The Summer of Good Intentions Read Free

close last summer!). And maybe the twins would master the backflip. In the top kitchen drawer of the summer house, Maggie kept a spiral notebook for recording just such milestones and funny quotes from the kids, updating it each July. The first summer the twins rode their bikes without training wheels! Lexie swam out to the jetty and back. Luke walked across the kitchen all by himself! She’d always meant to transfer the scribbles to an electronic file, but there was something pleasing about seeing first her handwriting and then the girls’, their tilted capital letters giving way to more precise lowercase, then loopy cursive. On the front, Sophie had scrawled, The Book of Summer .
    Maggie was looking forward to catching up with her sisters, maybe playing a few rounds of poker or gin rummy. And thank goodness Arthur and Gloria were coming for separate weeks this year. After a tense summer last July when everyone tiptoed around them both, the wounds of the divorce still raw, Maggie had made certain that her parents were slotted for different weeks this time. Maggie McNeil at your service! she had thought, as she toggled back and forth between them on the phone. Let me pencil in your reservation!
    She followed the soft curves of the bike path, the sun warming the back of her neck. Sweeping ferns lined either side, and every so often a honeysuckle or a cape rose poked its head out. Maggie threw her hands in the air like a child and shouted, “Heeeello, summer!” No one was around. She could be carefree and thirteen again. How she’d imagined this feeling a thousand times, nurtured it as if it were her own exquisite orchid, in the depths of winter. The thought of the Cape house was the only thing that made Boston winters bearable, with loads of laundry to do and the kids climbing the walls. Just wait, she’d tell herself. Before you know it, you’ll all be back at the summer house .
    Eventually, the dirt path turned to pavement and wound past the charming post office (white with blue trim), the town library, an ice cream shop, a handful of quaint shops, and at last, Sal’s Market. Maggie leaned her bike against a post. Like everything else in town, Sal’s looked more or less the same and still sported its cherry red door and gray cedar shingles.
    When she swung open the screen door, four tidy rows of supplies greeted her along with the smell of basil and an assortment of freshly picked produce, including fat, gorgeous blueberries and strawberries the size of walnuts. She gathered up a wire basket, threw in two pints of berries and a clutch of basil, and began combing the aisles for the items on her list. She pulled a carton of farm eggs and milk from the refrigerated section, then headed to the deli and fish counter. A small line had formed and Maggie took her place behind a woman in a faded pink sundress and floppy straw hat. Probably a year-rounder, she thought wistfully. When it was her turn, she stepped up and grinned at Sal, who was busily wiping the counter. A white deli hat sat perched on top of his sandy curls, and his butcher’s apron already reflected a swift morning’s business. When he glanced up and saw her, his face beamed.
    â€œMaggie, girl! Welcome back! I was wondering if you all would get in this week.”
    She tugged a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She loved that Sal never failed to make her feel like a pretty teenager all over again. “Thanks, Sal. It’s good to be back. You know we wouldn’t miss July down here if we could help it.”
    â€œI always know it’s summertime when the Herington girls are back. The whole gang with you?”
    â€œYou bet.” Maggie eyed the specials on the blackboard behind him: STRIPED BASS; BLUEFISH; SCUP; TUNA; HADDOCK; HALIBUT; COD .
    â€œWell, you’ll have to bring those gorgeous girls by the store. And Luke! How old is he now?”
    â€œJust turned five,” Maggie confirmed.