Ann Hall appears with a buttermilk cake she’s whipped up for the impromptu party. She tells Asia to pass around cups of mint tea, which Asia does with a smiling face, all the while wishing she could make them all go away and leave Edwin to his family. Luckily their stores of hard cider are insufficient to the day or the men would never have gone home.

As it is, the party doesn’t end until dusk. Only then does Edwin make it the last few steps, up the porch and into the parlor. It’s the first time he’s been inside Tudor Hall. Mother takes him through so that he can admire the size of the rooms, the number of windows. The house looks to its best advantage at just this time of day when the fireflies blink in the grass outside and the time has come to light the lamps in the parlor.

Edwin disappears to wash up, and he’s gone so long, Asia worries suddenly that he won’t return, that she dreamt the whole thing. But then he’s back, his hair and face still damp. She feels so tight with excitement and expectation she can hardly breathe. Edwin was always her favorite! How had she forgotten that?

Finally, he opens his trunks. He shows them first a resolution, printed on parchment, passed by the California legislature, declaring him to be one of the state’s great treasures. The state of California, this resolution says, is now generously sharing him with the rest of the country.

He’s brought sugar and a large spiraled shell from Hawaii, puzzle boxes from San Francisco’s Chinatown and Mexican chaps for John and Joe. A necklace for Rosalie with a green stone shaped like the crescent moon. A silver bracelet for Asia, which she immediately snaps onto her wrist, shaking her arms to see it glitter in the lamplight. Embroidered scarves for all the women, including Ann Hall.

To Mother, he gives the proceeds of his final San Francisco performances, a series of benefits and farewells including his first performance ever of King Lear (the Tate adaptation in which Cordelia survives and triumphs). He’s earned the nearly unbelievable sum of twenty thousand dollars, much of it in gold. He gives Mother his purse and it’s so heavy it falls through her hands. Mother begins to sob.

She’s worn herself out, worn herself to the bone, waiting for him to rescue them. Asia hears her long, jagged exhale, as if, ever since Father died, she’s been holding her breath and only now can she breathe again.

When Mother cries, Rosalie does the same. Asia feels that the sun has stepped out of the sky and into the Booth parlor. Edwin’s shining so brightly, her eyes water when she looks at him. It takes her a moment to understand that she, too, is crying.

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