They have nothing in common—except a need to start over…

The drawback to having a picture-perfect life is that there’s nowhere to go but down—and Annalise Haverford is falling fast. Once, she was the self-proclaimed queen bee of Magnolia, North Carolina. Now her husband has been arrested for fraud, and she’s become an outcast in the shallow circles she used to rule. There’s only one affordable rental in town, and it’s owned by the woman Annalise got fired from a lucrative job.

Much as single mother Shauna Myer would like to refuse Annalise, who treated her like dirt on the bottom of her red-soled shoe, she needs that rent money. But when Shauna’s first love arrives in town, unraveling secrets she’d hoped to keep, Annalise becomes her unlikely defender. Meghan Banks, an elementary school art teacher whose quiet existence suddenly descends into chaos, is thrown an unexpected lifeline by Annalise, too.

As spring ripens into a sultry summer, the three spur each other on to share their fears and dreams, face new challenges, and seize second chances. Because no matter how turbulent life may be, it’s much easier to navigate those choppy waters when you’re buoyed by true friendship…

Excerpt

“Your card has been declined.”

“That’s impossible. Run it again.”

Annalise Haverford, of the Charlotte Haverfords, she used to proudly tell people, swallowed down the embarrassment that threatened to choke off her ability to breathe. She’d managed to hold her head high in the face of far worse trials than a defective credit card machine or a teenager who didn’t know how to work it.

“Ma’am, I’ve tried it twice now.” The girl handed the card back to Annalise. It was heavy—platinum because that was the most exclusive membership level available to her—but the weight and prestige were no comfort right now. Not when a crumpled ten-dollar bill would have done the job with far less struggle. “Do you have another card?”

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

Annalise automatically put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Just a moment, sweetheart.”

“I want a cookie now, Mommy.”

Annalise glanced down at the eight-year-old girl’s head. Margo’s hair was starting to darken at the roots, just as Annalise’s had when she was that age. She’d been in third grade, just like Margo, the first time her mother had taken her to the salon for highlights.

Carolann Fluk had insisted that her only daughter would succeed on the beauty pageant circuit and had been convinced Annalise would do better with sun-kissed highlights than as a dishwater blond.

Despite her mother’s efforts, Annalise hadn’t made it through more than a handful of competitions before even Carolann admitted that her daughter didn’t have what it took to make it as a beauty queen.

Unlike her mother’s, Annalise’s smile wasn’t perky enough, and she had no real talent despite endless piano and voice lessons. There were some things that couldn’t be overcome with training, and Annalise’s lack of coordination and tone deafness fell into that category.

She eventually found other ways to make her mother proud, habits she carried into adulthood and had passed on to her daughter. Until a few months ago, she hadn’t cared that most people considered Margo a brat.

Annalise had encouraged her daughter’s precociousness and sense of entitlement, falsely believing those personality traits went hand in hand with confidence.

She’d encouraged a lot of things that were coming back to bite her in the tush—the habit of not carrying cash was proving to be one of them. Cash was dirty, and the way regular people—those without platinum cards—paid for purchases. Too bad germ-laden dollar bills weren’t the worst way money could be dirty.

Who would have thought that a skinny latte, strawberry lemonade and cookie order at the local bakery in Magnolia, North Carolina, would be what finally brought Annalise low? Moisture pooled under the arms of her silk blouse, but she smiled benignly at the barista.

“I don’t have another card with me.”

The young girl furrowed her brow as if the words didn’t make sense. “We take cash,” she said and pulled the two drinks that sat on the counter between them closer to her side.

“Mommy.”

“Hush, Margo,” Annalise whispered. “Well, this is a bit of a quandary.” A sense of amusement she didn’t feel colored her tone. If she didn’t think she’d be overplaying it, she would have added a “fiddle-dee-dee” into the mix like she was channeling her inner Scarlett O’Hara.

What a shame she had no Tara to retreat to and the windows of the house she was due to move out of by the end of the week had plantation shutters for blinds. She could have used some curtains for repurposing.

“I just need to run over to the bank and straighten things out,” she told the guardian of her order. “I’ll return with the money in a jiffy.”

The girl rolled her eyes with such precision, Annalise wondered if she’d been practicing the gesture in the mirror. Either way, the barista had definitely heard the promise before.

“I’ll keep your drinks to the side.”

“Or we could take them with us,” Annalise suggested, giving the girl her own practiced stare, the one that had cowed dozens of volunteer committees into doing Annalise’s bidding over the past decade. “I’m a longtime member of this community. You can trust me.”

There was a cough that sounded more like a muffled swear word behind her, and she turned to see her former best friend, Everly Mae Tinsdale, standing a few feet away. Certainly close enough to have overheard the entire exchange with the girl behind the counter.

Unlike Annalise, who was by this time dripping with anxious, sticky sweat as she shoved her useless credit card into her designer purse, Everly Mae appeared to have stepped out of the salon minutes earlier. Maybe she had.

What day of the week was it anyway?

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Michelle Major loves stories of new beginnings, second chances and always a happily ever after. An avid hiker and avoider of housework, she lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains with her husband, two teenagers and a menagerie of spoiled furbabies.