“I found this on the beach last summer.” Andrew grinned and she could tell his front tooth was about to fall out. “You can have it.”

Before she could protest, Andrew’s mom gave his hand a tug.

He looked back at her and waved, and for the briefest second Emily’s heart ached.

His mom was, quite possibly, younger than Emily. And she had that beautiful little boy and probably a devoted husband waiting for her somewhere. That life had never appealed to Emily, but in that moment—and it was a fleeting one—something tugged at her insides.

But Emily didn’t have time for heartache when she was about to get off the ferry. She grabbed her suitcase, her purse, and the large bag she’d stuffed with toiletries, Kind bars (to keep from eating junk), dark chocolate–covered blueberries (because sometimes it was okay to eat junk), two books, and anything else that hadn’t fit in her suitcase.

She made her way to the door of the ferry and drew in a deep, deep breath.

I can do hard things.

She’d tossed the mantra around in her head for so many months, the words were meaningless by now. Well, they were pretty much already meaningless because once a phrase caught on and became popular, it lost its value. Every fitness expert in America probably shouted those words out as they reached the fourteenth rep of a particularly challenging exercise.

But she could do hard things. She’d been doing hard things since she was eleven years old.

Emily stood at the edge of the island and took another salt-tinged breath, the faint smell of fish reminding her that not everything near the ocean was lovely. Certainly not.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed herself to press onward. She hadn’t come this far to chicken out now, and besides, what other choice did she have?

Sometimes she wished Nantucket hadn’t been ruined for her. Just another complaint to add to the pile, she supposed. If she wasn’t careful, she’d rack up so many she’d become one of those cranky old women whose mouths were permanently frowning, like that cartoon character, Maxine, on the Hallmark cards.

Or her own grandmother.

But no, that would never be her. Not Emily Ackerman. Not the girl who looked for fun wherever she went (and usually found it). Not the free-spirited wanderer who’d worked acting jobs all over the world, had more friends than she could keep track of, and knew exactly how to turn every trip into an adventure.

This was just another trip, right? Never mind that this trip had a purpose other than fun. This trip was her second chance—and she could not screw it up.

That certainly put a damper on any plans for a good time.