Kitabı oku: «On a Snowy Night: The Christmas Basket / The Snow Bride»

To

Mr and Mrs Dale Macomber

(my son and Laurie)

Merry Christmas

Your first as husband and wife

NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL

December 1

I did it. I broke down and actually booked the flight to Rose. I have a ticket for December 18—Dallas to San Francisco to Portland and then the commuter flight to Rose.

All my excuses are used up. I always figured there was no going back, and yet that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m going home when I swore I never would. Not after what happened…Not after Thom Sutton betrayed me. I know, I know, I’ve always been dramatic. I can’t help that—it’s part of my nature.

When I was a teenager I made this vow never to return. I spoke it in the heat of passion, and no one believed me. For that matter, I didn’t believe me, not really. But it proved to be so easy to stay away…. I hardly had to invent excuses. While I was in college I had an opportunity to travel to Europe two years in a row. Then in my junior year I had a summer job and was a bridesmaid in a Christmas wedding. And when my senior year rolled around, I was working as an intern for the software company, and it was impossible to get time off. After that…well, it was just simpler to stay away. Without meaning to, my family made it convenient. I didn’t need to visit them; they seemed willing enough to come to Dallas.

All of that is about to end. I’m prepared to face my past. I joined Weight Watchers. If I happen to see Thom Sutton, I want him to know exactly what he’s missing. I’ve already lost five of the ten pounds I need to get rid of, and by next week he’ll hardly recognize me—if we even run into each other. We won’t, of course, but just on the off chance, I plan to be prepared.

Good ol’ Thom Sutton. I wonder what he’s doing now. Naturally I could ask, but no one dares mention the name Sutton to my family. It’s the Hatfields and McCoys or the Montagues and Capulets all over again. Except that it’s our mothers who started this ridiculous feud.

If I really wanted to know about Thom, I could ask Megan or Stephanie. They’re the only two girls out of my entire high school class who still live in Rose. But I wouldn’t do that. Inquiring about Thom would only invite questions from them about what happened between the two of us. As far as I’m concerned, the fewer people who know, the better.

He’s bound to be married, anyway. Good. I want him to be happy.

No, I don’t.

If I can’t be honest in my journal, then I shouldn’t keep one. Okay, I admit it—what I really want is for him to have suffered guilt and regret all these years. He should have pined for me. His life should be a bleak series of endless days filled with haunting memories of me. It’s what he deserves.

On a brighter note, I’m thrilled for Kristen. I’ll return home, help her plan her wedding, hold my head high and pray that Thom Sutton has the opportunity to see me from afar, gorgeous and thin. Then I want him to agonize over all the might-have-beens.

One

It would be the wedding of the year. No—the wedding of the century.

Sarah McDowell intended to create the most exquisite event possible, a wedding worthy of Vogue magazine (or at least a two-page spread in the Rose, Oregon, Gazette). The entire town would talk about her daughter’s wedding.

The foundation for Sarah’s plans rested squarely on booking the Women’s Century Club for the reception. It was why she’d maintained her association with the club after that woman had been granted membership. She was outraged that such a fine institution would lower itself to welcome the likes of Mary Sutton.

Sarah refused to dwell on the sordid details. She couldn’t allow herself to get upset over something that had happened almost twenty years ago. Although it didn’t hurt any to imagine Mary hearing—second-or third-hand, of course—about Kristen’s wedding. As Sarah understood it, Mary’s daughter had eloped. Eloped, mind you, with some riffraff hazelnut farmer. Sarah didn’t know that for sure because it was her Christian duty not to gossip or think ill of others. However, sometimes information just happened to come one’s way….

Pulling into the parking lot of the Women’s Century Club, Sarah surveyed the grounds. Even this late in the year, the rose garden was breathtaking. Many of the carefully tended bushes still wore their blooms, and next June, when the wedding was scheduled, the garden would be stunning. The antique roses with their intoxicating scents and the more recent hybrids with their gorgeous shapes and colors would make a fitting backdrop for the beautiful bride and her handsome groom. It would be perfect, she thought with satisfaction. Absolutely perfect.

Sarah had stopped attending the Women’s Century Club meetings three years ago. Well, there wasn’t any need to obsess over the membership committee’s sorry lapse in judgment. For many years Sarah had chaired that committee herself. The instant she stepped down, Mary Sutton had applied for membership to the prestigious club—and received it. Now the only social event Sarah participated in was the annual Christmas Dance. Mary Sutton had robbed her of so much already, but Sarah wasn’t letting her ruin that, too.

Sarah did continue to meet with other friends from the club and managed to keep up with the news. She understood that Mary had become quite active in the association. Fine. Good for her. It gave the woman something to write about in her column for the weekly Rose Gazette. Not that Sarah read “About Town.” Someone had told her it was fairly popular, though. Which didn’t bother her in the least. Mary was a good writer; Sarah would acknowledge that much. But then, what one lacked in certain areas was often compensated in others. And Mary was definitely lacking in the areas of generosity, fairness, ethics…. She could go on.

With a click of her key chain, Sarah locked her car and headed toward the large, two-story stone structure. There was a cold wind blowing in from the ocean, and she hurried up the steps of the large veranda that surrounded the house. A blast of warm air greeted her as she walked inside. Immediately in front of her was the curved stairway leading to the ballroom on the second floor. She could already picture Kristen moving elegantly down those stairs, her dress sweeping grandly behind her. Today, evergreen garlands were hung along the mahogany railing, with huge red velvet bows tied at regular intervals. Gigantic potted poinsettias lined both sides of the stairway. The effect was both festive and tasteful.

“Oh, how lovely,” she said to Melody Darrington, the club’s longtime secretary.

“Yes, we’re very pleased with this year’s Christmas decorations.” Melody glanced up from her desk behind the half wall that overlooked the entry. The door to the office was open and Sarah heard the fax machine humming behind her. “Are you here to pick up your tickets for the Christmas dance?”

“I am,” Sarah confirmed. “And I’d like to book the club for June seventh for a reception.” She paused dramatically. “Kristen’s getting married.”

“Sarah, that’s just wonderful!”

