Excerpt of Summer Iris by M. Kate Quinn

The only time in my life that ever turned out like it does in the movies, of course, was now. Eddie put the key into the lock, gave it a good hard twist and it opened easy as pie. Sadly I didn’t have a pie on me, because the look he gave me deserved a pie to be tossed right smack in his face. As he handed the key back to me, he gave the keychain a look. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the key, which he did not immediately relinquish. “You’re welcome,” he said, then read the inscription aloud, “the voice of the sea speaks to the soul.” Then he gracefully placed the keychain into my waiting palm. I did not comment. “A special meaning of some kind?” he asked. Oh, brother. I am not getting into a lengthy discussion with him. “It’s just a message from a friend.” “Oh, a message from the friend that gave you the key?” “Yes,” I said as he stepped away from the doorway. “Well,” Eddie said with a devilish smile as he stepped off the front porch. “Tell your friend to spray that lock with a little WD-40 so it doesn’t stick when you want to open it.” Oh, I intended to talk to my friend all right. I could not wait to tell Yvonne that her birthday cottage came with its very own gorilla.