Spinning Forward. Terri DuLong
Spinning Forward
TERRI DuLONG
KENSINGTON BOOKS
This book is dedicated
to the memory of my mother,
Alma Leszczynski,
who gave me a love for reading.
And to the memory of my father,
Stan Leszczynski,
who passed on a love for words.
Acknowledgments
When I visited Cedar Key for the first time, in 1994, I knew I was in my element—surrounded by water and Mother Nature. But when I relocated there in 2005, my love for the town deepened because I found that it was the people who were the soul of the island.
The locals made me feel welcome and gave me a sense of belonging. I was inspired by their strength, their compassion for neighbors, and their love for family. Without them, my story wouldn’t have been possible, so I owe a huge debt of gratitude to each and every one.
A few in particular touched the writer in me. By sharing their own childhood stories, Cedar Key history, and island folklore, they unknowingly allowed my imagination to create a fictional story. My deepest thanks to Dottie Haldeman, Mary Rain, Frances Hodges, Rita Baker, Jan Allen, Beth Davis, Dr. John Andrews, Marie Johnson, Shirley Beckham, and so many others who enabled me to feel the true essence of Cedar Key.
Thank you to Alice and Bill Phillips, owners of the Cedar Key Bed & Breakfast—for your in-depth tour and enthusiasm for my story.
For Alice Jordan, my high school friend, I can’t thank you enough for renewing my interest in knitting, turning me into an addicted knitter, and always being a phone call away to answer any knitting questions. For Bill Bonner, my friend and writing partner, your belief in my work made the tough times easier. And huge thanks to both of you for reading this story and giving me your constructive advice and loyal support.
Thank you to my children, Susan Hanlon, Shawn, and Brian DuLong—for your love and enthusiasm.
Most sincere gratitude goes to my editor, Audrey LaFehr, for your professional support and for making my story a reality. And to the entire team at Kensington for bringing it all to fruition.
Thank you to my husband, Ray, who gave me wings to soar, encouraged my destiny, and has kept me airborne with belief in myself.
And to you, my reader—thank you for including me on your bookshelf.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
A READING GROUP GUIDE
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1
Whining drew my attention to the fawn-colored Boxer curled up beside the bed. Lilly had been my constant companion for four years and now she was my salvation. With my home, my assets, my life as I knew it taken from me, Lilly was my one factor of stability.
Living on an island off the west coast of Florida wasn’t something that I planned to be doing at age fifty-two. Twenty-eight years of marriage to a successful physician provided a lifestyle that I not only enjoyed, but took for granted. Okay, so maybe Stephen wasn’t the most passionate and romantic man on the planet, but he created a sense of security in my life. That is, until his Mercedes crashed into a cement barrier on I-495 in Lowell, leaving me a widow with no sense of direction and no knowledge of a secret he harbored.
Two weeks following his funeral, I had been working my way through the grieving process when I was zapped with another shock. I opened the door of my Lexington, Massachusetts home to find a sheriff standing on my front porch, knowing full well this wasn’t going to be good news. My first thought was concern for Monica, my twenty-six-year-old daughter.
“Are you Sydney Webster?” he’d questioned.
“Yes. Yes, I am. What’s wrong?” Despite the chill of the October day, beads of perspiration formed on my upper lip.
He’d cleared his throat and with downcast eyes passed me a large envelope.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to deliver this to you, but it’s a certified notice for your eviction.”
“My what?” I felt lightheaded and gripped the door frame.
“Eviction of premises. You have thirty days to pack up your belongings and vacate the house.”
I’d thought it was a joke. Somebody had seen Stephen’s funeral announcement in the paper and was playing a prank on me. The house had been paid for years ago. Nobody could just show up and kick me out of my own house. This didn’t happen to law-abiding citizens.
Clutching the envelope with sweaty palms, I’d torn it open and removed an official-looking piece of paper. All I saw was a blur of words, making no sense out of what was happening.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Webster,” he’d told me. “I really am. I’ll return in thirty days at nine A.M. to make sure your belongings are removed and obtain the house keys from you.”
“This is a mistake,” I babbled. “A major mistake.” Closing the door, I slid down the length of the wall, my sobs shattering the quiet of the house.
And here I was five weeks later on an island off the west coast of Florida. In a quaint but small room at the Cedar Key B&B, and I knew for certain none of it had been a mistake. Stephen’s secret vice of gambling and the events that followed were what had brought me to this small town of nine hundred