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Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
  3. Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Summer
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. Fall
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. Readers Guide
  56. Questions for Discussion
  57. About the Author
  58. What’s next onyour reading list?

It was old, this pool, as old as the house, and its elegant lines were edged with broad flagstones interspersed with moss in a way that would probably be banned under current safety regulations. Lilacs and hydrangeas enclosed the space in tall, fragrant walls, and the pool itself was lined with green vintage tiles that gleamed like the eyes of the gray cat, Oliver. With a small “yay,” Laura threw her towel to one side, skipped past Polly, and dove neatly into the deep end. With long, powerful strokes, she swam the length of the pool underwater and popped up at the shallow end, where Polly was settling down with her lower legs in the water.

Polly grinned at her. “You have a lot of beans, don’t you?”

Laura nodded. “Aren’t you going to swim?” She started spinning in circles in the water happily.

“Yes, of course,” said Polly, sliding gracefully into the pool and hunching her shoulders as the warm top layer gave way to the cooler water underneath. “Huh . . . not as warm as I expected.” She began a slow and gentle breaststroke across the shallow end. “I view swimming as a water-based meditation practice,” she said as she turned over and floated on her back. “I am reminded of our small place among the elements, our speckishness in the grand scheme of things.”

“Which is a good thing?” Laura said.

“Yes,” replied Polly, reaching the far side and holding on to the edge. “It’s good to be rightsized every so often, to remember that I’m a swimmer among swimmers.” She turned and launched herself in the other direction. “It can be a challenge to deal with the kind of physical beauty and incredible charm I possess.” She passed Laura and grinned. “I’ve come to terms with it.”

Laura flicked water at her. “I’m not really sure how to respond to that,” she said. “I’m going to put in some lengths, is that OK? I’ll keep to one side.”

Polly waved a hand. “Knock yourself out, I’m making myself one with the universe.”

Laura swiftly put distance between herself and the floating unicorn. She relaxed into her stroke, plowing up and down until her lungs burned. Ten lengths, twenty, more. She was able to turn off her mind and focus on the rhythm and effort of swimming, on the balance of her movement, on her turns and direction. She didn’t think at all, and that was a blessing she never tired of.