Back The Christmas Basket
Chapters (25)
  1. Cover
  2. The Christmas Basket
  3. Other titles by Debbie Macomber now available wherever Harlequin ebooks are sold:
  4. Dedication
  5. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  6. Chapter One
  7. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  8. Chapter Two
  9. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  10. Chapter Three
  11. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  12. Chapter Four
  13. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  14. Chapter Five
  15. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  16. Chapter Six
  17. NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
  18. Chapter Seven
  19. A NOTE FROM NOELLE McDOWELL
  20. Chapter Eight
  21. Women’s Century Club Rose, Oregon
  22. Chapter Nine
  23. Sarah McDowell
  24. About the Author
  25. Copyright

Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Cookbook

Dedication

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.