A New York Times best-selling author releases her first southern novel, a Steel Magnolias-meets-Sweet Home Alabama story set on St. Simons Island. When an unthinkable loss sends Tara Abbott's life spiraling out of control, she journeys from North Carolina to Georgia's St. Simons Island. Although confused and scared, she hopes to find answers about her past - her life before the years of foster care and raising her two half-brothers as a young adult. Will she find steady ground on the island, surrounded by an eccentric-but-kindhearted group of older women called The Glynn Girls and a determined firefighter? Or will the truth splinter what's left of her identity into pieces? CINDY WOODSMALL is a New York Times and CBA best-selling author of eighteen works of fiction and a non-fiction book. Coverage of Cindy's writing has been featured on ABC Nightline and the front page of the Wall Street Journal . She lives outside Atlanta with her husband, just a short distance from her two sons and grandchildren. 1 July 2, 2005 The canvas painting on the wall called to Tara as she walked back into the kitchen, this time her arms filled with rock-climbing gear. She set everything on the table and went to the painting. Once again her heart beat faster, and whispers from a past she didn’t remember haunted her. It was the sole remaining object from her childhood. The day social services arrived at the trailer to take her away, Tara begged to take the painting with her. After all, it had been given to her…maybe. The painting was of a lighthouse, beach, and ocean, as if the artist’s view was from the ocean. Deep red and gold reflected off the water as though it was depicting sunset, or maybe sunrise, but those colors were usually brighter and lighter. That painting and the woman who painted it seemed connected to Tara somehow. At the bottom the artist had signed it “To my Spunky Boo ~ Love you, Nana.” Tara had no recollection of anyone named Nana, but she did recall her mom calling her Spunky Boo at times, so the artist either knew that or also called Tara that. As a child abandoned to the foster care system by a drug-addicted mother, she liked to daydream that someone somewhere loved her. A noise from the bedrooms in the small apartment pulled Tara from her thoughts. Why was she marinating in old hurts? After months of working two jobs, she had the entire day off, and she would not spend another second thinking about sad things. She sat in a kitchen chair and put on her athletic shoes. She’d restocked the grocery store shelves until midnight, so she’d slept late. As good as that felt, she knew the best part of the day was still ahead. Her gear was spread across the small table: dynamic ropes, various sizes and shapes of carabiners, and a climbing pack with power snacks and water. Her TomTom was on the table too. It had nothing to do with climbing mountains, but it got her to the agreed-upon destinations to gather with other climbers. “Oh, thank goodness.” Hadley’s voice carried down the short hallway. She stepped into the kitchen, wearing a robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. “I smell coffee.” “Tara,”—Elliott was behind her, already in her hospital uniform—“please never quit your job at the grocery store.” Her roommates made a beeline for the coffee maker. Hadley and Elliott had worked second shift last night and then stayed for some overtime hours, so they’d slept in later than Tara. “The good news is we have coffee.” Tara picked up the TomTom and began entering the address of today’s destination. “The bad news is we only had enough money for either coffee or milk, not both.” “As always, T,”—Hadley put the mug to her lips, closed her eyes, and took a sip—“you made the right decision.” “Yeah,” Tara scoffed, “it’s almost as if I’d spent years under the same roof with you two while growing up or something.” Hadley and Elliott chuckled. The three of them had shared a foster home for several years. That’s when the feeling of sisterhood began, and even though Hadley and Elliott had quit high school and run off to work and live in Georgia until they were legal adults, they had continued the bond with Tara through phone calls and emails, so very many calls and emails. Tara shoved the TomTom into her backpack. “Be sparing with the sugar. It doesn’t go on sale until next week.” Maybe when they had college degrees, they’d make decent money, but for now they eked by on minimum wage jobs, sharing the bills and saving every penny for their education. Tara had graduated high school a couple of months ago, and with some help from the state, she’d begin college this fall, although she was unsure what her major would be. Was there a degree that could mix her two favorite things: food and outdoor life? Hadley and Elliott knew what they wanted degrees in, but right now they were working toward getting their GED. “Oh, this came for you yesterday.” Elliott pulled a letter out of the pocket of her scrubs. Tara took it from her. “A real lette