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

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… .

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.”