armies of people shuffling around beneath the enormously tall ceilings. Everywhere around her were advertisements and posters and billboards and announcements. She looked like a little girl as she trundled along beside her husband, and he almost had to shoo her out of the main lobby to get her to the platform area where they would find their train.
“But it's wonderful, Brad!”
He grinned at her delight, and tipped the porter as he unloaded their bags onto the train.
“I'm glad you like it.”
But she liked the train even better. It was far more luxurious than any of the postwar trains in Europe. In Italy and France nothing had as yet been completely restored from the condition it had been left in by the armies of occupation. Here mahogany-skinned white-coated porters with stiff caps assisted them into their tiny but impeccable quarters. They had a velvet banquette, immaculate linens, thick rugs beneath their feet, and a tiny bathroom. In Serena's opinion it was the perfect honeymoon suite, and the prospect of spending three days there with Brad enchanted her.
Their actual plan was to spend two days on the train until they reached Denver, to leave the train there, rent a car, drive to Aspen, and then return to Denver, and take the train on to San Francisco. Brad had taken his brother's suggestion, and the young couple could hardly wait. But first they had to take the train to Chicago, where they would spend the day and change trains, then continue their journey.
Half an hour after they had boarded, the train inched out of the station and hurtled through New York. As Serena watched the city disappear behind them, Brad was silent beside her.
“You're so quiet. Is something wrong?” She looked at him inquiringly as they rolled along.
“I was just thinking.”
“What about?”
“My mother.”
For a moment Serena said nothing, and then she raised her eyes slowly to her husband's. “Perhaps she will come to accept me in time.” But the memory of what Margaret had tried to do told Serena that her mother-in-law would never come to love her. There was no trust, no understanding, no compassion, and no interest. There was nothing but bitterness and resentment and hatred. She had tried to buy Serena off in the most venal of ways. To think she had wanted her to abort her own grandchild. What kind of woman was Margaret Fullerton?
“It kills me that she was so unfair.” And he didn't even know the whole.
“She couldn't help it.” Serena found herself thinking back to the morning's wedding. How strange to think that it could have been Brad's wedding and that Pattie could have been sitting at that very moment on the train. The very thought sent a chill through her, and she reached for his hand and held it tightly.
“It doesn't matter, love. We have our life now. And you're going to love San Francisco.”
But before she loved San Francisco, she loved Denver, and she loved Aspen even more. They stayed in the town's only hotel, a quaint Victorian affair with high ceilings and lace curtains. The meadows were covered with wildflowers, the mountains were still capped with snow. It looked just like the Alps to Serena when she looked out the window every morning, and they went for long walks beside streams, and lay in the sunshine on the grass, talking about their respective childhoods and their hopes for their own children.
They spent almost two weeks in Aspen, and they hated to leave when the appointed day came for them to return to Denver and resume their journey on the train. But they once again boarded the train heading west from Chicago, and this time they only had to travel for a single day, and the Rockies were too soon left behind them. The day after they had boarded, they awoke to see hills in the distance and flat land around them, and a little while later Serena was enchanted to catch a glimpse of the bay. The train station was located in a singularly ugly part of the city, but as soon as they got a cab and made their way north into the heart of town, they saw how lovely a city it really was. To their right lay the bay, shining and flat, dotted with boats, and rimmed with hills. All around them were the steep hillsides, with Victorian houses built on them, there were tiny pastel-colored houses and handsome brick mansions, stucco Mediterranean villas, and delightful English gardens. It