“Of course not.” Bett pushed her damp hair back from her forehead. “Tell me what you need to bring in immediately, Mom; the rest we’ll get after the rain stops.”

“I really think you should get out of those wet clothes first.”

Bett shook her head, smiling. “It’s warm-wet, not cold-wet. Really, it’s okay.”

“Well, as far as just the essentials go…”

The seven plants had to come in-they could catch cold in the rain. The base for the canary cage. Four suitcases. Elizabeth never traveled without her own reading lamp and pillow, nor the box of china that had been a wedding gift when she’d married Chet. Four shoeboxes full of coupons; Elizabeth planned to go shopping. Three afghans; it was no fun at all to work on just one at a time. Her rocker with the yellow velvet cushion. She always sat in that rocker before dinner. “You’re irritated with me, aren’t you, Brittany?” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

Panting and dripping, Bett dropped the next load of boxes on the floor. The couches were filled. “Of course not, Mom.”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind just bringing in the presents, then. Brittany, you’re already so very wet, but I could hardly come without presents, now could I? It’s not every son-in-law who would be willing to put up with his wife’s mother for any period of time. I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate it; you know I love Zach.”

Bett soon discovered that Elizabeth loved Zach worth a purple tie, three issues of Penthouse, a bottle of Johnny Walker, one package of fresh-frozen crab from Alaska, a tie clasp adorned with brass golf balls and four dress shirts in various pastels. “You think he won’t wear the powder-pink?” Elizabeth fretted.

“He’ll love it,” Bett lied without a qualm. Zach would wear a pink shirt when mainland China became a democracy-sort of a better-not-hold-your-breath kind of proposition. But Elizabeth was so pathetically eager to please… “Anything else we need this minute?”