âYou donât understand.â
âMy sister Ariel and I havenât spoken in six months,â Melanie went on. âI never wanted to see her again after what she did. When Stephanie called and begged me to come to dinner to celebrate the birth of Arielâs little girl, Iâ¦I hung up on her! Oh, God, she was my best friend. That was the last time we talkedâ¦â
Kent had to resist the urge to take Melanie into his arms when she buried her face in her hands and painful sobs shook her. Instead, he racked his rattled brain for something soothing to say while he was processing what sheâd told him. Melanie wasnât making any sense, but she was obviously distraught.
âIâm sure she realises why you were upset,â he said. âThatâs what best friends are for. Whatever happened between the two of you, itâs never too late to make amends.â
âYou donât understand,â Melanie repeated. âIâve known Stephanie for years. She was my best friend, yet I lost my temper with her because she befriended my sister. I canât ever make amends for that, because sheâs lying on the floor of that bedroom dead. My best friend is dead.â
Dear Reader,
Who among us has not longed for the opportunity to turn back the clock for a second chance at something? Whether it has to do with a relationship, career choice or some other life-altering decision, there have certainly been times I have longed to go back and get it right this time.
Thatâs the dilemma facing Melanie Harris and Kent Mattson, the characters you are about to meet. Like the rest of us, they learn that while it is impossible to redo the past, it is very possible to meet the present head-on when life offers unexpected opportunities. Itâs been my experience that getting that second shot at happiness is only the first step. In the end, as Melanie and Kent find out, itâs what we do with that second chance that can make all the difference.
Enjoy the ride these two people are about to take you on. Youâre going to find they keep you guessing until the very end.
Happy reading!
Julia Penney
CHAPTER ONE
WHEN MELANIE HARRIS had envisioned celebrating her six-month wedding anniversary, she never imagined she would spend it sitting in an impersonal office, waiting for an appointment with the renowned Dr. Kent Mattson. Then again, she hadnât anticipated how quickly things could have turned bad. She glanced at the unmoving hands of the wall clock, then tried to read the magazine in her lap, but the words on the page were a meaningless blur.
She sighed, bit her lip and, for the hundredth time, wondered what was keeping her in the chair. All she had to do was get up, walk out into the bright California sunshine and put the whole sorry chapter behind her.
There was the door.
She stared at it for a moment, then set the magazine down and stood with sudden resolve. Sheâd just taken her first step toward freedom when the receptionist entered the waiting room.
âDr. Mattson will see you now, Ms. Harris,â she said with a pleasant smile. The receptionist was a middle-aged woman with a calm, patient expression, obviously accustomed to dealing with the steady stream of emotional wreckage that flowed through Dr. Mattsonâs office. âI apologize for the wait.â
Melanie, a mere two feet away from the door, froze with indecision. She could hear her heart beating in the stillness of the room. Her mouth was dry, her palms damp. She didnât belong here, but, after all, sheâd promised Stephanie that sheâd endure at least one visit. She owed her best friend that much. It was Stephanieâs enviable strength that had propped Melanie up for the past six months. Six months of wishing she were dead rather than face another sunrise.
âPromise me youâll see Dr. Mattson. Heâs the best there is and he can help you,â Stephanie had pleaded. âYou have to put this behind you. None of what happened was your fault.â
Wasnât it, though? Wasnât she standing here in this office, hand reaching for the doorknob, because sheâd blindly and willingly believed everything Mitch had told her, in spite of the warnings from those whoâd known him so much better than she had?
âMs. Harris?â the receptionist said, a concerned frown furrowing her brow. âAre you all right?â
Melanie felt herself beginning to crumble. In spite of her resolve not to show any weakness, her eyes stung and her voice trembled when she spoke. âIf I were all right, would I be here?â
The receptionist never missed a beat. âMs. Harris, there isnât one among us who doesnât need someone like Dr. Mattson at some point in our lives,â she soothed, stepping forward to touch Melanieâs arm. âPlease, come with me.â She guided Melanie across the waiting room to another door and gave her a reassuring nod before opening it. Melanie drew a deep breath, shored up the last of her resolve, and entered Dr. Mattsonâs inner sanctum.