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 stop. “We have a lot that is wrong in our country right now, but I can tell you this woman and her family are not one of them.”
Evan squeezes my hand as Esme returns with two more rugs.
Evan stands and walks over to Esme.
“Show me how you and your mother do this,” Evan says.
Esme looks over at me, a big smile crossing her face. She picks up a rug and flips it in the air—once, twice, three times—before floating it gently to the ground.
“I think you’re stronger than I am,” Evan says.
“Sí,” Esme says. “Probablemente.”
Evan laughs.
“You try,” Esme says, nodding at the remaining rug.
Evan picks it up, gives it a flip and promptly smacks himself in the face with the back end of the rug.
Esme laughs and claps as Sonny comes running. The dog grabs the rug out of Evan’s hands and starts running through the yard, Evan giving chase. He finally retrieves it from Sonny’s mouth at the edge of the woods.
“Sonny is mas fuerte than you,” Esme says. “He did better job. I think it’s clean now.”
“Do you mind showing Evan what you do during the day?” I ask as she returns with the rugs.
“Of course,” she says.
As the two head inside, Evan asks, “Esme is such a pretty name. What does it mean?”
Esme stops. “Emerald,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Mi madre said I had the most beautiful green eyes when I was born.”
“You do,” Evan says, nodding.
I twist the braided stems in my hand and then slip it behind my ear, wondering how the beauty of childhood and equality of humans too often gets lost in the absurdity of adulthood and inequality of the world.
FORTY-ONE
“Esme and I have the inn under control, Mom,” Evan says. “Go do your thing.”
“Sí,” Esme confirms, before bumping Evan with her elbow. “Especially since every guest will be with her.”
The two try to stifle their laughter, which only succeeds in making their bodies shake even more.
I try to move, but my legs won’t work. My stomach is filled with butterflies, and I feel a tad faint.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Evan asks.
“I haven’t been this nervous in ages,” I say. “What if they don’t get anything out of this? What if they paid all of this money and walk away empty?” I stop, and when I speak, my voice is as wavy as the lake. “What if they see that I’m a sham?”
Evan puts his arm around my waist. “What if, what if, what if,” he says in a soft tone. “What if ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts? Then every day would be Christmas.”