On a Snowy Night: The Christmas Basket / The Snow Bride. Debbie Macomber

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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

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