“Yes, Jake and I are pleased.” This seriously understated her emotions. Kristen was the first of her three daughters to marry, and Sarah felt as if the wedding was the culmination of all her years as a caring, involved mother. She highly approved of Kristen’s fiancé. Jonathan Clark was not only a charming and considerate young man, he held a promising position at an investment firm and had a degree in business. His parents were college professors who lived in Eugene; he was their only son. Whenever she’d spoken with Jonathan’s mother, Louise Clark had sounded equally delighted.

Melody flipped the pages of the appointment book to June. “It’s a good idea to book the club early.”

Holding her breath, Sarah leaned over the half wall and stared down at the schedule. She relaxed the instant she saw that particular Saturday was free. The wedding date could remain unchanged.

“It looks like June seventh is open,” Melody said.

“Fabulous.” Sarah’s cell phone rang, and she reached inside her purse to retrieve it. She sold real estate, but since entering her fifties, she’d scaled back her hours on the job. Jake, who was head of the X-ray department at Rose Hospital, enjoyed traveling. Sarah no longer had the energy to accompany Jake and also maintain her status as a top-selling agent. The number displayed on her phone was that of her husband’s office. She’d call him back shortly. He was probably asking about the time of their eldest daughter’s flight. Jake and Sarah were going to meet Noelle at the small commuter airport later in the day. What a joy it would be to have all three of their girls home for Christmas, not to mention Noelle’s birthday, which was December twenty-fifth. This would be the first time in ten years that Noelle had returned to celebrate anything with her family. Sarah blamed Mary Sutton and her son for that, too.

“Should I give you a deposit now?” she asked, removing her checkbook.

“Since you’re a member of the club, that won’t be necessary.”

“Great. Then that’s settled and I can get busy with my day. I’ve got a couple of houses to show. Plus Jake and I are driving to the airport this afternoon to pick up Noelle. You remember our daughter Noelle, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“She’s living in Dallas these days, and has a high-powered job with one of the big computer companies.” What Sarah didn’t add was the Noelle had become a workaholic. Getting her twenty-eight-year-old daughter to take time off work was nearly impossible. Sarah and Jake made a point of visiting her once a year and sometimes twice, but this couldn’t go on. Noelle had to get over her phobia about returning to Rose—and the risk of seeing Thom Sutton. Oh, yes, those Suttons had done a lot of damage to the McDowells.

With Kristen announcing her engagement and inviting the Clarks to share their Christmas festivities, Sarah had strongly urged Noelle to come home for the celebration. This was an important year for their family, and it was absolutely necessary that Noelle be there with them. After some back-and-forth discussion, she’d finally capitulated.

“Before you leave, there’s something you should know,” Melody said hesitantly. “There’s been a rule change about members using the building.”

“Yes?” Sarah tensed, anticipating a roadblock.

“The new rule states that only members who have completed a minimum of ten hours’ community service approved by the club will be permitted to lease our facilities.”

“But I’m an active part of our community already,” Sarah complained. She provided plenty of services to others.

“I realize that. Unfortunately, the service project in question must be determined by the club and it must be completed by the end of December to qualify for the following year.”

Sarah gaped at her. “Do you mean to say that in addition to everything else I’m doing in the next two weeks, I have to complete some club project?”

“You haven’t been reading the newsletters, have you?” Melody asked, frowning.

Obviously not. Sarah refused to read about Mary Sutton, whose name seemed to appear in every issue these days.

“If you attended the meetings, you’d know it, too.” Melody added insult to injury by pointing out Sarah’s intentional absence.

Despite her irritation, Sarah managed a weak smile. “All right,” she muttered. “What can I do?”

“Actually, you’ve come at an opportune moment. We need someone who’s willing to pitch in on the Christmas baskets.”

Sarah was trying to figure out how she could squeeze in one more task before the holidays. “Exactly what would that entail?”

“Oh, it’ll be great fun. The ladies pooled the money they raised from the cookbook sale to buy gifts for these baskets. They’ve made up lists, and what you’d need to do is get everything on your list, arrange all the stuff inside the baskets and then deliver them to the Salvation Army by December twenty-third.”

That didn’t sound unreasonable. “I think I can do that.”

“Wonderful.” A smile lit up Melody’s face. “The woman who’s heading up the project will be grateful for some help.”

“The woman?” That sounded better already. At least she wouldn’t be stuck doing this alone.

“Mary Sutton.”

Sarah felt as though Melody had punched her. “Excuse me. For a moment I thought you said Mary Sutton.”

“I did.”

“I don’t mean to be catty here, but Mary and I have…a history.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work something out. You’re both adults.”

Sarah was stunned by the woman’s lack of sensitivity. She wanted to argue, to explain that this was unacceptable, but she couldn’t think of exactly what to say.

“You did want the club for June seventh, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course, but—”

“Then be here tomorrow morning at ten to meet with Mary.”

Numb and speechless, Sarah slowly turned and trudged toward the door.

“Sarah,” Melody called. “Don’t forget the dance tickets.”

Dance. How could she think about the dance when she was being forced to confront a woman who detested her? The feeling might be mutual but that didn’t make it any less awkward.

One across. A four-letter word for fragrant flower. Rose, naturally. Noelle McDowell penciled in the answer and moved to the next clue. A prickly feeling crawled up her spine and she raised her head. She disliked the short commuter flights. This one, out of Portland, carried twenty-four passengers. It saved having to rent a vehicle or asking her parents to make the long drive into the big city to pick her up.

The feeling persisted and she glanced over her shoulder. She instantly jerked back and slid down in her seat as far as the constraints of the seat belt allowed. It couldn’t be. No, please, she muttered, closing her eyes. Not Thom. Not after all these years. Not now. But it was, it had to be. No one else would look at her with such complete, unadulterated antagonism. He had some nerve after what he’d done to her.

Long before she was ready, the pilot announced that the plane was preparing to land in Rose. On these flights, no carry-on bags were permitted, and Noelle hadn’t taken anything more than her purse on board. Her magazines would normally go in her briefcase, but that didn’t fit in the compact space beneath her seat, so the flight attendant had stowed it. She had a Weight Watchers magazine and a crossword puzzle book marked EASY in large letters across the top. She wasn’t going to let Thom see her with either and stuffed them in the outside pocket of her purse, folding one magazine over the other.

