Rose was putting the finishing touches on her modest tea table. She had set the food and teapot out on a small wicker table on their front porch. From there it was possible to get a breathtaking view of the mountains. Her lovely china teapot was filled with hot water. Jack had bought it for her with one of his first paychecks, after he had seen her admiring it in a shop window. Four chocolate eclairs that she had purchased just an hour ago graced a simple glass plate that she had covered with a paper doile.

Rose stood back and admired her handiwork. She really had no wish to compare it with the table settings she had grown up with. But what she saw in front of her was neat, and elegant in it's own simplicity. It certainly pleased her. Surely her mother would approve. Or would she.

"Mother," thought Rose to herself. "I am so nervous about all this. But why? Mother can't do anything to me. She can't take away Jack or the baby."

But the more Rose thought, the more she knew why she was nervous. Ruth was still probably capable of her icy stares and cutting remarks, regardless of her comments a few months earlier in New York, that she wanted them to be friends.

Rose had not seen her mother since then. She and Jack had gone on their three week wedding trip, arriving in Denver at the end of May. Ruth, probably at Molly's prodding, had sent a few notes to which Rose had responded. And now finally in the middle of August, she felt that she was ready to have her mother to tea. She could no longer avoid the issue. Even Jack had been insistent that she get this over with, so she would calm down.

Rose had swept and polished their little house to the best of her ability. Then she had hurried out to buy the eclairs. She remembered that once a long time ago, she had seen her mother sneak two eclairs after some company had left. Ruth had such a look of delight and guilt on her face. Rose decided that maybe these treats would sweeten her mother up a bit. She just wondered how her mother would react to Byron.

Byron was her three month old Bernese Mountain Dog puppy. Someone that Jack worked with had given it to him and when he had brought the puppy home to Rose, it had been love at first sight. Now Byron and Rose were inseparable.

"But mother can't stand animals in the house. Well, never mind. This is my house now," Rose told herself, trying to be ready for any comments that Ruth might make.

She heard the clock chiming in the dining room. It was 2:45. Her mother was supposed to be here at three.

Ruth looked at her watch that was pinned to the jacket of her suit. It was almost three. She had followed the directions that Rose had sent her for walking to their house. The people at the hotel had told her that it was about a twenty minute walk. She should be there soon.

Ruth looked around her studying the houses along the way. It was not an unpleasant neighborhood that she saw. Just not a wealthy one. Most of the houses looked like they had been built about twenty years ago. They were all frame and most of them decorated and covered with various patterns of wooden gingerbread. Many were painted white or gray with shutters and trim done in red, or green. One or two fanciful owners had pale lilac or blue color schemes. She certainly hoped that Rose's home was not painted in some outlandish way.

Ruth had arrived in Denver in early May with Molly. Since Molly was currently renting out her House of Lions on Pennsylvania Street, the two ladies had taken up residence at the Brown Palace Hotel in downtown Denver. That was much to Ruth's liking, as she was able to continue living in the style to which she was accustomed. Twice a day maid service, room service at the touch of a button, luxurious furniture and other affluent people.

But soon after their arrival, Ruth was left on her own. Molly's nieces wanted to go to her home in Newport, Rhode Island and Molly decided that she needed to accompany them. She left Ruth an advance on her small salary and gave her instructions for dealing with the mail, going to make weekly visits to the housekeeper at her large home to check on the household books, and forwarding any important information to her in Newport.

It hadn't taken long for Ruth to develop a routine for doing all of the work that Molly had asked of her. But time weighed heavily on her. With no friends to talk to, Ruth was becoming increasingly lonely and depressed. She wanted to meet people, but she honestly did not know how. Rose had either been away or getting settled. She would have been happy to help, but she truthfully was very nervous about the initial meeting between them, and waited for Rose to make the first move.

One day she had been talking to Molly's housekeeper. The woman told her about the sewing circle she belonged to at her church and how she wished that she had more time for that. This gave Ruth an idea.

One Sunday, she dressed in her best and went to attend services at the Episcopal Church. While she expected that no one would talk to her, several outgoing women spotted her as a newcomer and invited Ruth to attend their next mission circle meeting the following Tuesday. Ruth seemed reluctant, but these ladies would take no for an answer. While they were impressed to hear that Ruth was an acquaintance of Mrs. Brown, of Titanic fame, they seemed to like Ruth for herself. Ruth did not let on that she had shared in Molly's experience.

In the weeks that followed, Ruth slowly allowed some friendships to begin to build between her and the women she had met. She attended their circle meetings, which took place every other week. And she started to go their frequent sewing gatherings.

"How ironic," she thought. "I told Rose I would have to be a seamstress if she didn't marry Hockley. And here I am doing almost that very thing."

Ruth thought long and hard about the confessions that she had made to Molly, so many weeks ago. It was still painful for her to think about her past existence. And it was harder still to try and be accepting of her new life. But she kept reminding herself that she was lucky to have survived that ordeal, that her daughter was safe and that she had found Molly who had given aid to both herself and Rose and Jack. Yes, she had much to be grateful for. And she had to admit that she was thankful for the opportunity to change. To think of others, instead of only herself. It was still hard, and often she found herself biting her tongue when some caustic comment was ready to fly from her lips.

"Can I control myself when I see Rose, and when I see that Jack?" Ruth wondered.

The moment of truth was upon her. She glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand and compared that to the address on the small, tidy frame house in front of her. She had arrived. Ruth pulled down on her suit jacket, pushed her fingers up through her hair and straightened her hat.

"I feel like I am meeting someone for the first time," she mused.

Ruth started up the walk with her heart in her mouth.

"God help me that I don't say anything stupid. I really want this to go well. Rose is all I have. I just hope that Jack hasn't put any kind of wild thoughts in her head. You can never tell with people like that."

Ruth walked up the stairs of the front porch, noticing how clean and well kept things were. Oh, there were some tiny spots of peeling paint here and there. But obviously, someone had taken a great deal of care in getting this all ready.

Just as she put up her hand to knock, the door opened and Rose stood in front of her. They were alone for the first time in months. They were really strangers to one another. Rose and Ruth were starting back at the beginning.