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
“No,” I say. “These are special rocks. We can’t throw any away.” I get behind him and push, and we take it one step at a time, stopping on each landing to catch our breaths.
“I feel like a pack mule,” Scooter says, slowly trudging up the steps to the cottage.
“Better than a jackass,” I laugh.
“Oh, I can be that, too, sometimes.”
When we reach the top, we’re both panting. I’m drenched in sweat, despite the temperature, and my hair is sticking to my neck and face.
“I think we need to go somewhere very dark to eat,” I say.
“Lots of dark dives in Saugatuck,” he says. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” I say, walking onto the screened porch. I head directly to the ledge containing all of the heart rocks my family has collected over the years, adding the newest one to the collection and feeling as if—despite my fears—perhaps, just perhaps, it might have been the one I’ve been searching for all of these years.
Part Seven
Rule #7:
Dinner Is a Family Activity
TWENTY-TWO
“Mom! I’m here!”
I hear loud honking on Lakeshore Drive, followed by Evan’s voice bellowing out of the car. I can’t help but smile: it’s the same thing I used to do when I arrived here to see my mom and dad.
I rush onto the screened porch. “Stay here,” I tell Sonny, sternly wagging a finger to keep him from barking. “And no bark, okay, buddy? At least give me time to explain.”
Despite the snow, Evan rushes up the steps—taking them two at a time—his body skidding to a stop at the very top.
I shut the door just in time.
“What took you so long?” I ask. “I was starting to get worried. It’s almost five.”
“We had a little party to celebrate the start of spring break last night,” he says.
“A party to celebrate the fact everyone is going to party?” I ask. “Oh, that’s right. It’s college.”
He laughs, and I feel a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry you’re missing Florida with all your friends,” I say.
“I’m not,” Evan says. “This is where I want to be.” He stops and smiles. “Especially since I got to sleep until noon, and the guys had to get up at 5:00 a.m. to drive.”
I laugh and open my arms. Evan hugs me tightly and then releases one long arm from around my back to check the unraveling Nantucket basket on the front door. His face droops.
“No sparklers,” he says, sounding just like a little boy again.
“Sorry, but I’ve been a little busy,” I say, nodding at the front yard, which looks like a construction zone.
“I know,” he says. “Habit.”