Her pulse thundered like crazy. The man who’d broken her heart sat only two rows behind her, looking as sophisticated as if he’d stepped off the pages of GQ. He’d always been tall, dark and handsome—like a twenty-first century Cary Grant. Classic features that were just rugged enough to be interesting and very, very masculine. Dark eyes, glossy dark hair. An impeccable sense of style. Surely he was married. But finding out would mean asking her sister or one of her friends who still lived in Rose. Coward that she was, Noelle didn’t want to know. Okay, she did, but not if it meant having to ask.

The plane touched down and Noelle braced herself against the jolt of the wheels bouncing on tarmac. As soon as they’d coasted to a stop, the Unfasten Seat Belt sign went off, and the people around her instantly leaped to their feet. Noelle took her time. Her hair was a fright. Up at three that morning to catch the 6:00 a.m. out of Dallas/Ft. Worth, she’d run a brush through the dark tangles, forgoing the usual routine of fussing with mousse. As a result, large ringlets fell like bedsprings about her face. Normally, her hair was shaped and controlled and coerced into gentle waves. But today she had the misfortune of looking like Shirley Temple in one of her 1930s movies—and in front of Thom Sutton, no less.

When it was her turn to leave her seat, she stood, looking staunchly ahead. If luck was with her, she could slip away unnoticed and pretend she hadn’t seen him. Luck, however, was on vacation and the instant she stepped into the aisle, the handle of her purse caught on the seat arm. Both magazines popped out of the outside pocket and flew into the air, only to be caught by none other than Thom Sutton. The crossword puzzle magazine tumbled to the floor and he was left holding the Weight Watchers December issue. As his gaze slid over her, she immediately sucked in her stomach.

“I read it for the fiction,” she announced, then added, “Don’t I know you?” She tried to sound indifferent—and to look thin. “It’s Tim, isn’t it?” she asked, frowning as though she couldn’t quite place him.

“Thom,” he corrected. “Good to see you again, Nadine.”

“Noelle,” she said bitterly.

He glared at her until someone from the back of the line called, “Would you two mind having your reunion when you get off the plane?”

“Sorry,” Thom said over his shoulder.

“I barely know this man.” Noelle wanted her fellow passengers to hear the truth. “I once thought I did, but I was wrong,” she explained, walking backward toward the exit.

“Whatever,” the guy behind them said loudly.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Thom said. His eyes were as dark and cold as those of the snowman they’d built in Lions’ Park their senior year of high school—like glittering chips of coal.

“You have your nerve,” she muttered, whirling around just in time to avoid crashing into the open cockpit. She smiled sweetly at the pilot. “Thank you for a most pleasant flight.”

He returned the smile. “I hope you’ll fly with us again.”

“I will.”

“Good to see you, Thom,” the pilot said next.

Placing her hand on the railing of the steep stairs that led to the ground, Noelle did her best to keep her head high, her shoulders square—and her eyes front. The last thing she wanted to do was trip and make an even worse fool of herself by falling flat on her face.

She was shocked by a blast of cold air. After living in Texas for the last ten years, she’d forgotten how cold it could get in the Pacific Northwest. Her thin cashmere wrap was completely inadequate.

“One would think you’d know better than to wear a sweater here in December,” Thom said, coming down the steps directly behind her.

“I forgot.”

“If you came home more often, you’d have remembered.”

“You keep track of my visits?” She scowled at him. A thick strand of curly hair slapped her in the face and she tossed it back with a jerk of her head. Unfortunately she nearly put out her neck in the process.

“No, I don’t keep track of your visits. Frankly, I couldn’t care less.”

“That’s fine by me.” Having the last word was important, no matter how inane it was.

The luggage cart came around and she grabbed her briefcase from the top and made for the interior of the small airport. Her flight had landed early, which meant that her parents probably hadn’t arrived yet. At least her luck was consistent—all bad. One thing was certain: the instant Thom caught sight of her mother and father, he’d make himself scarce.

He removed his own briefcase and started into the terminal less than two feet behind her. Because of his long legs, he quickly outdistanced her. Refusing to let him pass her, Noelle hurried ahead, practically trotting.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little silly?” he asked.

“About what?” She blinked, hoping to convey a look of innocence.

“Never mind.” He smiled, which infuriated her further.

“No, I’m serious,” she insisted. “What do you mean?”

He simply shook his head and turned toward the baggage claim area. They were the first passengers to get there. Noelle stood on one side of the conveyor belt and Thom on the other. He ignored her and she tried to pretend he’d never been born.

That proved to be impossible because ten years ago Thom Sutton had ripped her heart right out.

For most of their senior year of high school, Thom and Noelle had been in love; they’d also managed to hide that fact from their parents. Sneaking out of her room at night, meeting him after school and passing notes to each other had worked quite effectively.

Then they’d argued about their mothers and the ongoing feud between Sarah and Mary. They’d soon made up, however, realizing that what really mattered was their love. Because they were both eighteen and legally entitled to marry without parental consent, they’d decided to elope. It’d been Thom’s suggestion. According to him, it was the only way they could get married, since the parents on both sides would oppose their wishes and try to put obstacles in their path. But once they were married, he said, they could bring their families together.

Noelle felt mortified now to remember how much she’d trusted Thom. But their whole “engagement” had turned out to be a ploy to humiliate and embarrass her. It seemed Thom was his mother’s son, after all.

She’d been proud of her love for Thom, and before she left to meet him that fateful evening, she’d boldly announced her intentions to her family. Her stomach twisted at the memory. Her parents were shocked as well as appalled; she and Thom had kept their secret well. Her mother had burst into tears, her father had shouted and her two younger sisters had wailed in protest. Undeterred, Noelle had marched out the door, suitcase in hand, to meet the man she loved. The man she’d defied her family to marry. Except that he didn’t show up.

At first she’d assumed it was a misunderstanding—that she’d mistaken the agreed-upon time. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she’d phoned his house and asked to speak to him, only to learn that Thom had gone bowling.

He’d gone bowling? Apparently some friends from school had phoned and off he’d gone, leaving her to wait in doubt and misery. The parking lot at the bowling alley confirmed his father’s words. There was Thom’s car—and inside the Bowlerama was Thom, carousing with his friends. Noelle had peered through the window and seen the waitress sitting on his lap and the other guys gathered around, joking and teasing. Before she went home, Noelle had placed a nasty note on his windshield, in which she described him as a scum-of-the-earth bastard. Their supposed elopement, their so-called love had all been a fraud, a cruel joke. She figured it was revenge what for her mother had done, losing Thom’s grandmother’s precious tea service. Not losing it, actually. She’d borrowed it to display at an open house for another real estate agent—and someone had taken it. That was how the feud started and it had escalated steadily after that.

