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Why aren't you dressed? Becky suddenly turned on her sister, standing barefoot in the blue gingham dress their mother had told her to put on. You should be dressed by now! It was seven o'clock in the morning, and they weren't leaving for the church until ten-thirty.

Mama wants me to help Grandma in the kitchen. She said it in a quiet voice, so unlike Olivia's and Becky's. It was a voice beneath which one could almost hear the husky sensuality of her singing. The songs were innocent, but the voice that sang them was filled with instinctive passion. Becky threw her own wet towel on the bed they had shared, still unmade because Crystal had fled to the fields to watch the sunrise. How can I get dressed in here, in this mess?

Crystal, make the bed, Olivia said in a stern voice as she went to help Becky comb her hair. She herself had made the veil that Becky would wear, with a little crown of white satin sewn with tiny white pearls, and yards of the stiff white tulle she had bought in Santa Rosa.

Crystal smoothed the sheets, and pulled up the heavy quilt their grandmother had made for them years before. Olivia had made a new one for Becky as a wedding gift. It had already been taken to the little cottage that was going to be their home, on the ranch, and their father was going to let Becky and Tom live there until they could afford a place of their own. Olivia liked the idea of having Becky close to her, and Tom had been relieved not to have to rent a place they couldn't afford yet. To Crystal, it hardly seemed as though Becky was leaving at all. She was going to be less than a half a mile away, along the dirt track she herself often rode with her father on the tractor.

Olivia was carefully brushing out Becky's hair as the two women talked about Cliff Johnson and his French wife. He had brought her home as a war bride, and Becky had debated long and hard about inviting them to the wedding.

She's not as bad as all that, Olivia conceded for the first time in a year, as Crystal stood silently watching. She always felt like an outsider with them. They always left her out of their conversations. She wondered if now, with Becky gone, her mother would pay more attention to her, and listen to what she had to say, or if Olivia would only spend all of her spare time at Becky's cottage. She gave you a mighty fine piece of lace, said it was her grandmother's in France. You can do something nice with it one day. They were the first kind words anyone had said about Mireille since she'd arrived the year before. She wasn't a pretty girl, but she was friendly, and she had tried desperately to fit in, despite the initial resistance of all of Cliff's friends and neighbors. There were plenty of girls waiting for the boys at home, without bringing home foreign girls from the war. But at least she was white. Not like the girl Boyd Webster had brought home from Japan. That had been a disgrace his family would never live down. Never. And Becky had fought Tom not to invite Boyd and his wife to the wedding. She had cried, she had wailed, she had raged and even pleaded. But Tom had insisted that Boyd was his best friend, they had survived four years of the war side by side, and even if he had done a damn stupid thing marrying that girl, he was not going to keep him away from their wedding. In fact, he had asked Boyd to be his best man, which had made Becky even madder. But in the end, she had had to relent. Tom Parker was even more stubborn than she was. It was going to be an embarrassment having Hiroko there, and it wasn't as though one could forget what she was, with her slant eyes and her shining black hair. Just seeing her reminded everyone of the boys they had lost in the Pacific. It was a disgrace, that's what it was. Tom didn't like her either, but Boyd was his buddy, his friend, and he was loyal to him. Boyd had paid his own price for marrying her. No one had given him a job when he brought her home, and every door in town had been slammed in their faces. Finally, old Mr. Petersen had felt sorry for him, and had given him a job pumping gas, which was too bad, because Boyd was smarter than that. He'd been planning to go to college before the war, but there was no hope of that now. He had to work to support himself and Hiroko. Everyone figured that eventually they'd get discouraged and move away. At least they hoped so. But in his own way, Boyd was as in love with the valley as Tad Wyatt and Crystal.

Crystal had been fascinated by Boyd's pretty little Japanese wife when she first arrived. Hiroko's gentle, delicate ways, her hesitant speech, her enormous politeness and her cautious English drew Crystal like a magnet. But Olivia wouldn't let Crystal speak to her, and even her father had thought it best that she stay away from them. Some things were better left alone, and these days the Websters were among them.

What are you doing, standing there, staring at your sister? Olivia noticed Crystal watching them, and suddenly remembered that she was there. I told you half an hour ago to go help Grandma in the kitchen.

