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Prologue
Dorothy Summer couldn’t understand young people nowadays.
Or at least, those in their twenties and thirties who seemed adrift, wondering what to do with their lives. They wanted fortune. Or they wanted fame. But they didn’t seem to have any idea what to do to earn fame or fortune, or, more importantly, how to satisfy their soul.
Dotty, on the other hand, did. She had a bucket list, and, by golly, this seasoned widow was going to spend her days checking things off. She’d already made good on several items, including driving an air boat through the Everglades, dating a younger man, and singing a Broadway tune with one of its stars.
She had some of her granddaughters to thank for that, specifically, the daughters of her son Tim. Those five young women weren’t tempted by fame or fortune. They had purpose when it came to their careers. Kitty, the doctor. Maggie, the veterinarian. Lily, the state politician. Aubrey, the botanist. Violet, the literature professor. If only one of them would give her a great-grandchild. When Dotty was older and less mobile, she wouldn’t mind sitting and rocking a little one.
But before that, there was her bucket list. And currently on the top of that list was being a model for a famous designer.
And that was why Dotty was following fashion designer Xuri out of Lily’s engagement party and into the gardens of Tim’s Hamptons property. She was on a first name basis with the designer because of private showings. “Xuri, do you have a moment?”
The elegant young woman stopped and executed a runway pivot that her fashion models would have envied. She wore a pair of baggy black and white striped pants with a super-skimpy top—what looked like a Bedazzled bullet bra.So daring!Hoop earrings the diameter of a mixing bowl hung from her ears. She had short purple hair that was in the spiky bed-head style young folks seemed to favor. And her expression was haughty. In fact, Xuri seemed poised to yell,“Off with their heads!”
Dotty fingered the traditional string of pearls around her neck. “Are you hiring? Models, that is.” All Dotty’s life, she’d had more luck cutting through, than beating around, the bush. “I have the body type you’re looking for.” Dress size two. Dotty struck a pose. Too bad she was no taller than a horseracing jockey. Runway models tended to be much taller.
“You would model for me?” Xuri asked in her formal, slightly accented speech. Her eyebrows were sprinkled with tiny dots of silver glitter. She waggled them in what Dotty thought was amusement, sparkles catching the Hampton afternoon sunlight like moonbeams on cresting ocean waves.
“I would.” Dotty came closer, feeling overdressed in her party attire. “Your winter coat collection was fabulous this year. And the way the models came down the runway during Fashion Week was so fun.” They hadn’t strutted. They’d bopped.
That praise earned Dotty a small smile, seemingly reluctantly given. “My models are dancers first.”
“I can bust a move with the best of them.” And to prove it, Dotty struck another pose, this one from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. She thrust her hips forward and back so hard her lower back twinged, causing her to spasm. “I-eee-eee!”
Xuri reached out a hand to steady Dotty, numerous brass bracelets bangling. “You have moves. But my dancers do hip hop.”
“I can hip hop.” Dotty had no idea what hip hop was. But she was determined to learn.
Xuri’s sparkly brows caught the sunlight again, practically blinding Dotty this time. “I will send you a coat.”
“And I will learn hip hop,” Dotty said gleefully. “Please send the coat here as I’m spending the next few weeks here with my granddaughter.”
A white horse galloped past, nearly as blinding as Xuri’s eyebrows since it had no halter, bridle, or saddle to mar its snowy appearance.
They both stared at the riderless horse for a moment, it not being a usual sight in the Hamptons.
“We need to make a wish,” Dotty told Xuri as the horse galloped across the backyard toward the ocean. “White horses are a sign of good luck. Like a four leaf clover or a rainbow.”
“I wish you good health.” Xuri returned to the party, black and white striped pants billowing in the ocean breeze. She paused at the door to call over her shoulder, “And I will send you a coat!”
Chapter One
Professor Violet Summer was happy with the direction of her life.
When she told that to her younger sister Maggie, who was a jilted bride, Maggie laughed.
They were behind their parents’ Hamptons house where their sister Lily’s engagement party was being held. They walked toward the beach, each with a drink in hand. Maggie held a bottle of beer. Violet held a glass of sauvignon blanc. They sat down in the sand and stared at the ocean, squinting in the summer afternoon sun.
“How can you be happy? We’re the last two single sisters standing.” Maggie sipped her beer, short black hair tousled by the ocean breeze. “We need to find men and soon, regardless of whether or not we’ve been burned and broken-hearted in the past.”
“Count me out. I’m up for tenure this year at Harvard,” Vi told her. She’d climbed the ladder from assistant to associate professor over the course of six years. And now, a full professorship was within reach in year seven. “I have classes to plan for, academic papers to write, and a book on Shakespeare to publish.” A book she needed to finish this summer. “If I don’t make tenure, I’ll be let go.”
Every waking moment needed to be devoted to achieving a permanent position at the prestigious university. Vi’s entire identity was now wrapped up in the endeavor.
“My short-term goals aren’t so lofty. I’m looking for a man to take to Kitty’s wedding.” Maggie removed her sandals and pushed her bare feet in the sand. “You know her engagement to Beck is inevitable. And since I used to be engaged to Beck, my date needs to be someoneextra.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Vi sipped her wine as a particularly loud wave crashed on the shore, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to attend another Summer family event dateless. The afternoon heat beat down on her. Vi tugged her blue silk tank top away from her damp back and smoothed out the wrinkles in her sand-colored linen slacks, wishing she wore cotton shorts and a T-shirt. And then she looked at her youngest sister. “What do you mean byextra?”