To make matters worse, she’d had to return home in humiliation and admit that Thom had stood her up. Like the heroine of an old-fashioned melodrama, she’d been jilted, abandoned and forsaken.

For days she’d moped around the house, weeping and miserable. Thom hadn’t phoned or contacted her again. It was difficult to believe he could be so heartless, but she had all the evidence she needed. She hadn’t seen or talked to him since. For ten years she’d avoided returning to the scene of her shame.

The grinding sound of the conveyor belt gearing up broke Noelle from her reverie. Luggage started to roll out from the black hole behind the rubber curtain. Thom stepped forward, in a hurry to claim his suitcase and leave, or so it seemed. Noelle was no less eager to escape. She’d rather wait in the damp cold outside the terminal than stand five feet across from Thomas Sutton.

The very attractive Thomas Sutton. Even better-looking than he’d been ten years ago. Life just wasn’t fair.

“I would’ve thought your wife would be here to pick you up,” she said without looking at him. She shouldn’t have spoken at all, but suddenly she had to know.

“Is that your unsubtle way of asking if I’m married?”

She ground her teeth. “Stood up any other girls in the last ten years?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do it, Noelle.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t have done it.”

The man from the back of the plane waltzed past Noelle and reached for his suitcase. “Why don’t you two just kiss and make up,” he suggested, winking at Thom.

“I don’t think so,” Noelle said, sending Thom a contemptuous glare. She was astonished to see his anger, as though he had something to be angry about. She was the injured party here.

“On that I’ll agree with you,” Thom said. He caught hold of a suitcase and yanked it off the belt with enough force to topple a second suitcase. Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.

No sooner had he disappeared than the glass doors opened and in walked Noelle’s parents.

Noelle’s youngest sister held a special place in her heart. Carley Sue was an unexpected surprise, born when Noelle was fifteen and Kristen twelve. She’d only been three when Noelle left for college. Nevertheless, all three sisters remained close. Or as close as email, phone calls and the occasional visit to Dallas allowed.

Sitting on Noelle’s bed, Carley rested her chin on one hand as Noelle unpacked her suitcase. “You don’t mind that I have your old room, do you?” she asked anxiously.

“Heavens, no. It’s only right that you do.”

Some of the worry disappeared from Carley’s eyes. “Are you really going to be home for two whole weeks?”

“I am.” Noelle had tentatively planned a discounted cruise with a couple of friends. Instead, she was vacationing with her parents, planning her sister’s wedding and trying not to think about Thom Sutton.

“You’re going to the Christmas dance, aren’t you?”

“Not if I can get out of it.” Her mother was the one who insisted on these social outings, but Noelle would live the rest of her life content if she never attended another dance. They reminded her to much of those long-ago evenings with Thom… .

“Mom says you’re going.”

Noelle sat down on the end of the bed and sighed. “I’ll tell her I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Don’t do that,” Carley advised. “She’ll buy you a pink dress. Mom loves pink. Not just any old pink, either, but something that looks exactly like Pepto-Bismol. She actually wanted Kristen to choose pink for her wedding colors.” She grimaced. Reaching down for her feet, Carley curled her fingers over her bare toes and nodded vigorously. “You’d better come to the dance.”

This was one of the reasons Noelle found excuse after excuse to stay away from Rose. Admittedly it wasn’t the primary reason—Thom Sutton and his mother were responsible for that. But as much as she loved her family, she dreaded being dragged from one social event to the next. She could see her mother putting her on display—in Pepto-Bismol pink, according to Carley. If that wasn’t bad enough, Sarah had an embarrassing tendency to speak as though Noelle wasn’t in the room, bragging outrageously over every little accomplishment.

“Hey, you want to go to the movies tomorrow?” Noelle asked her sister.

Carley’s eyes brightened. “Sure! I was hoping we’d get to do things together.”

The doorbell chimed and Carley rolled onto her stomach. “That’s Kristen. She’s coming over without Jonathan tonight.”

“You like Jonathan?” Noelle asked.

“Yeah.” Carley grinned happily. “He danced with me once and no one asked him to or anything.”

This was encouraging. Maybe he’d dance with her, too.

“Noelle!” Kristen called from the far end of the hallway. She burst into the room, full of energy and spirit. Instantly Noelle was wrapped in a tight embrace. “I can’t believe you’re here—oh sis, it’s so good to see you.”

Noelle hugged her back. She missed the chats they used to have; discussions over the phone just weren’t the same as hugs and smiles. “Guess who I ran into on the plane?” Noelle had been dying to talk about the chance encounter with Thom.

Some of the excitement faded from Kristen’s eyes. “Don’t tell me. Thom Sutton?”

Noelle nodded.

“Who’s Thom Sutton?” Carley asked, glancing from one sister to the other.

“A guy I once dated.”

“Were you lovers?”

“Carley!”

“Just curious.” She shrugged as if this was information she was somehow entitled to.

“Where?” Kristen demanded.

“He was on the same flight as me.”

“He still lives here, you know. He’s some kind of executive for a mail-order company that’s really taken off in the last few years. Apparently he does a lot of traveling.”

“How’d you know that?” They’d always avoided the topic of Thom Sutton in their telephone and email communications.

“Jon told me about him. I think Thom might be one of his clients.”

“Oh.” Not only was Thom Sutton gorgeous, he was successful, too. “I suppose he’s engaged to someone stunningly beautiful.” That was to be expected.

“I hear—again from Jon—that he dates quite a bit, but there’s no one serious.”

Noelle shouldn’t be pleased, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to examine that reaction too closely.

“I want to know what happened,” Carley demanded, rising to her knees. “I’m not a kid anymore. Tell me!”

“He was Noelle’s high school sweetheart,” Kirsten explained.

“The guy who left you at the altar?”

“Who told you that?” Noelle asked, although the answer was obvious. “And he didn’t leave me at the altar.” Just being accurate, she told herself. I’m not defending him.

