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
I take a deep breath. “Remember, it’s yoga practice, not yoga perfect,” I say. “We must remember we are all on a journey, and every day we can do better, be better, improve our minds, bodies and spirits.”
I continue. “How about sukhasana?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on the floor, my back straight. “This is also known as easy seat.”
Anyone can do it, I don’t say.
Again, there is more popping like someone is going to town on a sheet of Bubble Wrap. I look up and am nearly blinded by the sight of Sandy sitting cross-legged in her skirt. Dee is seated sidesaddle.
Before I can move to correct them, they stand, knees popping. “Yoga’s too easy,” Sandy says. “We’re gonna hit the town and shop. Get in some real exercise. What time’s happy hour?”
I open my mouth, but Trish stops me before I can insert my foot.
“Five p.m.,” she says, her voice chipper. Trish looks at me and winks. “Though a few of us might start a wee bit earlier.”
Twenty-four hours later, my guests check out, and my first weekend as an innkeeper is complete.
When the last person pulls out of the driveway, I look at Trish. “Now, this is my happy hour.”
“Your first guests arrive in less than a week,” Trish says. “You need to hire two new people before then and work out a lot of kinks.”
As I clean up the dishes in the dining room, I pick up a dirty plate and act as if I’m going to Frisbee it at Trish’s head.
“Hashtag grateful,” she says.
Part Ten
Rule #10:
Go Jump in the Lake!
THIRTY-FIVE
May
“The kickoff to Memorial Day weekend looks to be one of the coldest on record. Could we be talking snow flurries tonight? Stay tuned.”
I click off the TV and then throw the remote into the living room, where it slides across the wood floor before stopping on the hook rug by the front door. Sonny jumps up from his pouf in the kitchen and chases the remote. He nudges the remote off the rug and then goes round and round on the circular rug before dropping into a tight little ball.
“I wish I could be as relaxed as you,” I say, unconsciously pulling my robe tight over my pajamas as if to ward off the coming cold. “First guests arrive in...” I stop and check the kitchen clock. “Four hours.” I look back at Sonny. “And it’s like winter outside. I’m doomed.”
Sonny looks at me, sighs and closes his eyes.
Memorial Day weekend on the coast of Michigan is iffier than zip-lining with a ball of yarn. Some Memorial Day weekends are cool and rainy, spring refusing to turn over its reins to summer. And some are sunny and in the seventies, a gift, warm enough even for brave souls to...