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

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

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