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Back The Summer Cottage
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. About the Author
  6. Dedication
  7. Quote
  8. Prologue
  9. Part One
  10. ONE
  11. TWO
  12. THREE
  13. Part Two
  14. FOUR
  15. FIVE
  16. SIX
  17. Part Three
  18. SEVEN
  19. EIGHT
  20. NINE
  21. TEN
  22. Part Four
  23. ELEVEN
  24. TWELVE
  25. THIRTEEN
  26. Part Five
  27. FOURTEEN
  28. FIFTEEN
  29. SIXTEEN
  30. SEVENTEEN
  31. Part Six
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. NINETEEN
  34. TWENTY
  35. TWENTY-ONE
  36. Part Seven
  37. TWENTY-TWO
  38. TWENTY-THREE
  39. TWENTY-FOUR
  40. TWENTY-FIVE
  41. Part Eight
  42. TWENTY-SIX
  43. TWENTY-SEVEN
  44. TWENTY-EIGHT
  45. TWENTY-NINE
  46. Part Nine
  47. THIRTY
  48. THIRTY-ONE
  49. THIRTY-TWO
  50. THIRTY-THREE
  51. THIRTY-FOUR
  52. Part Ten
  53. THIRTY-FIVE
  54. THIRTY-SIX
  55. THIRTY-SEVEN
  56. THIRTY-EIGHT
  57. Part Eleven
  58. THIRTY-NINE
  59. FORTY
  60. FORTY-ONE
  61. Part Twelve
  62. FORTY-TWO
  63. FORTY-THREE
  64. FORTY-FOUR
  65. Part Thirteen
  66. FORTY-FIVE
  67. FORTY-SIX
  68. FORTY-SEVEN
  69. EPILOGUE
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. AUTHOR NOTE
  72. Reader’s Guide
  73. Questions for Discussion
  74. The Heirloom Garden
  75. Abby

I can again feel the rage build inside me, but I think of Evan, and the plan we have carefully orchestrated.

“I need this,” I start, trying to play to her emotions.

“Honestly, I don’t care what you need.”

I forgot she has no emotions.

“Well, then,” I start casually, “I guess you don’t care about this.”

I pull from my bag the time capsule and letter I discovered in the fish house.

“Or this,” I continue, pulling out a cow shoe.

The Dragoon Lady motions for the waiter. “I’m not interested in the trash you picked up at the antique mall to decorate your inn. Check, please. I only had the tea. Thank you.”

“You’re right,” I say as the waiter leaves. “This is trash. This old time capsule and letter I discovered in the fish house from Sadie Collins, the daughter of the man who built my family’s cottage.” I stop. “Oh, and this. This is just some, old original bootlegging trickery from Al Capone.”

Iris turns to me, looking me in the eye for the first time, and scratches her head in thought, her two wigs sliding ever so slightly atop her head.

“I was thinking I could either give them to the state historical society, or sell them via Sotheby’s to help retrieve some of the cost I’ll need to spend on your renovation and loss of income from the guest suite.” I stop and look at her. “Or, I mean, I guess I could, well, give them to you and the historical society. What a coup that would be for you and the town, right?”

I take a sip of my manhattan and lean back in my chair. The waiter drops off two checks, and I reach for my wallet.

“Oh, my dear, I’ll take care of your bill,” the Dragoon Lady says.

“How sweet of you,” I say, “but I really must be going.”

I begin to stand, but Iris grabs my arm as I start to put the items back in my bag.

“Can’t we talk?” she asks.

“Perhaps,” I say, trying to match the evil smile she always gives. “Let me know.”

I am as ruthless as Al Capone, I think. I outwitted the Dragoon Lady!

I turn to leave—my back straight, walking on air—when I hear her say, “By the way, your tongue and mouth are blue. You might want to see a doctor.”

I scamper away and head directly to the ladies’ room. I lean into the mirror, open my mouth and groan. I look like Smurfette. My lips, mouth and tongue are stained blue from the Blue Moon ice cream.