While Sahara’s production forged ahead and his books continued to hit the bestseller lists, Clive was facing a personal crisis.

During the weekend Clive received his honorary degree from the Maritime College in 1997, Barbara had informed her family she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. “We were shattered,” Teri says. “When I asked Mom why she hadn’t said anything earlier, she said she didn’t want to ruin Clive’s wonderful moment.”

At the time, Dirk recalls thinking, “My mother was the last person you would think had cancer. She was a borderline health nut, always ate well, took lots of vitamins and liked to exercise. She apparently smoked for a while in her twenties, but like Bill Clinton, always claimed she never inhaled.” In the fall of 1997, Barbara underwent a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale. After a successful recovery, she resumed her normal activities and Dirk, along with the rest of his family, “assumed that would be the end of it.”

During a routine physical in 2001, Barbara’s doctor discovered several suspicious spots on her lungs. When tests suggested it might be serious, her doctors scheduled her for surgery. “My mother’s illness took us completely by surprise,” Dirk says. “The entire family was there when the surgeon came out to the waiting room. He told us they had removed a small section on one of her lungs and some cancerous tissue in her lymph nodes. This didn’t mean anything to me, but I’ve often thought of the grim look on his face. He must have known then that my mother’s long-term prospects were not good. Barbara sailed through chemo - quietly, without complaint - and life for our family was soon back to normal.”

Teri, now separated from her husband, was living in Denver with her son and daughter and working as a teacher’s assistant for the Arvada school system. Dayna moved to California when she was twenty-two and worked in Hollywood as a costume assistant. An accomplished dancer, actress, and musician (she plays the drums), Dayna was now selling real estate, performing in a local theater, and freelancing as a wardrobe consultant. Single, she shares her life with, “a wonderful boyfriend and an equally wonderful Weimaraner hound named Otto.”

After working in Washington for two years, Dirk earned an MBA at Berkeley. In 1987, he moved to Phoenix and was hired by Motorola as a financial analyst for the Iridium program.

Iridium turned out to be an expensive disaster for Motorola, but a boon for Dirk. In 1998, Kerry Kennedy was hired as a program planner. A native of Los Alamos, New Mexico, Kerry graduated with an MBA from the College of Santa Fe. “We met during a training class,” Dirk recalls. “I hit on her during a company ski club trip. For reasons I don’t understand, Kerry overlooked the fact that she was a much better skier than I am.”

Dirk and Kerry were married on March 16, 2002, in Scottsdale. “Clive and Barbara,” Dirk says, “let us use their backyard for the reception. My mother looked beautiful and happy. After we came home from our honeymoon, I learned the doctors had found some spots on her brain shortly before the wedding. The summer and fall of 2002 would turn out to be the final fight in my mother’s losing battle.”

Barbara received radiation treatments and chemotherapy, but by the first week in December, her condition had worsened, and Teri and Dayna flew to Telluride to see her. “Dad had to do a mini book tour back east,” Teri says, “I remember Mom looking so frail.”

On Christmas Eve, the family gathered at Dirk’s house. “My mother’s physical condition was distressing,” Dirk recalls. “She had lost a lot of weight and had trouble walking.” Dayna remembers a conversation with her father while they were decorating the tree. “He told me they had called hospice for Barbara. Mom was lying on the couch, but she was not actually there. I have always been the goofy comedian of the family and that night I only managed to get one little smile out of Mom.”

Assisted by Bertha Garcia, a caregiver provided by hospice, Teri and Dayna were now providing around the clock care for their mother. “We didn’t even have a kitchen,” Teri says. “Dad was having the kitchen remodeled and was adding an addition to the house. Everything was blocked off with tarps, and Dayna and I ended up heating prepared food in a microwave. I know Dad was doing the remodeling for Mom because he thought if the house was fixed up she wouldn’t dare die. It was his way to hope for the best.”

“The hospice people did a great service,” Dirk ways, “but they were a bit liberal with the painkillers. We bullied them to ease back on the meds, and Mom was more lucid.” He laughs, “Kerry and I needed a new dining room table. Barbara had offered to purchase one for a wedding present, but it was put on the back burner when she got sick. While I was visiting her one afternoon, she tried to climb out of bed, with a slew of IVs sticking in her arms, and take me furniture shopping. Mom was always thinking of someone else.”

By mid-January, it was obvious Barbara’s time was short. “The last three days,” Dayna says, “were the hardest. They put her on a respirator and Teri was painting Mom’s nails when she stopped breathing. I ran to get Clive, and we all fell into each other’s arms. Mom had an inner, quiet beauty that she never lost, even at the end.”

Dirk recalls a bright moment in those melancholy days. “Kerry was a few months pregnant and had an ultrasound scheduled for January 20th. I know Barbara was fighting hard to see her new grandchild. We brought the video over to my parent’s house and my mother, alert as ever, was joking about baby names. The next morning, she left us.”

Barbara Claire Cussler died on January 21, 2003, and was laid to rest in Dallas Park, a cemetery situated in Ridgway, a small town near Telluride. Surrounded by the mountain beauty she loved, Barbara’s grave is marked by a pink marble stone, engraved with an inscription composed by Clive: ENDEARED TO EVERYONE SHE TOUCHED. SHE WALKS WITH THE ANGELS. The stone is also engraved with Clive’s epithet: IT WAS A GREAT PARTY WHILE IT LASTED. I TRUST IT WILL CONTINUE ELSEWHERE.

Five months later, a few days shy of what would have been Barbara’s seventieth birthday, Kerry and Dirk welcomed Lauren Barbara Cussler into the world. “We both marvel,” Dirk says, “how much she looks like Barbara.”