As I stood on the balcony, shimmering in the magical sequin dress, I realized that Gifford did not even remember that tonight was our wedding anniversary.

    "Giff—" I called down to him.

    His hand pressed against his lapel, he turned and gazed up and—for the first time—I saw what seemed to be a pink rose, which, although only half open, was magnificent in its size and the intensity of its color.