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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

“What has brought you here today?” I ask the group. “Something led you to this place and this moment. What was it?”

The sun is beaming on the women, and I can see them change in front of me, as if the light is illuminating not only their faces but also their souls.

“Divorce.”

“Unhappy in my job.”

“My mother died, and I feel alone.”

“Empty nest.”

“My children don’t seem to appreciate me.”

“I want to leave my job and write.”

Some of the women become emotional, and others reach out to grab their hands, wipe their tears, give them hugs.

“You may be wondering why I brought you here and why I built a sandcastle,” I say.

The women nod.

“I spent a lot of my childhood right here on this beach building sandcastles,” I say. “I grew up blessed in so many ways—this cottage, this beach, a family who loved me deeply. Because of that, I grew up believing in love. I jumped into it headfirst, just like I did this lake as a little girl. I ended up marrying a man who turned out to be much different than the one I fell in love with. He cheated on me. How many times? I don’t know. I still beat myself up over it. Did I ignore it? How could I not have known? What I do know is that I was raising a child, working full-time, running a house and barely sleeping. When my parents died in quick succession, I not only experienced such monumental, soul-shattering grief, I also experienced an awakening. How long did I have left? What was the mark I wanted to leave on this world? My son was in college, my job wasn’t fulfilling, and my husband fell in love with a college student in his class named Fuschia.”

The women laugh nervously.

“Uprooting my life and starting over no longer seemed like a risk, it seemed like a necessity,” I continue. “That said, I wouldn’t change a thing. I had a beautiful son, who has grown up to be an incredible young man. I have friends who have supported me. I have my own set of rules that now guide me.” I stop and look at each of the women. “All I can do is speak from the heart. I believe that I am here because of all of that, not in spite of all of that. My history, good and bad, has made me who I am.”