefully draped inside the car, her father staring at her in mute admiration. She wore a crown of lace, encrusted with tiny pearls, and set into it, carefully designed, was her elegant little tiara. The thin French veiling cascaded around her like mist, and the high-necked lace gown showed off the slenderness of her figure. It was an incredible dress, an incredible day, an unforgettable moment, as the chauffeur drove them to Grace Cathedral and children on the street pointed at the bride. She looked beautiful, and her father had to fight back tears as they walked solemnly up the aisle to the strains of Lohengrin, and children's voices sang like angels with the chorus.

Spencer watched her approach, and he could feel his heart pound. This was the moment they had waited for. It had finally come. It was done. And as she smiled at him through her veil, he knew he had done the right thing. She looked lovely. And in moments, she would be his wife. For always.

They walked back down the aisle, followed by the bridesmaids and ushers, smiling at their friends, and the reception line took forever. It was one o'clock before they left the church, and one-thirty when they arrived at the St. Francis. The newspapers were waiting for them there. It was the biggest wedding San Francisco had seen in years, and there were crowds of people in the street, watching as the limousines arrived. It was obvious that she was somebody very important. They hurried into the hotel, and they danced and ate and drank all afternoon. And it occurred to Spencer more than once that it was a little like a political reception. People had arrived from Washington and New York. Several other Supreme Court justices were there, and all the most important Democrats in California. And they had gotten a telegram from President Truman himself.

And finally, at six o'clock, she went upstairs to change, and took off the gown she'd never wear again. She looked at it sadly for a moment, thinking of the endless hours of fittings, the attention to detail, and now she would have to put it away, to save for her own daughters to wear. She wore a white silk suit when she came downstairs, and a beautiful hat by Chanel, and the guests threw rose petals as they left. They were driven in the old Rolls to the airport. Their flight to Hawaii wasn't until eight o'clock, and as they stopped for a drink in the restaurant, Elizabeth looked at her husband and smiled victoriously.

Well, kid, we did it.

It was beautiful, darling. He leaned over and kissed her. I'll never forget you in that dress.

I hated to put it away. It seemed so strange, after all that care and excitement over it, that I'd never wear it again. She was feeling tender and nostalgic, and she slept with her head on his shoulder on the plane that night, and he smiled happily, certain that he loved her. They were going to Hawaii, and then they were going to join her parents for a week at Lake Tahoe before Justice Barclay went back to Washington, and they went back to New York to look for an apartment. She was moving in with him until they found what they wanted. She wanted to live on Park Avenue, which was too expensive on his salary, but she insisted she wanted to contribute too. She had gotten a trust fund when she turned twenty-one, but he was uncomfortable about her helping him. They hadn't worked it out yet, which was why it seemed simpler for her to move in with him until things were settled. And she hadn't had time to look for a place anyway, while she was at Vassar.

But he knew everything was going to go smoothly, as she slept and they flew steadily on toward Honolulu. They stayed at the Halekulani on Waikiki, and the days drifted by like moments, as they lay on the beach, and went back to their room several times a day to make love. Her father had arranged a visiting membership at the Outrigger Canoe Club, and he called once to see how they were, in spite of his wife's protests. She thought they should leave them alone, but he wanted to know how they were, and he was anxious to see them at Lake Tahoe.

They flew back on the twenty-third of June, and were happy and brown when they arrived. Justice Barclay had a car waiting for them, and Spencer drove to the lake, on the same day that Pearl showed Crystal the pictures of their wedding in the papers. She had meant to show them to her long before. The article talked about Elizabeth's incredible wedding gown, and the fourteen-foot train. Crystal felt a knot in her chest as she read the details, and stared for a long time at a picture of Spencer, holding Elizabeth's hand and smiling.

They're a good-looking pair, aren't they? Pearl still remembered that they had come to the club the previous winter. She had a good memory for faces and names, and she still remembered reading about their engagement in the paper, around Thanksgiving.

Crystal didn't answer her. She only folded the newspaper and handed it back to her, trying to forget that she still loved him. It was a bleak day, and she went home early that night. She looked sick, and she told Harry she had a terrible headache. They had enough entertainers that night anyway, and a lot of their customers were away. Harry's had become a very popular club, in great part due to her, and her growing reputation as a singer.

But as she lay in bed that night, trying to forget the pictures she'd seen in the papers, Elizabeth and Spencer were sitting quietly near the lake and talking. Her parents had already gone to bed, and it was late, but there was always a lot to say. And they were talking about some things her father had said about McCarthy's witch-hunts. Spencer had disagreed with him violently. He thought many of the accusations being made were unfair, and Elizabeth was teasing him now, telling him that he was a dreamer.

That's bullshit, Elizabeth. The House Committee is running around accusing innocent people of being Communists. That's disgraceful!

What makes you so sure they're innocent? She smiled. She was in full agreement with her father.

The whole country can't be red, for chrissake. And besides, it's no one's business.

With the unrest in the Far East, how can you say that? Communism is the biggest threat to our world today. Do you want another war?

No. But we're not talking about a war. We're talking about attitudes in our own country. What happened to freedom of choice? What about the Constitution? He hated talking politics with her. He liked her better when they were making love, or holding hands, or just sitting in the moonlight. Anyway, I just happen to disagree with your father. They'd been discussing it for hours, and after the long flight from Hawaii, and the drive to the lake, he was exhausted. Let's go to bed.