Mary Alice Monroe, I am deeply appreciative of your generosity and wisdom. When you read my manuscript the first time, you told me to give Laudie a story. When you read it a second time, you circled moments of tension and wrote, “hit this hard.” And when you read it a third time, you wrote a beautiful and heartfelt endorsement. You also showed me the power of the tribe. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
To the other women of the tribe. Nathalie Dupree—the Grandest Damest in all the Landest! We miss you in Charleston. To the nuclear-powered Marjory Wentworth, thanks for cheering me on. Thank you, Sandra King Conroy, for the exquisite blurb and for being possibly the sweetest person on the planet. Patti Callahan Henry, I met you the evening you spoke on Becoming Mrs. Lewis. We sat at Mary Alice’s dining room table, and while we were supposed to be celebrating you, you asked me, “How can I help?” When you got a call from a certain special someone at HarperCollins looking for a new southern voice, you, Mary Alice, and Signe said, “Gervais.”
Ah, Signe Pike. I’m a total fangirl (blush). Thank you for opening up your home and your heart to me and my family, and especially for nudging me to think of my study as a sacred space. You bring magic to my life.
And to the rest of my ladies in the Mango Club—Melissa Falcon Field, the day we met, you offered to review my manuscript. Who does that?! And Meagan Gentry—thank you for coaching me on the legal parts of the book. You’re a badass attorney and I’m so excited for you to make the transition into the writing world.
Lauren Sanford, thank you so much for sharing your art expertise and for introducing me to the Kit-cat Club. And to the eternally cool Jessica Murnane—thank you for your support and interest in my career transition. One day, we’ll have that lunch date. (And, by the way, I’m now up to Two Parts Plant.)
Ann Close—thank you for sharing your lifelong knowledge of publishing. You are an exceptional coffee date. Thank you, Kate Bullard Adams, for not holding back. Will Breard, Maggie David, Carolyn Matalene, Jennifer Wallace, and Aunt Susan Gaillard—thank you for reading earlier drafts—I hope you’ll be pleased with the way this book turned out.
Thank you, Sarah Mae Ilderton. You were right, that’s how he would have done it. And to Beth Gavin for getting us all together; you’re the glue. Thank you, Katie Crouch, for being so kind as to share your literary contacts. I also want to thank my dear friend (and national treasure), Samar Ali. Samartime, you’ve been inspiring me since 1999.
Thank you to my whip-smart agent, Kristyn Keene Benton—you’re a next-level connector. I look forward to working on many more projects with you. Plus, I just like chatting on the phone and hearing Charlotte coo in the background, so let’s do that, too. Thanks also to Cat Shook. You had me at “Waffle House.”
I want to take a moment to thank Anne Rivers Siddons, an elegant and graceful southern lady who was possessed of a masterful storytelling mind. I miss dinners at her home, where, in her big red-rimmed glasses, she served us hearty soups, her Maine Koon cats rubbing against our legs.
And Patricia P. McArver—my guardian angel. You went out of retirement again to take over The Citadel Public Speaking Lab so I could pursue my dream. Thank you for your leadership and friendship. I love you!
Momunit. Babs. Babulous. Barbarella. Glama. Barbara G. S. Hagerty. Mom. You’ve read this book at least six times and you still pick up after the first ring to answer my questions about everything from syntax to formal evening wear. Thank you for always believing in me. Every child should be so lucky.
To my siblings. Hart, you reminded me, “leap, and the net will appear.” It did. More than your advice, it’s your example of living that gave me the courage to jump. And Curry, the marketing mastermind, I’m so grateful for a confidante who says what she thinks. Sorry about the bugs. To Richard, thanks for helping me keep the creative juices flowing by letting me collaborate with you on your songs. Let’s get that tattoo.
And to my dad, Richard Hagerty, who showed us that you can earn a living in the day, be a serious artist at night, and start a band in retirement. Rock on, Dad.
I’m so grateful to Dottie Benton Frank. She wrote stories about the Lowcountry that captured her reader’s hearts and imaginations. She also hooked her editor, Carrie Feron, on stories about the South, which, in a way, sent her searching for me.
Carrie, there are many writers who search their entire lives for an editor like you. I won the literary lottery. Thank you for your guidance, for showing me how to think of my story in a new way. Thank you also for your patience—I realize many of my ideas for book titles and covers were outlandish. Even when you end up saying no, you consider the thought, and that means a lot to me. You also laugh at my jokes, perhaps the greatest gift of all. Keep sending texts of zinnias and Dash and your life up North. And be sure to book that trip to Charleston because I adore you and want to give you a giant, in-person (not virtual) hug.
To the business savvy bibliophiles at HarperCollins—Liate Stehlik, Jennifer Hart, Ryan Shepard, Emily Fisher, and Brittani Hilles—I’m thrilled to be on your team. Thank you, Asanté Simons, for fielding all of my questions. I need lots of specific direction, as you know. To Andrea Monagle, the copyediting whiz. You healed Simons’s toe (otherwise, as you pointed out, she should have gone to see a doctor). And even seventh generation locals don’t know it’s called “White Point Garden.”
Thanks to the locally owned businesses in Charleston that fueled my writing: to The Works and CPY—all those chaturangas boosted my energy and the wheels have helped me revert the hunch in my back from years of bending over a keyboard. And cheers to the neighborhood coffee slingers, Harbinger and Huriyali (Jade, here’s your shout-out :o)
Finally, I want to thank my little family. To Sofia, at five, my bright, curious, critical thinker—your love of books will take you far. And Miro, my charming, witty three-year-old who already thinks out-of-the-box: may you always do things your own way. And my husband, Anthony—top chef, bass player, bearded mustachian, beer brewer, superman composter, sailboat racer—you make every day easy and fun. I love you.
And lastly, I want to thank my grandmother, Aggie Street: the flower gardener who inspired this novel. I miss you. I love you, and I hope I made you proud. Every spring, I plant zinnias.