Without a word, Crystal left the room, soundlessly on bare feet, as Becky chattered on nervously about the wedding. And when she got to the kitchen, there were already three women there, having come to help from neighboring farms and ranches. Becky's wedding was going to be the event of the year, and the first of the summer. Friends and neighbors would be coming from miles around. There were two hundred guests expected, as the women worked furiously to put the last touches on the enormous lunch they would serve after the service.

Where've you been, girl? Her grandmother snapped at her, and pointed rapidly at a huge ham. They slaughtered their own pigs and cured their own. Everything they would be serving was homemade and homegrown, even the wine her father would be pouring.

Crystal got to work without saying a word, and within moments she felt a sharp slap on her bottom. Nice dress, Sis. Dad get it for you in San Francisco? Inevitably, it was Jared, leering down at her from his enormous height. At sixteen, he was always anxious to tease and to torture. He was wearing new slacks that were already a little too short, and a white shirt his grandmother had pressed and starched until it could have stood on its own. But his feet were still bare, he was carrying his shoes, and his new jacket and tie were cast lazily over his shoulder. He had fought like cats and dogs with Becky for years, but in the past year Crystal had become the object of his attentions. He helped himself to a slice of the succulent ham as Crystal swiped at his fingers.

I'll cut them off if you don't watch it. She waved the knife at him, more than a little teasing. He irked her constantly. He loved to tease and to play and to annoy her. More than once he had pressed her until she took a swing at him, which he always deflected easily, and then boxed her less than gently on her ear for trying. Get away from me ' go bother someone else, Jar. More often than not she called him Jarhead. Why aren't you helping too?

I've got better things to do. I have to help Dad set out the wine.

Yeah ' I'll bet ' She growled at him, she'd seen him get drunk with his friends, but she would have died before squealing to their father. Even when they were at odds, there was still an unspoken bond between them. Make sure you leave some for the guests.

Make sure you remember to wear shoes.' He slapped her bottom again and she dropped the knife and grabbed at his arm, but too late, as he sped down the hall toward his own bedroom, whistling. He stopped outside Becky's door for an instant, and poked his head in, as she stood in her brassiere and underpants, adjusting her garter belt, just as the door flew open. Hi, kid ' Wow! He gave a long wolf whistle and Becky let out a hideous scream.

Get him out of here! She threw her hairbrush at him, but he slammed the door shut before it hit him. They were familiar sounds in the comfortable old ranch house, and no one in the kitchen paid much attention as Tad Wyatt came in, already dressed in his dark blue suit for the wedding. He had an air of solidity and warmth and quiet distinction about him. His family had had money once, lots of it, but they had lost most of it years before, even before the Depression. They had had to sell off thousands of acres, and he had turned the ranch around and made it successful again, by the sweat of his brow, and with Olivia beside him. But he had seen a little bit of the world before he married her. He talked to Crystal about it sometimes when they went on long walks, or sat in driving rains, or waited for a cow to give birth in the winter. He shared things with her that had been long buried and were almost forgotten. There's a big world out there, little girl ' with a lot of beautiful places in it ' not many better than this ' but they're worth seeing nonetheless' . He told her about places like New Orleans and New York, and even England. And whenever Olivia heard him she scolded him for filling Crystal's head with nonsense. Olivia herself had never been farther than the Southwest, and even that seemed foreign to her. And her two oldest children shared her view of the world. The valley was enough, and all the people in it. Only Crystal dreamed of something more, and wondered if she would ever see it. She loved the valley too, but there was room in her heart for more than that. Like her father she loved the valley with a passion and yet she loved to dream of faraway places.

How's my girl? Tad Wyatt wandered in and looked proudly down on his youngest daughter. Even there, in the kitchen filled with women, in her old blue gingham dress, the sight of Crystal tugged at his heart and her beauty took his breath away, and it was impossible for him to conceal it. He was only grateful that this wasn't her wedding day. He knew he couldn't have stood it. And he wouldn't have let her marry a man like Tom Parker. But for Becky, he was all right. Becky didn't have dreams ' there were no stars in the secret skies of her heart ' she had no secret visions. She wanted a husband and kids and a cottage on the ranch, and an ordinary man like Tom, with no ambition and few dreams, and that was what she was getting.

