Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 Read Free

my book sales as much as I was about book readers and those soldiers in the army of the written word who braved the elements to open their stores so the customers could swim in. It was intense. I just want to say thank you in the most serious way to all of you. You know why, and I regret all the many inconveniences caused by the weather and my inability to whip it into submission. Talk about a rough tour? Thank God, I’m a May book this time! And believe me, I will come to every store I can and sign books for you until I can’t sign any more. More than anyone, I owe you all the most, and I know I can never repay you for your support except with my respect and admiration. And you have that for sure. Hugely.
    Especially Patti and Avery and all the team at Barnes & Noble in Towne Centre in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. I still miss Buzzy, but he’s alive and well in Queens! Hooray! And the amazing team at the Waldenbooks in Charleston. And all the grand folks at Bay Street Traders in Beaufort and I could go on and on to the High Point Literary League and the Hilton Head Women’s Club, and SEBA, and all the Friends of the Library organizations who asked me to come and run my mouth. Are you kidding me? These people are better than family when it comes to support!
    Speaking of family, I’ve got a big and gorgeous one to thank. First the obvious cast—my sister and brothers. Huge thanks to Ted and Joanne Benton of Winchester, Massachusetts, Mike and Jennifer Benton of Irving, Texas, Bill and Pat Benton of Mount Pleasant, South Carolina—thank you for loving me and asking your friends to read my work. To my only sister, the unbelievable Lynn, and her truly incredible husband, Scott Bagnal, of Edisto Beach, South Carolina, you know how I feel about you and how deep this river runs. But most of all to Peter, Victoria and William, who truly are the lights of my days and nights—never doubt that I love you with my whole heart.
    Victoria? She’s away at college. Honey? Are you wearing a sweater? Let me tell the world this: there’s no one like Victoria Frank. She is beautiful, passionate, brilliant, talented and fall-down funny. And she supports me like crazy when the going gets tough.
    William? He’s finally a little taller than his father, smarter than anyone in the house and the kind of superbly intelligent young man who can become anything he wants. I don’t know a teenage boy with a bigger or more beautiful and loyal heart.
    And before closing, another word on loyalty. Debbie Zammit, who came blasting from my past to help me write a book each year, is the best kind of friend a girl could have. Some know that Debbie and I once thought we ruled the world of acrylic sweaters in the garment business in New York. Without nitpicking, talk about lofty aspirations? Um, that’s a yarn joke. Ah, well, point is, this book never would have made it to print this year without her. So, Debbie? I owe you and I thank you profusely for everything.
    So shoot me. I’m sentimental and don’t care who knows it.

PROLOGUE
    P EOPLE have secrets. Everyone does. And, at one point or another, many people say they would like to run away and start life over in a place where no one knows their business. I know that I have felt that way. More than once. And I am no stranger to disaster, and most certainly no one would ever call me a coward. Coward or not, sometimes you just want to slip away into the night.
    What drives us to that point? Did you do something horrible? Or, did something horrible happen to you?
    Maybe you just feel like you need some anonymity. You have endured all the questioning, opinion-giving and gossiping humanity you can bear. It’s time to strip away everything, all the clutter and noise, and look at your life, how it got to that point and figure out what you intend to do about it. At least, that’s how it was for me.
    When my tragedies occurred and getting through the days felt like pulling a wagon of bricks that was