I’m enclosing a second letter for Grace and Jeremy and yet another for Brewster.  I’m told his barn is beautiful and now others want one like it.  He’s only just beginning and I know will do so much that’s amazing and good.  It’s hard to be apart from him, from all of them.  Hold them close for me.  Please give my love to Ellis and Isabelle and their daughters—are there four now?  And as always, to my first love, Miller, wherever he has got himself to this time.

Write when you can, to the address I gave you from the publishing house.  Your letters mean the world to me.  The East is fascinating for what it is—yes, the oysters and wine and feather beds and here I am to see them—but I miss Oregon and our house and the fields and horses and goats and geese and our life there more than I can ever say.  I’ve thanked you many times before, but thank you again for believing in me, for seeing the goodness in Jenkins, and even though I was so young, for letting me go.  I will come back to you, I promise.

With deepest love and affection,

Your grateful daughter,

Ada McPherson