Edith Ashworth spent thirty years photographing other people's wars so she'd never have to face her own. A Pulitzer Prize, a shattered femur, and eleven postcards without a return address — that's what she has to show for a lifetime of running. Now, broken and out of options, she arrives on the doorstep of the only woman who ever made her feel real — the woman she left without saying goodbye three decades ago.
Winifred Harlow never left their small Vermont town. She never dated again. She built a life of books, solitude, and a dignity so practiced most people mistake it for peace. She kept every postcard. She kept the photograph Edie took of her, laughing in a summer garden. She kept the door open — and she'll never admit it was for Edie.
When a thunderstorm, a kitchen floor, and three decades of unspoken love collide, these two women must is it too late to step into the frame of your own life? A luminous, deeply sensual second-chance romance about the courage it takes to stop documenting the world and finally live in it.