Free Forget Me Not by Coleen Paratore Page A

good,” Nana says, looking around the store for spies, rubbing her hands together, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Hit me with it.”
    “I was thinking…you know how you get those little messages inside fortune cookies and how much fun that can be?”
    Nana nods her head yes.
    “Well, what if we tied happy thoughts around the taffies, like they do around Hershey’s Kisses. Sort of add to the value of the purchase? Create a new candy buzz?”
    Nana claps her hands, all excited. “I like it!”
    “I can write the messages,” I say, “no problem. All you’d need to do is print them out and cut and—”
    “Brilliant!” Nana says, hugging me. “I tell you, Willa Havisham Gracemore, you’ve got good candygenes. Good book sense and candy smarts. Sweet Bramble Books will be yours someday.”
    Outside, I get on my bike, feeling proud that I can help Nana. I’ll start writing those taffy tags today. It’ll be fun.
    Passing the town green, I spot the dog from the beach. He looks up at me and barks and runs toward me like he’s been waiting for me. I keep biking.
    He’s following me.
    I turn the corner toward home and sure enough, the dog follows me up the driveway to the Bramblebriar Inn. I can hear him panting behind me.
    Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
    “Willa! Come say hello,” my mother calls to me. She’s sitting on the front porch with Katie Caldor, Mrs. Caldor, and four pretty girls, probably Katie’s bridesmaids, most likely going over last-minute wedding details.
    Mrs. Caldor is wearing a stunning pale blue sundress with a matching hat. The Caldors are known for exquisite taste in fashion. They own the chain of Caldor Creek clothing stores that started right here on Cape Cod.
    I start up the steps. I hear the dog following me.
    Go. Go away.
    “What a cute dog!” Katie Caldor says, and as if on cue, the dog bounds up to the wicker table, knocking over the pitcher of lemonade right onto Mrs. Caldor’s lap.
    She jumps up, horrified.
    “Oh, Vivian, I’m so sorry,” my mother says, peeling a lemon rind off of Mrs. Caldor’s beautiful dress. “Willa, run and get a towel and some club soda.”
    After the Caldors leave, I bring the dog a dish of water. He laps it up gratefully and then sprawls out under a shady tree, big brown eyes looking up sheepishly.
    “That’s the dog that defecated on the beach yesterday, isn’t it?” Stella says.
    “Mom, give him a break. He’s just a dog.” And then, I know she’ll say no but I always say you’ve got to be a leaper and so I take a leap: “Mom, do you think he could stay here for a while until we find the owner? I’ll make up signs and post them around town…”
    “Absolutely not,” she says. “In fact, please go askSam to call animal control or town hall or whomever one calls about these things.”
    “Mom, that’s not fair.”
    My mother lowers her voice as some guests walk by. “You heard me, Willa.”
    “But, Mom…”
    “No buts about it, Willa. I don’t want a dog traipsing through my inn.”
    My temper flares. “Well, it’s my home, too, and you better get ready for no mutts about it, because the Sivlers are opening up a pampered pet spa next door and dogs are going to be our new neighbors.”

CHAPTER 13
Salty from the Sea
Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.
    —Ralph Waldo Emerson
    I storm into the inn to look for Sam. He’s out in the vegetable garden.
    His eyes smile when he sees me. Sam is always happy to see me.
    I burst into tears and tell him what’s going on.
    “Well,” Sam says, taking off his gloves, “first let’s see this dog.”
    We walk out front to the big oak tree. The dog is sound asleep. Sam kneels on the grass beside him and gently pets the dog. The dog opens his eyes. He looks at Sam and then he looks at me.
    I pet him and he licks my hand.
    “What a gorgeous golden,” Sam says.
    “So he’s a golden retriever?”
    “Yep. I had one, growing up.”
    “What was your dog’s name,