Jerry Whitcomb has always believed in the proper organisation of things.

For forty years, he applied this philosophy to tax returns, client portfolios, and the arrangement of his legendary sock drawer (colour-coded, naturally). Then his wife Anna—irrepressible adventurer, terrible driver, and the only person who could make him climb mountains—extracted one final promise before cancer took her: finish the Seven Summits. Stand on top of Denali.

Eighteen months later, Jerry finds himself trudging up Alaska's highest peak, carrying her photograph over his heart and wondering if keeping a promise is the same as knowing why you're keeping it.

What do you want, Jerry? Not what she wanted. What do you want?

The Seventh Summit is a novel about grief and mountains, about promises kept and promises transformed, about two men finding unexpected friendship in the thin air of impossible altitudes. It is about learning to live after loss—not by forgetting, but by discovering that the people we love become part of who we are, woven so deeply into our being that they can never truly leave.

Warm, witty, and quietly devastating, this is a story for anyone who has ever loved someone, lost them, and wondered what comes next.

"Go climb that bloody mountain. And then come home and live."

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