BooksBarbecue
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 put my paintbrush in an oversize baggy and zip it shut to keep it from drying out—leaving Sonny asleep on the tarp—before grabbing Trish’s hand and leading her down the stairs, where I gather water, coffee and aspirin for her. “I only play a doctor on TV,” I say, pulling a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon from the refrigerator.

Trish laughs and rubs her head. “That’ll do,” she says, downing her aspirin and a glass of water, before taking a big gulp of coffee. A huge smile lights up her face. “What a night. We had fun, didn’t we?”

I match her smile. “We did. I did.” I walk over and hug her from behind. “Thank you.”

“Why aren’t you hungover?” she asks with a slight groan.

I pull a mug from a cabinet and fill it with coffee. “I am, albeit not as much as you. You pretty much had that last bottle of wine yourself.”

“Oops,” she laughs.

“You know, despite my hangover, I actually feel...better,” I say. “More centered. More focused. More in tune.”

“Smudging, cleansing, two bottles of wine and a few shots of whiskey will do that,” Trish says. She pulls up a stool and watches me fry the bacon and eggs. I put some bread in the toaster, and grab some butter and jam from the refrigerator.

“You’ve always taken such good care of people,” Trish says, her voice suddenly emotional. “It’s nice to see you take care of yourself for once.”

“Thank you,” I say, preparing her plate. “You mean, like now?”

Trish laughs. “I’m serious,” she says. “Few would have the courage to do what you’re doing.”

Trish grabs a piece of toast and a fork and then completely devours her breakfast before I have even taken three bites. As she grabs another cup of coffee, she notices my renderings for the cottage. “Finally,” she says. “I can see what you have planned from top to bottom.”

I walk over and stand beside her, pointing this way and that, explaining what Frank and I have changed since I did these. Trish listens intently while inhaling a second piece of toast, this time smothered in homemade blueberry jam from a local orchard.

“I have some ideas,” Trish says. “Promise you won’t get mad, okay?”

I narrow my eyes.