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For weeks, you’ve been scouring the stores. You have a lot to give. Most of it is wrapped up colorfully, beribboned and bowed. Some gifts are in bags with shiny trim, while others are tucked away in closets. You have a lot to give this holiday season, but in the new novel, “Remembrance” by Mary Monroe, when you give of yourself, you also get. Beatrice Powell couldn’t understand what was wrong with people. When she married Eric all those years ago, he told her that she could do whatever she wanted, as long as it made her happy – and so she found an excuse to throw dozens of annual parties. The biggest one was her Christmas-birthday celebration and everyone always had a good time. This year, though, all her usual guests made other plans that weekend. This year, Bea had extra to celebrate. It was the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day she almost died of a hit-and-run accident, a date that she could never forget. She was still a teenager then; only the CPR skills of a handsome but anonymous man had saved her.