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ROSALIE HESITATED IN THE DOORWAY； HER BREATHTAKing face unsure。
“Of course；” I replied； my voice an octave high with surprise。 “Come on in。”
I sat up； sliding to the end of the sofa to make room。 My stomach twisted nervously as the one Cullen who
did not like me moved silently to sit down in the open space。 I tried to come up with a reason why she would
want to see me； but my mind was a blank on that point。
“Do you mind talking to me for a few minutes？” she asked。 “I didn’t wake you or anything； did I？” Her
eyes shifted to the stripped bed and back to my couch。
“No； I was awake。 Sure； we can talk。” I wondered if she could hear the alarm in my voice as clearly as I
could。
She laughed lightly； and it sounded like a chorus of bells。 “He so rarely leaves you alone；” she said。 “I
figured I’d better make the best of this opportunity。”
What did she want to say that couldn’t be said in front of Edward？ My hands twisted and untwisted
around the edge of the comforter。
“Please don’t think I’m horribly interfering；” Rosalie said； her voice gentle and almost pleading。 She folded
her hands in her lap and looked down at them as she spoke。 “I’m sure I’ve hurt your feelings enough in the
past； and I don’t want to do that again。”
“Don’t worry about it； Rosalie。 My feelings are great。 What is it？”
She laughed again； sounding oddly embarrassed。 “I’m going to try to tell you why I think you should stay
human — why I would stay human if I were you。”
“Oh。”
She smiled at the shocked tone of my voice； and then she sighed。
“Did Edward ever tell you what led to this？” she asked； gesturing to her glorious immortal body。
I nodded slowly； suddenly somber。 “He said it was close to what happened to me that time in Port
Angeles； only no one was there to save you。” I shuddered at the memory。
“Is that really all he told you？” she asked。
“Yes；” I said； my voice blank with confusion。 “Was there more？”
She looked up at me and smiled； it was a harsh； bitter — but still stunning — expression。
“Yes；” she said。 “There was more。”
I waited while she stared out the window。 She seemed to be trying to calm herself。
“Would you like to hear my story； Bella？ It doesn’t have a happy ending — but which of ours does？ If we
had happy endings； we’d all be under gravestones now。”
I nodded； though I was frightened by the edge in her voice。
“I lived in a different world than you do； Bella。 My human world was a much simpler place。 It was
nineteen thirty…three。 I was eighteen； and I was beautiful。 My life was perfect。”
She stared out the window at the silver clouds； her expression far away。
“My parents were thoroughly middle class。 My father had a stable job in a bank； something I realize now
that he was smug about — he saw his prosperity 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 weren’t as lucky。 My father
left me with the impression that they’d brought their troubles on themselves。
“It was my mother’s 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 didn’t fully understand at the time； but I
was always vaguely aware that my parents weren’t 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 weren’t satisfied； but I was。 I was thrilled to be me； to be Rosalie Hale。 Pleased that men’s 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 didn’t seem to be any way that I wouldn’t 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 father’s arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they’d
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 didn’t see any reason why I wouldn’t 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 I’d 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 Rosalie’s 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。 That’s 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 father’s 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 didn’t 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