Back True to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (35)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. Contents
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Epilogue
  32. Acknowledgments
  33. From the Author: The Story Behind the Story
  34. READERS DISCUSSION GUIDE
  35. About the Author

Quinn gave her one. “I think you’re already a princess, Alani. And guess what? Your mom can be the queen.”

Maria met her gaze, gratitude beaming from her now-moist eyes. She clasped her hands to her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I promise this will work out.”

Quinn hoped so. If it didn’t, she’d have to prepare herself for the worst “I told you so” lecture yet.

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Quinn finished unpacking her suitcase, stacking her clothes on the love seat of the cottage until she could ask Maria for hangers. Her mother’s ashes were placed on the nightstand, an attempt to make the house less lonely. It was weird that she was even there unpacking. But as usual, it was easier to give in than to say no.

She’d taken her time going back to the hotel and checking out, hoping she’d figure out a way to wiggle out of the arrangement without making things worse.

But nothing had come to her, and she finally had to return to Maria’s home—no . . . her own home—and settle in. The small guesthouse was just that—small. But it was enough for her. Only four hundred square feet, it made her think of the tiny house shows all over television, a new fad sweeping the mainland. It seemed that people everywhere were becoming tired of dragging along too much stuff—physically and emotionally—and opting for new lives free of clutter to live in teensy homes that were barely bigger than a toolshed.

She could see the draw, too, and had binged on the tiny house episodes, thinking how freeing it would be to walk away from her fancy too-modern condo and start somewhere new, just a suitcase of belongings in her possession. A simpler life.

Now she was getting to test it out, whether she wanted to or not. Coming from the mainland, she supposed what was a completely foreign concept of inviting a stranger into your home was just normal in a place where hospitality was the core of the culture.

For such a small space, everything she needed was provided. In addition to a tiny bedroom, the guesthouse—or cottage, which she felt described it better—boasted a living area, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. The whole interior was decorated simply, in a style that continued the island theme: strong bamboo furniture with flowery cushions that begged to be snuggled into with a good book.

Outside was a cozy porch, or lanai, as they called it in Hawaii, boxed in by tropical trees and plants, including a banana and a lime tree where she could sit with a cup of coffee and have privacy from the main house.