“Mom told me ’cause she wants me to keep away from those Suttons. When I asked her why, she said you learned your lesson the hard way. She said a Sutton broke your heart and jilted you.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Kristen told her.

“I want to know everything,” Carley pleaded. “How can I hate them if I don’t know what they did that was so awful?”

“You shouldn’t hate anyone.”

“I don’t, not really, but if our family doesn’t like their family, then I should know why.”

“It’s a long story.”

Carley sat back on her heels. “That’s what Mom said.”

“God help me,” Kristen murmured, covering her eyes with one hand. “Don’t tell me I already sound like Mom. I didn’t think this would happen until I turned thirty.”

Noelle laughed, although she wasn’t sure how funny it was, since she herself was only days from her twenty-ninth birthday.

“Did you love him terribly?” Carley asked with a faraway look in her eyes.

Noelle wasn’t sure how to respond. She felt a distant and remembered pain but refused to let it take hold. “I thought I did.”

“It was wildly romantic,” Kristen added. “They were madly in love, but then they had a falling-out—”

“That’s one way to put it,” Noelle said, interrupting her sister. Thom had apparently fallen out of love with her. He’d certainly fallen out of their plans to elope.

“This is all so sad,” Carley said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Our parents not getting along is what started this in the first place.”

“At least you and Thom didn’t kill yourselves, like Romeo and Juliet—”

“No.” Noelle shook her head. “I’ve always been the sane, sensible sister. Remember?” But even as she spoke, she recognized her words for the lie they were. Staying away for ten years was a pretty extreme and hardly “sensible” reaction. Even she knew that. The fact was, though, something that had begun as a protest had simply become habit.

“Oh, sure,” Kristen teased. “Very sensible. You work too hard, you don’t date nearly enough and you avoid Rose as though we’ve got an epidemic of the plague.”

“Guilty, guilty, not guilty.” She wasn’t purposely avoiding Rose, she told herself, at least not anymore and not to the extent that Kristen implied. Noelle’s job was demanding and it was difficult to take off four or five days in a row.

“I’ve never met Thom, and already I don’t like him,” Carley announced. “Anyone who broke your heart is a dweeb. Besides, if he married you the way he said he would, you’d be living in Rose now and I could see you anytime I wanted.”

“Well put, little sister,” Kristen said. She shrugged off her coat, then joined Carley at the foot of the bed.

Noelle smiled at her two sisters and realized with a pang how much she missed them. Back in Texas it was all too easy to let work consume her life—to relegate these important relationships to fifteen-minute conversations on the phone.

“Look,” Kristen said and stretched out her arm so Noelle could see her engagement ring. It was a solitaire diamond, virtually flawless, in a classic setting. A perfect choice for Kristen. “Jon and I shopped for weeks. He wanted the highest-quality stone for the best price.” Her eyes softened as she studied the ring.

“It’s beautiful,” Noelle whispered, overcome for a moment by the sheer joy she saw in her sister’s face.

“You’ll be my maid of honor, won’t you?”

“As long as I don’t have to wear a dress the color of Pepto-Bismol.”

“You’re safe on that account.”

“If you ask me to be the flower girl, I think I’ll scream,” Carley muttered. “Why won’t anyone believe me when I tell them I’m not a little kid anymore? I’m almost fourteen!”

“Not for ten months,” Noelle reminded her.

“But, I’m going to be fourteen.”

Kristen brushed the hair away from Carley’s face. “Actually, I intended to ask you to be a bridesmaid.”

“You did?” Carley shrieked with happiness. “Well, then, I’ll tell you what I overheard Mom tell Dad.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she detailed a conversation between their parents regarding Christmas baskets.

“Mom’s meeting with Mrs. Sutton tomorrow morning?” Noelle repeated incredulously.

“That’s what she said. She didn’t sound happy about it, either.”

“I’ll just bet she didn’t.”

“This should be interesting,” Kristen murmured.

Yes, it should, Noelle silently agreed. It should be very interesting, indeed.

NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL

December 19

(2:00 a.m.)

So I saw him before I even got back to town. Of all the flights I could’ve taken…

Seeing Thom after all these years was probably the most humbling experience of my life, except for the last time I was with him. Correction. Wasn’t with him. Why did this have to happen to me? Or did I bring it on myself because of my obsession over seeing him again?

Okay, the thing to do is look at the positive aspect of this. It’s over. I saw him, it was worse than I could have imagined, but now I don’t need to worry about it anymore. Thom made it clear that he wasn’t any happier to see me than I was about running into him. At least the feeling’s mutual. Although I’m kind of confused by that, since I’m the offended one. He jilted me. Unfortunately, after this latest run-in, he doesn’t have any reason to regret that. I behaved like an idiot.

On a brighter note—and I’m always looking for brighter notes!—it’s good to be home. I shouldn’t have stayed away for ten years. That was foolish and I’m sorry about it. I walked all through the house, stopping in each room. After a while, I got all teary as I looked around. Nothing’s really changed and yet everything’s different. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed my home. Mom’s got the house all decorated for Christmas, including those funny-looking cotton-ball snowmen I made at camp a thousand years ago. When I commented on that, she told me it was tradition. She puts them out every Christmas. She got all choked up and I did, too. We hugged, and I promised I’d never stay away this long again. And I won’t.

Carley Sue (she hates it when I use her middle name) is so much fun. Seeing her here, in her own space (even if it is my old room), is like discovering an entirely different side of her. She’s freer, more relaxed, and so eager to share the camaraderie between me and Kristen.

Speaking of Kristen—she’s on cloud nine. We sat up and talked for hours, and she told me all about meeting and falling in love with Jonathan. I’d heard it before, but the story felt brand-new as I listened to her tell it in person. It’s so romantic, meeting her future husband in a flower shop when he’s there to pick up a dozen red roses for another woman. I give him credit, though; Jonathan knew a real flower when he saw one. It was Kristen who walked out with those roses.

Carley warned me that Mom’s going to be looking for company when she has to meet Mrs. Sutton in the morning. We’ve already thwarted her. We sisters have our ways….

Two

Sarah would have preferred a root canal to meeting with Mary Sutton. A root canal without anaesthetic.

Her husband lingered over his morning coffee before leaving for the hospital. “You’re really stressed about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Sarah wasn’t afraid to admit it. “The last time I spoke to Mary was the day she wrote that dreadful article about me in her column.”

