I smiled just a bit at his correction, and then I sighed. “We are going to go see Alice.”

Alice was on the bottom porch step, too hyper to wait for us inside. She looked about to break into a celebration dance, so excited was she about the news she knew I was there to deliver.

“Thank you, Bella!” she sang as we got out of the truck.

“Hold it, Alice,” I warned her, lifting a hand up to halt her glee. “I’ve got a few limitations for you.”

“I know, I know, I know. I only have until August thirteenth at the latest, you have veto power on the guest list, and if I go overboard on anything, you’ll never speak to me again.”

“Oh, okay. Well, yeah. You know the rules, then.”

“Don’t worry, Bella, it will be perfect. Do you want to see your dress?”

I had to take a few deep breaths. Whatever makes her happy, I said to myself.

“Sure.”

Alice’s smile was smug.

“Um, Alice,” I said, keeping the casual, unruffled tone in my voice. “When did you get me a dress?”

It probably wasn’t much of a show. Edward squeezed my hand.

Alice led the way inside, heading for the stairs. “These things take time, Bella,” Alice explained. Her tone seemed . . . evasive. “I mean, I wasn’t sure things were going to turn out this way, but there was a distinct possibility. . . .”

“When?” I asked again.

“Perrine Bruyere has a waiting list, you know,” she said, defensive now. “Fabric masterpieces don’t happen overnight. If I hadn’t thought ahead, you’d be wearing something off the rack!”

It didn’t look like I was going to get a straight answer. “Per — who?”

“He’s not a major designer, Bella, so there’s no need to throw a hissy fit. He’s got promise, though, and he specializes in what I needed.”

“I’m not throwing a fit.”

“No, you’re not.” She eyed my calm face suspiciously. Then, as we walked into her room, she turned on Edward.

“You — out.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Bella,” she groaned. “You know the rules. He’s not supposed to see the dress till the day of.”

I took another deep breath. “It doesn’t matter to me. And you know he’s already seen it in your head. But if that’s how you want it. . . .”

She shoved Edward back out the door. He didn’t even look at her — his eyes were on me, wary, afraid to leave me alone.

I nodded, hoping my expression was tranquil enough to reassure him.

Alice shut the door in his face.

“All right!” she muttered. “C’mon.”

She grabbed my wrist and towed me to her closet — which was bigger than my bedroom — and then dragged me to the back corner, where a long white garment bag had a rack all to itself.

She unzipped the bag in one sweeping movement, and then slipped it carefully off the hanger. She took a step back, holding her hand out to the dress like she was a game show hostess.

“Well?” she asked breathlessly.

I appraised it for a long moment, playing with her a bit. Her expression turned worried.

“Ah,” I said, and I smiled, letting her relax. “I see.”

“What do you think?” she demanded.

It was my Anne of Green Gables vision all over again.

“It’s perfect, of course. Exactly right. You’re a genius.”

She grinned. “I know.”

“Nineteen-eighteen?” I guessed.

“More or less,” she said, nodding. “Some of it is my design, the train, the veil. . . .” She touched the white satin as she spoke. “The lace is vintage. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. It’s just right for him.”

“But is it just right for you?” she insisted.

“Yes, I think it is, Alice. I think it’s just what I need. I know you’ll do a great job with this . . . if you can keep yourself in check.”

She beamed.

“Can I see your dress?” I asked.

She blinked, her face blank.

“Didn’t you order your bridesmaid dress at the same time? I wouldn’t want my maid of honor to wear something off the rack.” I pretended to wince in horror.

She threw her arms around my waist. “Thank you, Bella!”

“How could you not see that one coming?” I teased, kissing her spiky hair. “Some psychic you are!”

Alice danced back, and her face was bright with fresh enthusiasm. “I’ve got so much to do! Go play with Edward. I have to get to work.”

She dashed out of the room, yelling, “Esme!” as she disappeared.

I followed at my own pace. Edward was waiting for me in the hallway, leaning against the wood-paneled wall.

“That was very, very nice of you,” he told me.

“She seems happy,” I agreed.

He touched my face; his eyes — too dark, it had been so long since he’d left me — searched my expression minutely.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suddenly suggested. “Let’s go to our meadow.”

It sounded very appealing. “I guess I don’t have to hide out anymore, do I?”

“No. The danger is behind us.”

He was quiet, thoughtful, as he ran. The wind blew on my face, warmer now that the storm had really passed. The clouds covered the sky, the way they usually did.

The meadow was a peaceful, happy place today. Patches of summer daisies interrupted the grass with splashes of white and yellow. I lay back, ignoring the slight dampness of the ground, and looked for pictures in the clouds. They were too even, too smooth. No pictures, just a soft, gray blanket.

Edward lay next to me and held my hand.

“August thirteenth?” he asked casually after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“That gives me a month till my birthday. I didn’t want to cut it too close.”

He sighed. “Esme is three years older than Carlisle — technically. Did you know that?”