Morning Glory

A Drifters and Dreamers Romance

Love Is

A Falling Star

All the Way from Texas

The Yard Rose

The Ivy Tree

Lily's White Lace

That Way Again

The Wager

Trouble in Paradise

The PMS Club

The Love's Valley Historical Romance Series:

Redemption

Choices

Absolution

Chances

Promises

The Promised Land Romance Series:

Willow

Velvet

Gypsy

Garnet

Augusta

The Land Rush Romance Series:

Emma's Folly

Violet's Wish

Maggie's Mistake

Just Grace

Carolyn Brown

This title was previously published by Avalon Books; this version
has been reproduced from the Avalon book archive files.

Clara eyed the suitcase beside the dresser in her bedroom. Most days she tried to ignore it, forgetting the
lovely dresses folded neatly inside. Choosing not to
remember why she'd packed her best that day more
than ten years before. Everything as it was when she
was ready to elope at nineteen. A full decade had
passed and still the townsfolk thought she had been
affected by the events of that spring tent revival. She
really didn't care what they thought; not back then, not
now. Someday Percy Miller would come back to
Healdton, Oklahoma. The little double-barreled derringer in her purse would remedy the problem when the
time arrived. No one, not even a so-called man of God,
messed with an Anderson and got away with it forever.

Clara went downstairs and called through the dining room, toward the open kitchen door. "I'm going to
town now, Dulcie."

"It's about that time." Dulcie dried her hands on the
tail of her starched apron. It had to be nigh on to 3:00.
That's when Miss Clara always left the house with her
hat set just so, her white gloves buttoned at the wrist.
All dressed up to go to the post office to collect the mail
for everyone in the Inn and do whatever errands needed done.

"You know we've got that extra room. If anyone
comes askin' about it there's a contract right here"
Clara pulled a single piece of paper from the drawer of
the oak credenza and laid it beside fresh pink roses
floating in a crystal bowl, then meticulously fastened
the pearl buttons on her gloves and checked her reflection in the gold gilt mirror. Her hat was a masterpiece
of feathers and ribbons on white straw perched on top
of dark-slicked-back hair. She leaned in closer. A few
crow's feet around big blue eyes, but then thirty loomed
big in the near future. Wide mouth with no wrinkles.
Not yet, anyway. How many years did she have left
before she'd look like a dried up apple?