Getting revenge can kill you.  If you want real revenge, you have to be willing to pay.  Life is not like the movies.

Unfortunately.

With these happy thoughts, I measured out fudge cake batter into cupcake liners and slid the pan into the oven.  I set the timer and reminded myself for the thousandth time that I'd let go of the need for revenge.  I wasn't a hot-blooded teenager.  I was a thirty-three-year-old caterer with a business to run and work to do.  Half-past six on a cool August morning?  What I needed was coffee.

You never let go of the thirst for revenge.

Yeah, well.  Maybe hearing other people's sad stories sparked thoughts of my own.  Or in this case I'd heard one unhappy story, one story needing justice.  But what could I do for a client in emotional pain?  I'd agreed to cater her hockey party.  A nurse had told my client, Patricia McCracken, that hosting this sports celebration would distract her from her problems.  But whenever we discussed the menu, Patricia didn't want to talk about vittles; she wanted to talk about vindication.  And I was as unenthusiastic about jumping into her revenge fantasy as I was about washing dishes after a banquet.

For six years, I'd run the only food-service business in the small mountain town of Aspen Meadow, Colorado.  My son, Arch, was fourteen years old.  Just over a year ago, I'd married for the second time.  Add to this the fact that I'd already sought punishment for the scoundrel who'd recently wronged Patricia McCracken.  I'd barely escaped with my life....