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Back The Copycat Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Chapter One
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Chapter Two
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Chapter Three
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Chapter Four
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Chapter Five
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Chapter Six
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Chapter Seven
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Chapter Eight
  34. Twenty-Three
  35. Twenty-Four
  36. Twenty-Five
  37. Chapter Nine
  38. Twenty-Six
  39. Twenty-Seven
  40. Chapter Ten
  41. Twenty-Eight
  42. Twenty-Nine
  43. Thirty
  44. Thirty-One
  45. Chapter Eleven
  46. Thirty-Two
  47. Thirty-Three
  48. Thirty-Four
  49. Thirty-Five
  50. Chapter Twelve
  51. Thirty-Six
  52. Thirty-Seven
  53. Thirty-Eight
  54. Chapter Thirteen
  55. Thirty-Nine
  56. Forty
  57. Forty-One
  58. Forty-Two
  59. Chapter Fourteen
  60. Forty-Three
  61. Forty-Four
  62. Forty-Five
  63. Forty-Six
  64. Forty-Seven
  65. Chapter Fifteen
  66. The Following Summer
  67. About the Author
  68. About the Publisher

The previous day, Gigi’s old law firm had called and asked Digger if they could supply a big cake for the party, as well as trays of finger food. They’d also told Digger that they were placing a birthday announcement in the city’s local newspaper, the Telegraph Journal, to commemorate what the senior partner called “this auspicious occasion.” The law firm planned to present a framed copy to her at the party. Ali knew Gigi would be thrilled.

“It should take us at least an hour to get everything,” Digger told Ali as he put on his coat. “Can you make Gigi some oatmeal or something? The last time I checked on her, she was napping, conserving her strength for the party.”

“No problem. Anything else?”

“That’s it. We’ll be back soon.” After a quick hug, they rushed out the door.

Ali was lining up the tiny plastic Oscars when the doorbell rang. No doubt another flower arrangement; two had already arrived earlier that morning. Ali ran to the door and peeked out through the window. It was Murray and Cassie.

Forty-One

The Christmas when Ali was six years old was the snowiest Christmas of her life. She was living in Miramichi, and the snow arrived early that year; by December 20 there was at least six feet on the ground and school had been canceled. They were renting an apartment in the basement of a house on Frances Street, and every morning Digger had to go outside and shovel out the area in front of the windows so the light could get in.

On December 23, Gigi called to say she didn’t think she could make it for Christmas. The roads were terrible and the person who was supposed to drive her had backed out. It was hard not to feel glum. That night, Digger brought home a Christmas tree he’d found on the side of the road. They’d strung popcorn, hung paper snowflakes, and made sugar cookies, but it didn’t feel like Christmas without Gigi.

Around six o’clock on Christmas Eve, there was a knock at the door. Digger opened it and there was Gigi, laden down with presents, groceries, and her suitcase. She’d managed to snag a place on the last train leaving Saint John that morning, but hadn’t called due to rumors that the trains might stop running thanks to an incoming storm. But the train made it through, and so did Gigi, and Christmas was saved.

The same combination of surprise and happiness surged through her when she opened the door to Murray and Cassie.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” said Murray, pointing to where the red carpet started at the bottom of the stairs. “Cool.”