Chance Harbor
Authors: Holly Robinson
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF HOLLY ROBINSON
Chance Harbor
“Oh, the sneaky wonder of
Chance Harbor
by Holly Robinson. This book has the heart, intrigue, and secrets of Shakespeare but is written with the sensual prose of our time. If you are looking for a book that surprises all the way through, this is the book for you.”
—Ann W. Garvin, author of
The Dog Year
“
Chance Harbor
is a genuine, moving portrayal of the intricacies of relationships between sisters, mothers, and daughters. Robinson’s skillful storytelling, smooth pacing, and vivid characters combine to show us that no matter our secrets, misgivings, and mistakes, compassion is the most precious human virtue. A truly authentic, engrossing story.”
—Sonja Yoerg, author of
House Broken
and
The Middle of Somewhere
Haven Lake
“Robinson . . . handles numerous plot threads deftly, alternating between her characters with finesse . . . The ending provides an enjoyable, but not pat, resolution to many of the issues faced by the characters. Fans of Barbara Delinsky and Diane Chamberlain will enjoy this moving family drama.”
—
Booklist
Written by today’s freshest new talents and selected by New American Library, NAL Accent novels touch on subjects close to a woman’s heart, from friendship to family to finding our place in the world. The Conversation Guides included in each book are intended to enrich the individual reading experience, as well as encourage us to explore these topics together—because books, and life, are meant for sharing.
Visit us online at penguin.com.
“
Haven Lake
is an emotionally charged novel about love, loss, and the intricacies of modern family. Robinson weaves a plot so poignant you won’t be able to put it down.”
—Emily Liebert, author of
Those Secrets We Keep
and
When We Fall
“The relationships in this story are multifaceted and deep, and readers are continually engaged as the layers are revealed. This is a poignant novel that leaves readers thinking.”
—
RT Book Reviews
“In
Haven Lake
, Holly Robinson expertly depicts the ways in which we hurt the ones we love most, and our propensity for forgiveness. Real and raw, the characters stayed with me long after the last page was turned.”
—Lorrie Thomson, author of
What’s Left Behind
and
Equilibrium
Beach Plum Island
“Robinson masterfully paints the portrait of a damaged family in the quake of a tragedy, struggling to put the pieces back together again. Each sister is sensitively drawn, their individual dramas meticulously rendered . . . a thoughtful exploration of the fragility, and the tenacity, of the ties that bind.”
—T. Greenwood, author of
Bodies of Water
“Holly Robinson is a natural-born storyteller, and her tale . . . will keep you turning those pages as she quietly but deftly breaks your heart.”
—Yona Zeldis McDonough, author of
You
Were Meant for Me
“Robinson tugs at your emotions. . . .
Beach Plum Island
is a triumphant family saga filled with heart and hope. I couldn’t put it down!”
—Amy Sue Nathan, author of
The Glass Wives
“[An] absorbing, bighearted novel.”
—Elizabeth Graver, author of
The End of the Point
“Robinson uses
Beach Plum Island
to explore the conflicts that can surface between brothers and sisters, half sisters and half brothers, and stepsiblings when divorces rip families apart and remarriages attempt to weave them into a new fabric.”
—
The Daily News of Newburyport
(MA)
“A family novel with plenty of emotional punch.”
—
Concord Monitor
(NH)
The Wishing Hill
A
Ladies’ Home Journal
Great Summer Read
“Many readers will surely glimpse themselves in this vivid, compassionate novel.”
—Margot Livesey, author of
The Flight of Gemma Hardy
“Who and what make us who we really are? In Robinson’s luminous novel of buried secrets, she explores how the past can jump-start the future, how motherhood can be more than genetics, and why finding yourself sometimes depends on discovering the truth in others.”
—Caroline Leavitt,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Is This Tomorrow
“A novel that sings: of love for a child, loss and regret for a life, and the quiet triumphs of survival and finding each other again.”
