Those silly girls had no idea what they were really celebrating. They had no idea what it took to bring Agatha and her friends together seventy-five years ago. The Women's Society Club had been about supporting one another, about banding together to protect one another because no one else would. But it had turned into an ugly beast, a means by which rich ladies would congratulate themselves by giving money to the poor. And Agatha had let it happen. All her life, it seemed, she was making up for things she let happen.

He was the only person in the world she was tongue-tied around, and yet the only person she really wanted to talk to.

Your peers when you're a teenager will always be the keepers of your embarrassment and regret. It was one of life's great injustices, that you can move on and be accomplished and happy, but the moment you see someone from high school you immediately become the person you were then, not the person you are now.

She'd always known he didn't love her. But it was easier to bear when he didn't know she loved him. That way they were even. Now he knew he had all the power.

I'll give you one day at a time, Claire. But remember, I'm thousands of days ahead already.

...a sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup.

My writing process is very organic. I start with an idea. I have the general story arc and the cast. But then I sit down to write, and things change.