“You think that article was only about you,” Jake said. “But it could’ve been about any real estate agent. Maybe even a bunch of different ones.” His voice drifted off.

Sarah didn’t understand why her husband was arguing when they both knew the entire dreadful piece titled The Nightmare Real Estate Agent, was directed solely at her. Although she hadn’t committed any of sins Mary had described, she’d been guilty of the one crime Mary hadn’t mentioned. Never once had she misrepresented a home or hidden a defect. Nor had she ever low-balled a client. But Sarah had borrowed something she couldn’t return.

“Was that before or after you planted the OPEN HOUSE sign in her front yard?” Jake asked.

“Before, and she deserved it.”

Her husband chuckled. “Go on, meet with her and don’t for a moment let her know you’re upset.”

“You sound like a commercial for deodorant.”

“Yes, dear.” He kissed her cheek and headed out the door to work.

Tightening the belt of her housecoat, Sarah gazed out the front window as he drove away. Meet with her… Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one coming face-to-face with Mary after all these years.

Yawning, Noelle wandered into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Sarah’s spirits lifted immediately. It was so good to have her daughter home—and even better that she’d arrived at such an opportune moment. Noelle could act as a buffer between her and that demented newspaper writer who’d once been her friend. True, there was the business with the Sutton boy, but if nothing else, that unfortunate bit of history would distract them all from this current awkwardness. She felt a twinge of guilt at the idea of involving her daughter. Still, she needed reinforcements, and surely Noelle was long over her infatuation with Thom.

“Good morning, dear,” Sarah said, mustering a cheerful greeting. “I was wondering if you’d like to come with me this morning.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the plea out of her voice.

Her daughter leaned against the kitchen counter, holding the mug with both hands. “I promised to take Carley shopping and to the movies.”

“Oh. That won’t be until later, will it?”

“Mom,” Noelle said, sighing loudly. “I’m not going to let you use me as a buffer when you meet Mrs. Sutton.”

“Who told you I was meeting…” She didn’t bother to finish the question, since the answer was obvious. Jake! Dumping the rest of her coffee down the sink, she reluctantly went to her room to dress. She’d be entering the lion’s den alone, so she wanted to look her best.

“I don’t think she’s nearly the monster you make her out to be,” Noelle called after her.

That her own daughter, her oldest child—the very one who’d been jilted by Thom Sutton—could say such a thing was beyond Sarah. As far as she was concerned, there was too much forgiveness going on here. And if Noelle thought Mary was so wonderful, then she should be willing to come along.

Didn’t Noelle grasp the unpleasantness of this situation? Clearly not. Even Jake didn’t take it seriously. He seemed to think this was some kind of joke! Well, she, for one, wasn’t laughing.

Despite her bad feelings about the meeting with Mary Sutton, Sarah arrived at the Women’s Century Club twenty minutes early. This was the way she’d planned it. As she recalled, Mary possessed a number of irritating habits, one of which was an inability to ever show up on time. Therefore, Sarah considered it advantageous to be early, as though that would highlight Mary’s lack of responsibility and basic courtesy.

“Good morning, Melody,” she said as she stepped briskly into the entry.

“Morning,” came Melody’s reply. The phone rang just then, and she reached for it, still standing in front of the copy machine.

While she waited, Sarah checked her appearance in the lobby restroom. She’d taken an inordinate amount of time with her makeup that morning. Her hair was impeccably styled, if she did say so herself, and her clothes looked both businesslike and feminine. Choosing the right outfit was of the utmost importance; in the end, after three complete changes, she’d chosen navy-blue wool slacks, a white cashmere sweater and a silk scarf with a pattern of holly and red berries.

Melody finished with the phone. “Sorry, it’s crazy around here this morning. Everyone’s getting ready for the dance.”

Of course. In her dread, she’d nearly forgotten about the annual dance.

The door opened, and with a dramatic flair—all swirling scarves and large gestures—Mary Sutton entered the building. Did the woman think she was on stage, for heaven’s sake? “Hello Melody,” she said, her voice light and breezy. Then—as if she’d only now noticed Sarah—she turned in her direction, frowned slightly and then acknowledged her with a curt nod.

“Good to see you, too,” Sarah muttered.

“I’m here for the list. The Christmas basket list,” Mary said, walking over to the half wall behind which Melody stood.

“That’s why I’m here,” Sarah said and forced herself into the space between Mary and the wall.

The two jockeyed for position, elbowing each other until Melody stared at them aghast. “What’s wrong with you two?” she asked.

“As I explained earlier, we have a history,” Sarah said, as though that should account for everything.

“A very long and difficult history,” Mary added.

“You’ll have to work together on this.” Melody frowned at them both. “I’d hate to see these needy families deprived because you two can’t get along.” The phone rang again and Melody scooped up the receiver.

“You’re impossible to work with,” Mary said, practically shoving Sarah aside.

“I won’t stand here and be insulted by the likes of you,” Sarah insisted. Talk about impossible!

“This isn’t going to work.”

“You’re telling me!” She was ready to walk out the door. But then she realized that was exactly what Mary wanted her to do. She’d been provoking Sarah from the moment she’d made that stagy entrance. This was a low, underhanded attempt to prevent her from holding Kristen’s wedding reception at the club. Somehow Mary had found out about the wedding and hoped to thwart the McDowells’ plans. That had to be it. But Sarah refused to let a Sutton—especially this Sutton—manipulate her.

“There are ways of doing what needs to be done without tripping over each other’s feet,” Sarah murmured, trying to sound conciliatory. She could only hope that Kristen truly appreciated the sacrifice she was making on her behalf. If it wasn’t for the wedding, she wouldn’t be caught dead working on a project with Mary Sutton, charity or not!

“What do you mean?”

“There must be a way.” She personally didn’t have any ideas, but perhaps the club secretary could think of something. “Melody?”

Another line rang, and Melody put the first caller on hold in order to answer the second. She placed her palm over the mouthpiece and said, “Why don’t you two go talk this out in the lobby?” She waved them impatiently away. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

Sarah took a few steps back, unwilling to voluntarily give up hard-won territory. This was more of a problem than she’d expected. For her part, she was willing to make the best of it, but she could already tell that Mary had her own agenda.

