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
Peyton and his aunt climbed into the boat with their gear. He was heading toward the passenger seat when Aunt Gert corrected him. “None o’ that lazybones passenger business for you,” she said. “I intend to relax and enjoy the view.”
“You mean you want me to drive the boat?”
“Somebody’s got to.”
“Aunt Gert, I think I love you.”
She threw her head back and laughed as she took off her straw hat and tucked it under her seat. Then she put on a pair of white-rimmed cat-eye sunglasses with rhinestones at the corners. “Now,” she said, “let me show you how to back the boat out of the slip. And remember—from now on, you need to back it in. Otherwise the locals will think you’re a landlubber, and we can’t have that, now can we?”
“Wouldn’t want to bring shame on my family,” Peyton said with a solemn bow of his head.
“Ha! You’re a mess, Peyton. I can tell already. We’re gonna get along fine!”
Following her instructions, Peyton backed the boat out of the slip and they were off. He kept to a slow speed until Aunt Gert commanded, “For heaven’s sake, son, open ’er up!”
Peyton pulled back on the throttle, and soon the Madame Queen was slicing through sun-kissed water, her bow rocking up and down as they streaked toward a pass up ahead, their hair blown back, their shirts flapping against them in the wind.
“That’s more like it!” Aunt Gert said loudly enough to be heard over the boat. “Go through that pass and bear to your right. I’m gonna show you somethin’ special.”
To Peyton’s amazement, the pass opened not into a bigger harbor but into the open sea—the Atlantic Ocean, whose powerful waves appeared to be napping at the moment. Aunt Gert pointed the way as they bypassed a beach that was speckled with sunbathers, motoring on to what looked like coastal wilderness. It was a beautiful beach, with pristine sand and wild dunes covered with sea oats. Aunt Gert guided him to an inlet and an old dock, applauding when he successfully backed the Madame Queen against it and tied up.
“What is this place, Aunt Gert?” Peyton helped her out of the boat and handed her the straw hat, then set her picnic basket and cooler on the dock.
“I’ll tell you when we get there.” Aunt Gert put her hat on and took up the picnic basket.
“Get where?”
“The special spot. Now grab that cooler and come on.”
She led him over a high dune to the prettiest stretch of sand he had ever seen. Still she didn’t stop. Only when they were just a few yards from the water and she had set the picnic basket on the sand did she dramatically spread her arms wide and proclaim, “This is Anastasia Island!”
“And we’re here because . . . ?”
“Oh, Peyton, keep up!” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Anastasia Island, near the lighthouse . . . ?”