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.

Chapter 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.