—Susan Straight, National Book Award nominee for
Highwire Moon
and author of
Between Heaven and Here
“A story about love, loss, secrets. . . . I loved this book.”
—Maddie Dawson, author of
The Stuff That Never Happened
“With equal parts compassion and honesty,
The Wishing Hill
explores love, redemption, and forgiveness . . . an easy and engaging read.”
—Michelle Xiarhos Curran,
Merrimack Valley Magazine
“Robinson’s first novel sparkles with warmth and wit. . . . compelling.”
—
Booklist
“A good beach read for those who like to reflect on the complexity and messiness of family relationships.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
ALSO BY HOLLY ROBINSON
The Wishing Hill
Beach Plum Island
Haven Lake
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY
Published by New American Library,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
This book is an original publication of New American Library.
Copyright © Holly Robinson, 2015
Conversation Guide copyright © Penguin Random House, LLC, 2015
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
New American Library and the New American Library colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
For more information about Penguin Random House, visit penguinrandomhouse.com.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Robinson, Holly, 1955—
Chance harbor/Holly Robinson.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-698-17065-0
1. Domestic fiction. I. Title.
PS3618.O3258C48 2015
813’.6—dc23 2015017405
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
For my husband, Dan, who keeps my heart, mind, and belly so very happy.
For our children—Drew, Blaise, Taylor, Maya, and Aidan—
who teach me the meaning of the word “adventure” with everything they do.
And for Mom: You are still, and always, my best reader and cheerleader.
C
atherine’s cell phone rang at ten o’clock. She fumbled for it on the table beside her and answered despite not recognizing the number. “Hello?”
It was her niece, Willow. Her voice was a whisper, thrumming with fear. She had to repeat herself twice before Catherine understood her.
“Mom told me to call you after her bus left,” Willow said. “Can you come get me? Please?”
Willow was at South Station in Boston. Alone.
Catherine yanked a coat on over her pajamas. She’d been downstairs watching television; her husband, Russell, was already in bed. She imagined the furious conversation she’d have with Zoe tomorrow, when her sister decided to return from whatever oh-so-exciting party or man had called her away:
On what planet is it okay to leave your ten-year-old daughter alone in Boston at night? In a bus station? Even you should know better!
Catherine didn’t wake Russell before plunging into the chilly night. She charged down the porch steps and out to the car before realizing she was still wearing slippers. She didn’t turn around.
She ran two red lights driving from their house in Cambridge to Boston, making the trip to the bus station in record time despite construction on the BU Bridge.
In South Station, she swept the lobby with her eyes, heart hammering. It was nearly empty. A pair of businessmen waltzed by with briefcases, their shoulders stiff as coat hangers beneath their suits. A woman in a flowered jacket passed, hand in hand with two children, walking so fast that the smallest boy was lifted right off his feet. Homeless people were draped across the benches like forgotten blankets.
Finally, she spotted Willow. Her niece was huddled in one corner of a wooden bench, a backpack at her feet, her pale hair a knotted spiderweb over her black fleece jacket.
Catherine kept her voice calm. “Hey, sweet girl,” she said. “What are you doing staying up so late, huh?”
Willow started to cry. “I didn’t know what to do, so I called you like Mom said. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. You did the right thing. Don’t cry. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.” Catherine bent low over Willow, turning to glare at the vagrant woman camped closest to her niece until the woman slid off the bench and loped off, her hat pulled low.
What might have happened if she hadn’t come to get her? What if she’d been on call at the clinic tonight? Or, God forbid, what if she and Russell had taken up Mom’s offer to spend the week at Chance Harbor?
“Where’s your mom, honey?” She brushed a strand of hair out of Willow’s eyes.
“I don’t know. She told me to sit here and wait for you.
Without moving.
” Willow’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t move the whole time. I promise. Can we go now? I’m tired.”
“Absolutely.” Catherine took Willow’s small, cold hand in hers, and thought,
Goddamn you, Zoe. I’m going to kill you when I see you.
Of course, she didn’t know yet that her sister had disappeared.