nderneath. She wiggled in her chair, pleased.

"I've got the day off tomorrow," she told him. "I'd love to see you."

"Good deal. Here, after work?" They agreed and she watched him leave,
walking slowly. She wanted to tell him about her decision, but he had a
lot on his mind. It could wait until tomorrow. Also, that would give
her another day to make sure it was for real. She knew it was, but it
wouldn't hurt to sleep on it one more night.

In the morning, she wrote to the Dean at Stanford, requesting a leave
of absence. Willow (Clara) Brown, she signed it. It's my name, damnit,
she said to herself. Every one has always called me 'Willow.' I can't
help it if Dad is a Brahms freak. I mean, there's nothing wrong with
Clara, but Willow is my name. She was working herself up to call home.
Writing the letter first made the decision more of a fait accompli,
even though she hadn't mailed it.

She rode her bike into town and dropped the letter through the slot
inside the post office. "That's that," she said and felt better. She
called collect from a pay phone and got her mother.

"Hi, Mom."

"Willow, dear!"

"How are you?"

"Just fine. We're all fine. We're worried about you. Are you all
right?"

"Never better. Did you get my last letter?"

"The one describing your house and your new friend?"

"Yup. Well--things have moved on. Patrick is more than a friend."

Her mother sighed. "Oh, Willow, I hope you're being careful."

"Mother! Of course. And I've requested a leave of absence from school."

Silence. "I was afraid of this," her mother said. Willow waited. "Your
father will have a fit."

"Don't tell him until after he's had his drink."

Silence. Willow braced for where did we go wrong and what's the matter
with Stanford. "Baby, are you sure?" The "sure" came from a deep place
that resonated with a similar place in Willow.

"Yes," she said instantly. "I'm sure."

"All right, Dear. I'll break it to your father. But you're going to
have to deal with him."

"I will. I'll write and let you know my plans. I'm not sure where I'll
be this winter. Probably here. I'll let you know."

"Be careful, Dear. I love you."

"I love you, too." Willow put down the phone amazed.

"I mean," she said later to Amber, "I couldn't believe it. She actually
talked to me like a grownup, like a woman."

"Far out," Amber said. "I think we better send her some flowers."

"What a good idea!" Willow jumped to her feet and paced t