PROLOGUE

STOMP THE INTRO

SUMMER 2019

NORA PERCHED ON A WICKER LOVE SEAT, ON THE BACK patio of her daughter's house, steam curling from her cup into the early spring air. The garden was quiet—until it wasn't. Nora tucked a silver-nearly-white strand of hair behind her ear. Inside, there appeared to be an argument brewing between Anne and her teenage daughter, Ellie.

While it was probably inappropriate to smile, Nora couldn't help doing so. At Ellie's age, she and her own mother had had a few knock-down, drag-out fights over stupid things like boys, length of skirts, and music. And later, she'd listened to Anne stomp off just the same. Time softened the edges, but it never dulled the echo.

She leaned toward the window, snooping, because at her age, a little drama always provided a bit of a thrill.

"Why not?" Punctuating the ever-present why was the stomp of a foot.

Nora tsked. Didn't Ellie know by now—at seventeen—that stomping one's foot was simply silly? And with Anne, a prosecutor for the state, that it would get her nowhere?

Anne's words were muffled through the window, no doubt spoken in the calm, cool, collected manner she'd used since she was two and made a very sound argument to her mother about why she should be allowed to stay up later than her usual bedtime. And it wasn't because she wasn't tired; it was because if she'd gone to bed on time, she wouldn't have been able to warn the cow not to jump over the moon—he'd break his legs on the fall down to earth.

Nora had agreed and let her stay up an extra ten minutes.

The argument grew louder, their voices trailing closer, and then Anne was out on the back porch, arms crossed over her slim chest, tapping her foot in impatience, and Ellie stood beside her looking very much like a younger, identical version. Their raven-colored hair reminiscent of Nora's beloved late husband.

"My, what have I done to warrant the wrath of my two favorites?" Nora worked hard to hide her smile.

"She wants to go to that Woodstock revival concert with her friends—camping and all! Mother, please tell Ellie she can't go." Anne rolled her eyes as if the idea was offensive.

"It's not even that big of a deal!" Ellie's voice cracked. "Everyone else's parents said yes."

Nora cocked her head, staring at Anne. Had her daughter really forgotten about Nora's epic summer adventure in the summer of '69 when she'd gone to Woodstock herself? From the confused look on her face, apparently, she had. "No."

"See," Anne said, gesturing toward Nora. "Your grandmother said no."

Nora chuckled. "Oh, Anne, I meant no I won't tell her she can't go."

Anne's mouth fell open. Nora was certain to get a lecture later about allowing Anne to parent on her own, but then she'd remind Anne—again—that inviting Nora into the debate came with consequences. Not every argument needed a witness.

"Mother!" Anne's voice held a warning edge.

"I'll take her," Nora said with a firm nod, eager to enjoy the evergreen sounds of rock and roll, to relive that amazing summer that had changed her life.

Anne's eyes practically bulged. "You can't take her to Woodstock; that's crazy. Don't you remember what happened in 1999, the last time they tried to revive that festival?"

Nora laughed a little louder, spilling droplets of tea until Anne took her cup and set it on the cedar table. Woodstock 1999 had been an utter disaster, that much was true. But maybe this time around, the organizers had taken a few pointers from Lilith Fair in the '90s, which had been all about hope and comradery, well, and female empowerment. Nora and Anne had gone to the Lilith Fair show at the Jones Beach Amphitheater in celebration of Anne's recent law school graduation, and Nora still had a picture of them, smiling with Sarah McLachlan singing on stage in the background, taped to her refrigerator twenty years later. A snapshot reminder of who they were.

"What is so funny?" Anne demanded.

"Oh, Anne, my darling girl, have you forgotten what I told you about your great-grandmother?"

Anne narrowed her eyes, and Nora could practically see her rolling through the files she kept alphabetized and in chronological order in the coils of her brain.