Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
Lisa led the way, with Peyton pulling the heavy canvas behind him. Underneath the cottage, he grinned at Lisa and said, “Want to go for a sail?”
“Definitely.”
They climbed into the old boat, its mast long gone, its white paint faded and peeling. Peyton and Lisa sat next to each other on the only remaining seat, facing the water.
“Where to?” he asked.
“I’ve always wanted to see Italy. Take me to Rome, and step on it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Is that Rome I see up ahead?”
Lisa peered at the water. “No, that’s a sandbar. But it’ll do.”
They laughed as Peyton surveyed the hull. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure this boat would make it to that sandbar. And it sure wouldn’t make it back.”
“Well, now, that’s a problem,” Lisa said. “I guess we’ll just have to build our own boat. We’ll need a good name for it.”
“Madame Queen is taken—that’s Aunt Gert’s boat.”
“Hey, I wonder what this one’s called.” Lisa climbed out of the boat and walked around to the stern.
“See anything?” Peyton asked. He turned around to see Lisa staring at the stern of the boat, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “Lisa? What’s the matter?”
“Come here and look,” she said.
Climbing out of the boat and joining her at the stern, he read the boat’s nameplate, chipped and faded but still legible: Peyton.
Slowly, he knelt on the ground and ran his hand over the letters.
“Do you think this boat was named after you somehow?” Lisa wondered.
Peyton rested his hand on his knee. “No, the boat wasn’t named for me. But I think maybe I was named for the boat. I never even wondered about my name until Bonnie said she thought it was strange. And it is. It’s not a family name. It’s not a common name. So where did it come from?”
Lisa knelt down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe the boat was really special to your dad. And so were you. I think that’s why he wanted you to share its name.”
Peyton felt it again, the telltale stinging of his eyes. Only this time, he didn’t hold back. His eyes welled, and he let the tears rain down as he put his arms around Lisa and held on tight.
forty
Peyton and Lisa needed a way to lift the heavy weight of the cottage—the questions it raised and the secrets it held. After lunch, he took her to meet Millie, who picked out an emerald-green, palm-print sundress for Lisa, along with a pair of sandals, sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat to match her dress. Millie also recommended a blue-green bathing suit “just in case.” Peyton happily bought it all, with no thought to budgeting his funds.
“Millie, do you know if there’s any ferryin’ work down here?” he asked his new friend while Lisa put her other dress and shoes into a bag.
“You know how to handle a fishing boat?” Millie asked.