“The Christmas decorations are lovely this year, aren’t they?” Sarah said, making an effort to start again. After all, she was stuck with the woman.

“Yes,” came Mary’s stilted reply. “I’m the chair of the decorating committee.”

“Oh.” She studied the staircase again and noticed a number of flaws apparent on closer inspection. Walking to the bottom step, she straightened a bow.

“Leave my bows alone!”

“A little possessive, are we?” Sarah murmured.

“You would be, too, if you’d spent twenty minutes making each of those velvet bows.”

“I could have done it in ten.”

“Next year, I’ll let you.” Then, as if she was bored with the subject, Mary said, “I understand Noelle’s in town.”

“Yes, and I’d appreciate if you’d keep your son away from her.”

“My son!” Mary cried. “You don’t need to worry about that. Thom learned his lesson as far as your daughter’s concerned a long time ago.”

“On the contrary, I believe your son broke my daughter’s heart.”

“Ladies!” Melody came out from behind the counter, shaking her head. “I thought we were discussing ways you two can work together to fill those Christmas baskets.”

“I don’t think I can work with her,” Mary said, crossing her arms. She presented Sarah with a view of her back.

“Then divide the list,” Melody suggested. “One of you can shop for the gifts and the other can buy the groceries. Arrange a day to meet and assemble the baskets, and then you’ll be done with it.”

Sarah didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that earlier. It made perfect sense and would allow them to maintain a healthy distance from each other.

“Divide the list,” Mary instructed with a dramatic wave of her hand.

“By all means, divide the list,” Sarah said and mimicked Mary’s gesture.

“All right,” Melody said. She went back to her office, with the two women following, and slipped the list into the photocopier. The phone rang again, and she answered it, holding the receiver between her shoulder and ear. Melody retrieved the original and the copy, reached for the scissors and cut both lists in two. Still talking, she dropped the papers, then picked them up and handed half of the original list to Mary and half to Sarah. The copies of each woman’s list went into a file on her desk.

Sarah glanced over her list and tucked it inside her purse. “When do you suggest we meet to assemble the baskets?”

“The twenty-third before noon. That way, we’ll be able to drop them off at the Salvation Army in plenty of time. They’ll distribute the baskets on Christmas Eve.”

“Fine.” That settled, Sarah charged out the door without a backward glance. This wasn’t the best solution, but it was manageable. She’d do her share of the work, and she wasn’t about to let anyone suggest otherwise.

“This is so cool,” Carley said as they left the mall late Thursday afternoon, their arms loaded with bags and packages. Noelle smiled fondly at her youngest sister. That summer, Carley had spent two weeks with her in Texas while their parents were on a cruise. She’d matured noticeably in the six months since then.

“Mom’s not selling much real estate anymore,” her sister told her as they climbed into the car. “I think she’s bored with it, but she won’t admit it.”

“Really?”

“She’s totally involved in Kristen’s wedding. It’s all she thinks about. She’s read a whole bunch of books and magazine articles and has everything set in her mind. Just the other day, she said that what this town really needs is a wedding planner.”

“And you think Mom would enjoy that?”

“Are you kidding?” Carley said. “She’d love it.”

Their mother was extremely sociable, which was one of the reasons she was such a successful real estate agent, Noelle mused. Sarah knew nearly everyone in town and had wonderful connections. Perhaps Carley was right.

“The Admiral really hasn’t changed,” Noelle murmured. She’d spent a lot of time at the old downtown theater, back in high school. It was there, in the balcony, that Thom had first kissed her. To this day—as much as she wanted to forget it—she remembered the thrill of that kiss.

The Admiral was a classic theater built sixty years earlier. The screen was huge and the second-floor balcony held the plush loge seats—always Noelle’s favorite place to sit.

They purchased the tickets, a large bucket of popcorn and drinks.

“Do you want to go up to the balcony?” Carley asked.

“Where else would we sit?” Noelle was already halfway up the winding staircase that led to the second floor. She went straight to the front row and plopped down on a cushioned seat. Carley plopped down beside her. The main feature was a Christmas release, an animated film starring the voices of Billy Crystal and Nathan Lane.

“I’m not a kid anymore, but I’m glad you wanted to see this movie, too,” her sister confided.

Noelle placed the bucket of popcorn between them. “Thanks for giving me the excuse.” She leaned forward and looked at the audience below. The theater was only half-full and she wondered if she’d recognize anyone.

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered. This couldn’t be happening! Thom Sutton sat almost directly below her. If that wasn’t bad enough, a blonde sat in the seat beside him and—to Noelle’s disgust—had her hands all over him.

“What?” Carley demanded.

“It’s Thom.” Heaven help her, Noelle couldn’t keep from watching. The blonde’s hand lingered at the base of his neck; she was stroking his hair with all the tenderness of a longtime lover.

“Not Thom Sutton? The son of the enemy?” Carley asked.

Noelle nodded. Sad and shocking though it was, he obviously still had the power to hurt her. No, not hurt her—infuriate her!

Carley reached for a kernel of popcorn and tossed it down.

Noelle gasped, grabbing her sister’s hand. The last thing she wanted was to call attention to the balcony. “Don’t do that!”

“Why not? He jilted you and now he’s here with another woman.” She hurled another kernel in his direction.

Noelle glanced down and saw the blonde nibbling on his earlobe. That did it. She scooped out a handful of popcorn and threw it over the balcony railing. Noelle and her sister leaned back and smothered their giggles. A few minutes later, unable to resist, Noelle looked down again.

“Oh, no,” Carley muttered under her breath as she sent a fresh shower of popcorn over the edge. She jerked back instantly.

“What?” Noelle asked.

“I think we’re in trouble. He just turned around and looked up here and I don’t think he’s pleased.”

Fine, the management could throw her out of the theater if he complained. Noelle didn’t care.

“I want to know about you and him,” Carley said. “I wasn’t even born when his mom and our mom had their big fight.”

Noelle was reluctant to describe all this old history, but she supposed her sister had a right to know. “Well, Mom had just started selling real estate and was making new friends. She claims Mary was jealous of those friends, especially one whose name was Cheryl. Cheryl had been working at the agency for a while and was kind of showing Mom the ropes. She was holding an open house and wanted something elegant to set off the dining room. Mom knew that Mary had this exquisite silver tea service—the perfect thing. But Mom also knew that if she asked Mary to lend it to Cheryl, Mrs. Sutton would turn her down. Instead, Mom asked to borrow it for herself, which was a fib.”