Hi, Dad. Crystal looked straight into his eyes with a gentle smile, and without words, the love that they shared spoke volumes.

Did Mama make you a pretty dress for today? He had wanted her to, he always wanted her to. He smiled, remembering the stockings he had given Crystal to wear to the wedding, even if Olivia did think him foolish.

Crystal nodded, as he watched her. It was pretty enough. But not like anything you'd see in the movies. It was just a dress. A nice, white dress. The nylon stockings were going to be the best part of her outfit, invisible and sheer and exciting. But Tad knew she could have worn anything, and she would have been lovely.

Where's your mama? He looked around the kitchen and saw only his mother-in-law and three of his wife's friends, and Crystal.

Helping Becky dress.

Already? She'll be wilted before we ever get to the church. They exchanged a smile, the day was already getting warm, and the kitchen seemed to be steaming. Where's Jared? I've been looking for him for an hour. But he looked good-natured as he said it, he wasn't easily ruffled. He had been patient with all of them ever since they were children.

He said he was going to help you with the wine. Crystal smiled as their eyes met again, and she offered him a slice of the ham she had only moments before begrudged her brother.

Help me drink it more like. They both laughed and he walked down the hall to Jared's bedroom. Jared's passion was cars and not ranches and his father knew it, the only one who truly loved the ranch, who understood it, who loved the land as he did, was Crystal. He walked past the bedroom where Becky was dressing with her mother's help, and knocked on his son's door. Come and help me move the tables, Son. There's still work to do outside. They had set long tables with white linen cloths, left over from his own mother's wedding half a century before. The guests would eat shaded by the enormous trees that surrounded the ranch house.

Tad Wyatt poked his head into Jared's room and found him lying on the bed, looking at a magazine full of pictures of women. Can I interrupt you long enough to give me a hand, Son? Jared jumped to his feet with a nervous grin, his tie askew, and his hair slicked back with a tonic he had bought in Napa.

Sure, Dad. Sorry.

Tad was careful not to rumple the boy's carefully styled hair, and put a powerful arm around his shoulders. It seemed odd to him that one of them was getting married so soon. In his mind, they were still babies ' he could remember Jared learning to walk ' and chasing chickens ' and falling off the tractor when he was four ' teaching him to drive when he was seven ' hunting with him when he was hardly taller than the rifle ' and Becky barely older than that, and now she was getting married.

It's a fine day for your sister's wedding. He looked up at the sky, and smiled at his son, as he directed Jared and three of the ranch hands where to put the tables. It was another hour before everything was set to his liking, and when he went back to the kitchen for a cool drink with Jared, Crystal was gone, and there was no sign of any of the women. All of them were in Becky and Crystal's room now, exclaiming over the dress, and sighing and dabbing at their eyes as they saw Becky finally in her lace and gauzy splendor. She was a beautiful bride, as most girls are, and all of them were pressed around her, offering her their good wishes, and making veiled comments about her wedding night, until she blushed hotly and turned to see Crystal quietly slipping into her own simple dress in the corner. The dress offered no excitement at all and yet in its stark simplicity, it only seemed to set off her beauty more. The treasured nylons were carefully in place, and the flat white pumps didn't add to her considerable height. And as she stood quietly in the corner, and they turned to look at her, with her sheaf of pale gold hair, and a little halo of baby's breath and white roses, she looked almost like an angel. By comparison, Becky seemed overdressed, overdone, and far less striking. Crystal seemed to be frozen in place in a rare moment between childhood and womanhood, there was no artifice to her, nothing raw, nothing sharp, only the subtle smoothness of her startling beauty.

Well ' Crystal looks very nice, one of the women said, as though by ordinary words one could make her less dazzling, but it couldn't be done, Crystal was who she was, and nothing could diminish that, not even the plain white dress that she wore. As one looked at her, all was forgotten except the graceful way she moved and her incredible face beneath the halo of innocent white flowers. Becky was carrying white roses, too, and the women in the room had to force themselves to turn around and exclaim over her again. But there was no denying it. It was Crystal who was the beauty.