Hattie smiled. “That’s not a bad idea.”
There was so much she could do and the infinite possibilities were exciting rather than daunting. Perhaps it was because she no longer felt alone with it. She had Claudia and Chloe, she had Erica and Lynda. Most of all she had Noah.
Her gaze met his through the glass and she saw something in his eyes that made her breath catch.
Without waiting to be told again she left the dining room, closing the door on the laughter and the celebrations. She grabbed her coat and stepped outside into the winter wonderland, appreciating the blue skies and the icy sparkle of fresh snow in the few seconds before Delphi spotted her. The child sprinted across as fast as she could, her movements restricted by her outdoor clothing. Hattie scooped her up and held her tightly and then Noah arrived and put his arms around both of them.
Hattie closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of him and feeling her daughter’s hair tickle her cheek.
The child and the man. Her present and her future.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Publishing a book is a team effort and I owe many people thanks. I’m grateful to my publishing teams CSP in the US, and HQ in the UK, for their dedication and creativity. I’m fortunate that the support they offer is not only for the book but also for me, the author. I couldn’t ask for a better publisher.
Thanks to my brilliant editor, Flo Nicoll, who makes every book better and does so with generous enthusiasm.
I’m grateful to my wonderful agent, Susan Ginsburg, Catherine Bradshaw and the entire team at Writers House.
To all the booksellers, librarians, bloggers, reviewers—thank you for championing my books. And to my readers, many of whom have read my work from the beginning, thank you for continuing to read my stories and for your encouraging messages. I love hearing from you.
Finally, to my friends and family for their unfailing support. You’re the best.
Keep reading for a sneak peek of USA TODAY bestseller Sarah Morgan’s next novel, coming this summer from Canary Street Press!
Upcoming Novel
by Sarah Morgan
Lily tightened her grip on the handlebars and pedalled harder. Here on the northern tip of Cape Cod while the rest of humankind were still sleepy and had barely reached for the coffee pot, she felt as if the place was hers.
All around her were sand dunes and the ocean stretching as far as she could see. She cycled this same route every day, and every day was different. Today the sky was a vivid blue, but she’d seen burnt orange, flame red and smoky silver.
It was a place favored by migratory birds and tourists and generally she preferred the first to the second. The day before she’d seen a blue heron and two snowy egrets. As far as she was concerned the fewer humans the better, but she owed her job to the influx of summer people so she wasn’t complaining.
She breathed deeply, letting the salt air fill her lungs and her mind. She felt free here on this windblown, sunbaked strip of seashore. For the first time in months she felt better. Stronger. As if she might survive after all.
She felt something close to happiness and then her phone buzzed and the feeling left her in a rush.
She pedalled faster, trying to outrun its insistent demand. She didn’t have to look to identify the caller. It was ten in the morning exactly. Only one person called her routinely at that time.
Goddamn it.
Guilt made her brake and she pulled over, breathless, and dug out her phone. If she didn’t take the call now, she’d be taking it later and the thought of it looming in her future would darken the skies of an otherwise cloudless day. This was the price she had to pay for living virtually off grid.
“Lily, honey? It’s Mom.”
Of course it was.
She’d been expecting this call, ever since she’d declined their invitation to come home and “talk things over.” Still, every time she saw her mother’s name pop up on her phone screen she felt sick. They’d made huge sacrifices for her, and she’d as good as slapped them in the face. And she hadn’t even given them a reason.
She was a bad daughter.
“I’m on my way to work, Mom. I can’t be late.” Never had dirty pots and pans and other people’s laundry seemed more appealing. She’d rather deal with that any day than talk to her parents. Every conversation left her so twisted with guilt she was almost convulsing. “Is everything all right?”
“No, it isn’t. We’re so worried about you, Lily.” Her mother’s tone was shaky. “We don’t understand what’s going on. Why won’t you tell us?”
Lily tightened her grip on the phone. “Nothing is going on, Mom. And you don’t need to worry.”
“Can you blame us? We have a bright, brilliant daughter who has chosen to throw away the life she worked hard for. And with no reason.”
There was a reason. She just hadn’t shared it.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Are you eating? Have you put on some weight? You were skin and bones when you left here.”
“I’m eating. I’m sleeping. I’m good, really. How are you and Dad?”
“We miss you, obviously. Come home, Lily. We can cook for you, and spoil you and look after you.”
She knew what going home would mean. She loved her parents, but they’d hover over her with frowning concerned faces until she ended up worrying more about them than herself. The pressure of pretending to be okay had been exhausting.
“I’m happy, Mom. I just need some space. It’s beautiful here. You know I always loved the ocean.”
“I know. I remember when you were six years old and we couldn’t drag you away from the sand castle you’d built.” There was a pause. “Honey, Dad made some calls. He thinks it’s not too late for you to go back to medical school if you want to.”
Interference, even well-meaning interference, should be designated a crime.
“I don’t want to. I know you and Dad are disappointed—”
“It’s not about us, it’s about you. We tried so hard to give you all the opportunities we didn’t have. We never wanted you to struggle the way we did.”
Lily stared at the ocean and tried to find her inner calm, but it had fled the moment the phone had rung.
They’d made huge sacrifices for her, and she’d thrown it in their faces. She wasn’t just a bad daughter, she was a horrible person.
“This is difficult for me too, Mom.” The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “I know I’m hurting you and I hate it, but this is where I want to be. And this is what I want to do. I want to be an artist.”
“But, Lily, you’re cleaning houses.”
“To earn money while I pursue my passion.” While she tried to loosen the knots of stress in her body and untangle the mess in her head. “There’s nothing wrong with cleaning houses. It’s a respectable way to make a living. You did it.”
“If I could have been a doctor, I would have been one.”
Guilt, guilt, guilt.