Carley frowned. “So that’s why Mrs. Sutton blamed Mom? Because Mom lied—I mean fibbed—and then the expensive silver tea service got stolen? Oh, I bet Mom was just sick about it.”

“She felt awful. According to Mrs. Sutton, the tea service had belonged to her grandmother and was a family heirloom. It was irreplaceable.”

“What did Mom do?”

“She called the police and offered a reward for its return, but the tea service didn’t turn up. She went to every antique store in the area, looking for something similar. Finally there was nothing more she could do. She tried to repair the damage to the friendship, but Mrs. Sutton was angry—and really, you can’t blame her. She was hurt because Mom had misled her. They got into this big argument about it and everything escalated from there. Mrs. Sutton did some petty things and Mom retaliated. Next thing you know, a grudge developed that’s gone on to this day.”

“Retaliated?” Carley asked. “How?”

“When it became clear that Mrs. Sutton wasn’t going to forgive and forget, Mom tried another tactic. She thought she’d be funny.” Noelle smiled at the memory. “Mrs. Sutton got her hair cut, and Mom sent her flowers and a sympathy card. Then Mrs. Sutton ordered pizza with double anchovies and had it delivered to Mom. You know how Mom hates anchovies—and furthermore she had to pay for it.” She shook her head. “It’s sad, isn’t it? That a good friendship should fall apart for such a silly reason.”

“Yeah,” Carley agreed. “They acted pretty childish.”

“And my relationship with Thom was one of the casualties.”

“When did you fall in love with him?” Carley wanted to know.

“We became good friends when we were kids. For a long time, our families got along really well. We often went on picnics and outings together. Thom and I were the closest in age, and we were constant companions—until the argument.”

“What happened after the argument?”

“Mrs. Sutton sent Thom and his older sister to a private school, and I didn’t see him again for about six years. He came back to public school when we were sophomores. We didn’t have a lot in common anymore and hardly had anything to do with each other until we both were assigned to the same English class in our senior year.”

“That was when you fell in love?” Carley’s voice rose wistfully.

Noelle nodded, and the familiar pain tightened her stomach. “Apparently I fell harder than Thom.”

Noelle carefully glanced down again. Talking about Thom and her romance—especially while she was sitting in this theater—brought up memories she’d prefer to forget. Why wouldn’t the stupid movie start? It was two minutes past the scheduled time.

The boy who’d rung up the popcorn order marched down the side aisle toward Noelle and Carley. He wore a bored but determined look. “There’s been a complaint from the people down below about you throwing popcorn,” he said accusingly.

Noelle could feel the heat build up in her cheeks. “I’m sorry—that was, uh, an accident.”

The kid’s expression said he’d heard it all before. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again, okay?”

“It won’t,” Noelle promised him.

“Sorry,” Carley said in a small voice as the boy left.

“It was my fault. I encouraged you.”

“But I started it.”

“You think you’re the one who invented throwing popcorn? Hey, I’ve got fifteen years on you.”

“I want to fall in love one day, too,” Carley said, leaning back in her seat, which rocked slightly.

“You will,” Noelle said, hoping her sister had better luck in that department than she’d had.

The lights dimmed then and with a grand, sweeping motion the huge velvet curtains hanging over the screen slowly parted. Soon, they were watching previews for upcoming features. Noelle absently nibbled on popcorn and let her mind wander.

Thom had changed if the blonde down below was the type of woman he found attractive. That shouldn’t surprise her, though. Time changed a lot of things in life. Some days, when she felt lonely and especially sorry for herself, she tried to imagine what would’ve happened if she had married Thom all those years ago. Getting married that young rarely worked out. They might’ve been divorced, she might’ve ended up a single mother, she might never have completed her education…. All kinds of difficult outcomes were possible. In all honesty, she told herself, it was for the best that they hadn’t run off together.

Carley slid forward and peeked over the railing. Almost immediately she flopped back. “You wouldn’t believe what they’re doing now.”

“Probably not.”

“They’re—”

Noelle gripped her sister’s elbow. “I don’t want to know.”

Carley’s eyes were huge. “You don’t want me to tell you?”

“No.”

Her sister stared at her in utter amazement. “You really don’t care?”

Noelle shook her head. That wasn’t the whole truth—or even part of it. But she didn’t want to know if Thom had his arm around the blonde or if he was kissing her—or anything else. It was a lot less painful to keep her head buried in a popcorn bucket. Forget Weight Watchers. Sometimes fat grams were the only source of comfort.

“Are you going to confront him after the movie?” Carley asked excitedly.

Noelle snickered. “Hardly.”

“Why not?”

“Just watch the movie,” she advised.

Carley settled in her seat and and began to rock back and forth. Another time, the action might have annoyed Noelle, but just then she found it oddly comforting. She wanted a special someone to put his arm around her and gently rock her. To create a private world for the two of them, the way Thom had once done in this very theater, on this very balcony. He’d kissed her here and claimed her heart. It’d been a pivotal moment in their fledgling romance. From that point onward, they knew—or at least Noelle had known. She was in love and willing to make whatever sacrifices love demanded.

All too soon, the feature had ended and the lights came back on. “That was great,” Carley announced.

Caught up in wistful memories, Noelle got to her feet, gathering her coat and purse. She took pains not to glance below, although her curiosity was almost overwhelming.

“We meet again,” an all-too-familiar voice said from behind her.

“Thom?” She turned to see him two rows back, with a four-or five-year-old boy at his side.

Noelle’s reaction was instantaneous. She looked below and discovered the blonde beauty with her male friend, who just happened not to be Thom Sutton. “I thought—”

“You’re Thom?” Carley asked, glowering with righteous indignation.

“Don’t tell me you’re Carley,” he returned, ignoring the girl’s outrage. “My goodness, you’ve grown into a regular beauty.”

Carley’s anger died a quick death. “Do you really think so?”

“I sure do. Oh, this is my nephew Cameron.”

“Hello, Cameron,” Noelle said. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah, but the best part was when the man came up and told you not to throw any more popcorn. Uncle Thom said you got in trouble.” The kid sounded far too smug for Noelle’s liking.