Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- Booklist
- About the Author
- Dedication
- Quote
- Prologue
- Part One
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- Part Two
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- Part Three
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- Part Four
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- Part Five
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- Part Six
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- Part Seven
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Part Eight
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- Part Nine
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- Part Ten
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- Part Eleven
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- Part Twelve
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- Part Thirteen
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- AUTHOR NOTE
- Reader’s Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- The Heirloom Garden
- Abby
“You realize what’s at risk here, don’t you?” Trish warns. “You’re my friend, but right now I must advise you as your attorney first and foremost.”
I nod. I know she cares about me and is just looking out for my well-being.
“You have a great offer—all cash, need I remind you—for the cottage. If you don’t sell, you’ll be losing a sizable chunk of change that would set you up for life. In addition, you’ll be incurring a load of debt, you’ll be leaving a city you love to start over in a resort town, you’ll be starting a business that you have no experience in...” Trish stops. “You could lose it all, Adie Lou. Everything. Even the cottage in the end.”
“I feel like I don’t have anything to lose,” I say. “And what if I don’t? What if this is what I was meant to do? My grampa sacrificed everything to buy that cottage. My parents loved that cottage more than anything in this world. So did Evan and I. What does it mean if I just walk away from all of that so life is a little easier on me? My mom told me the worst thing to live with is regret.” I stop. “That cottage is my history.” I stop again. “I think it might be my future, too.”
Trish nods and then smiles. “Okay, then should I remind you that you don’t particularly like random strangers, and I haven’t seen you make anything except reservations since I’ve known you.”
“Hey!” I protest. “I cooked when Evan was young, but then Nate said he hated the ‘smell of food’ in our house. And he only really wanted to hang out with people he liked, intellectual elites who didn’t understand the joy of eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and watching Sex and the City reruns on a rainy afternoon.” I stop to catch my breath, my anger rushing forth like the waves of Lake Michigan during a storm. “And I just don’t like the people I work with or for...” I stop again and look at my friend.
“My God, Trish,” I continue. “Look at me. I mean it! Look at me! Who am I anymore? I’ve gained twenty pounds. I wear sweater sets now. A man at an account meeting who’s older than me called me ‘ma’am’ last month. I’m an online click away from purchasing a rose-colored sweatshirt with cardinals perched just-so on a snowy branch with matching sweatpants and giving up.” I stop, and my lip quivers. “I need a new beginning. I’ve lost who I am. I’m trying to find that girl again. Help me.”
Trish’s face softens.