erity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who werent as lucky. My father left me with the impression that theyd brought their troubles on themselves.

It was my mothers job to keep our house  and myself and my two younger brothers  in spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didnt fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents werent satisfied with what they had, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations  social climbers, I suppose you could call them. My beauty was like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did.

They werent satisfied, butI was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that mens eyes watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and that my father liked to buy me pretty dresses.

I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didnt seem to be any way that I wouldnt get exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my fathers arm and think I was the most beautiful thing theyd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Bella. I was silly and shallow, but I was content. She smiled, amused at her own evaluation.

My parents influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didnt see any reason why I wouldnt get these things.

There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My very closest friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never have considered for me  a carpenter. A year later she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair. It was the first time Id ever felt truly jealous of anyone else in my entire life.

She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. It was a different time. I was the same age as you, but I was ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a husband who would kiss me when he got home from work  just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind. . . .

It was hard for me to imagine the world that Rosalie had known. Her story sounded more like a fairy tale than history to me. With a slight shock, I realized that this was very close to the world that Edward would have experienced when he was human, the world he had grown up in. I wondered  while Rosalie sat silent for a moment  if my world seemed as baffling to him as Rosalies did to me?

Rosalie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different, the wistfulness gone.

In Rochester, there was one royal family  the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. Thats how his son, Royce King the Second  her mouth twisted around the name, it came out through her teeth  saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my fathers lunch to work with him. I remember being confused when she insisted that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank. Rosalie laughed without humor.

I didnt notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My room was always overflowing with them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house.

Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.

My parents approved  thats putting it mildly. This was everything theyd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everythingId dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before Id known him for two months.

We didnt spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you.

It wasnt a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything Id ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Veras, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings estate, and I pitied her.

Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as shed promised. I wondered if this was why she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them  because shed been within reach of everything shed wanted when her human life was cut short.

I was at Veras that night, Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples  he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasnt looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasnt quite the same  not so sweet somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be queen.

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but it looked like her bone white face got paler.

It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadnt realized how late it was. She continued to whisper almost inaudibly. It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away, and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home  I can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard . . . in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant memories have faded away completely. . . .

She sighed, and began whispering again. Yes, I was worrying about the weather. . . . I didnt want to have to move the wedding indoors. . . .

I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished Id called my father to escort me home, but the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called my name.

Rose! he yelled, and the others laughed stupidly.

I hadnt realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends, sons of other rich men.

Heres my Rose! Royce shouted, laughing with them, sounding just as stupid. Youre late. Were cold, youve kept us waiting so long.

Id never seen him drink before. A toast, now and then, at a party. Hed told me he didnt like champagne. I hadnt realized that he preferred something much stronger.

He had a new friend  the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta.

What did I tell you, John, Royce crowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. Isnt she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?

The man named John was dark-haired and suntanned. He looked me over like I was a horse he was buying.

Its hard to tell, he drawled slowly. Shes all covered up.

They laughed, Royce like the rest.

Suddenly, Royce ripped my jacket from my shoulders  it was a gift fr