My older sister had been taking things from me since we were kids. At first, it was the last piece of pie or the blue sweater I'd saved my allowance to buy. Later, it was my work, my time, and the right to speak for the family inn we both owned. I kept a little book of every offense, and for years I believed that writing something down made it easier to forgive. Then, three days before my wedding, I found a sale announcement bearing my name beside my sister's. I had never agreed to sell the inn. She planned to unveil the deal at my reception, in the place where our mother had raised us and where I was supposed to begin my married life. With my wedding approaching and the buyer waiting, I had to decide what I was willing to lose to stop her.