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Back The Newcomer Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgments
  69. Also by Mary Kay Andrews
  70. About the Author
  71. Newsletter Sign-up

Letty tucked the card back into the envelope. A single tear spattered on the lavender paper. She put it inside the Louis Vuitton tote and brushed away another tear.

“All right,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion. “Let’s get out of here.”

Sammi gave her a sympathetic hug. “Want to go get a drink? I know I could use one.”

“You go,” Letty said, slinging the Louis Vuitton tote over her shoulder. “Order a cosmo and drink it in Tanya’s honor, will you? That’s what she used to order when she first moved up here, you know. She never missed a rerun of Sex and the City. She thought drinking a cosmopolitan actually made her as sexy and sophisticated as Carrie and Samantha and Charlotte.”

“What about you?” Sammi asked, as they locked up the town house. “What are your plans?”

They were standing on the brownstone stoop, looking down East Sixty-Third Street.

Letty pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt. “I need to call a guy.”

Sammi gave her a knowing smile. “I see. Keep in touch, okay? We’ll need to finalize some paperwork, but that can easily be done online.” She leaned over and pecked Letty’s cheek. “I still miss her, you know? But seeing you helps. You’re much more like her than you know. And that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you, Sammi.”

Letty sat on the top stoop of the brownstone. The marble step felt cool beneath the fabric of her skirt. She scrolled through the contacts on her phone until she found the one she wanted.

The icon was a photo she’d snapped of Joe at sunset, standing knee-deep in the surf, silhouetted against the glowing orange sky with his fishing rod cocked, mid-cast, over his bare shoulder.

She hadn’t talked to Joe since the night she’d arrived back in New York—just a brief call to tell him that she and Maya were okay. She’d sent a few emails and a couple of texts, but had been steely in her resolve not to call him.

Letty’s finger hovered over the tiny icon on the phone screen. Maybe he wouldn’t answer. She realized, with a start, that it was the Friday of Labor Day weekend. Maybe he was working. Or out on the boat. Maybe he’d ignore her call.

Enough uncertainty, she decided. Enough hesitation, enough maybes. Nothing in life was promised to us, Mimi had always preached. She tapped the icon and held her breath.

Epilogue

THE FIRST PINK STREAKS OF daylight were visible in the eastern sky as the truck bumped over the crushed-oyster-shell pavement.

She found comfort in the sight of the blinking neon MURMURING SURF sign. She turned in her seat to check on Maya. The child was sleeping, her head tilted to one side of her car seat, Ellie clutched in her hand.

Letty rolled her window down and inhaled the scent of salt air.