A Most Puzzling Murder

Title:  A Most Puzzling Murder: A quirky, humorous locked room murder mystery with riddles and puzzles for the reader to solve

Author:  Bianca Marais

Publication Information:  MIRA. 2025. 480 pages.

ISBN:  0778368602 / 9780778368601

Rating:   ★★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley and a publisher's blog tourfree of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "Destiny Whip warily eyes her bedside table, thinking how it could easily be mistaken for a miniature graveyard, what with all the little pills neatly lined in staggered rows, positioned upright like tiny headstones."

Favorite Quote:  "She wonders why finding your way to your truest self, and then fully embracing and accepting it, is always the most difficult journey of all."

***** BLOG TOUR ***

Review

The subtitle of this book reads, "A quirky, humorous locked room murder mystery with riddles and puzzles for the reader to solve." All things I love - quirkiness, humor, mystery, riddles, and puzzles. Add to that a reclusive, genius main character named Destiny Whip. Add to that a mysterious letter and an atmospheric remote island in a nebulous geographic location but with a family castle. This book has all the makings of a fun adventure.

This book reminds me of the children's books in which you "choose your own adventure." In fact, the reader's introduction to the book references that it is a choose your own adventure book. The fun of these books is their interactive nature and the choice - the thought that as the reader, you are perhaps driving the story. In reality, you know that all the eventualities have already been created by the author. Yet, that feeling of being in control of the story impacts the experience. Eventually, I go back and read all the possible combinations - all the choices. This adds the element of more choices and do overs - something many of us would wish for in real life. 

Given that some of the puzzles involve graphics, I am not sure how different formats for the book would work. The author's website provides a PDF of the puzzle, but have to do that would interrupt the flow of the book. I am not sure how an audiobook would even work especially to follow the different threats out of the puzzles. That being said, the Kindle version worked fine, linking back and forth between puzzle, solution, outcome, next chapter. It was fun. That being said, I am not sure the answers to any of the individual puzzles really impacted the outcome of the book at all. It goes back to the reality that the author has already created all the possibilities. Nevertheless, it was fun to travel along and a nostalgic nod to my childhood reads.

I have now read three books by the author, and each has been completely different. Hum if You Don't Know the Words was about the harsh reality of life in South Africa. The Witches of Moonshyne Manor is about five octogenarian witches whose lives and home is threatened. This one is about mystery and adventure. Each book features strong female characters but in completely different settings and situations. I look forward to seeing where Bianca Marais goes next.

About the Book

Interspersed with riddles and puzzles that both Destiny and the reader must solve, A Most Puzzling Murder is a one-of-a-kind mystery that will leave you guessing and gasping until the very last page!

Destiny Whip is a former child prodigy, world-renowned enigmatologist and very, very alone. A life filled with loss has made her a recluse, an existence she’s content to endure until a letter arrives inviting her to interview for the position of Scruffmore family historian. Not only does an internet search for the name yield almost nothing, it’s a role she never applied to in the first place!

She decodes the invitation's hidden message with ease, and its promise to reveal her family secrets proves too powerful a draw for the orphaned Destiny, who soon finds herself on Eerie Island. It’s a place whose inhabitants are almost as inhospitable as the tempestuous weather. The Scruffmores themselves turn out to be not much better, a snarled mess of secrets and motives connected by their mistrust for one another.

Their newly arrived guest proves to be just as much an enigma to them as they are to her. While Destiny slowly works to unravel the mysteries hidden throughout the ominous castle, she struggles to interpret disturbing nightly visions of what is to come. In the midst of cryptic ciphers, hidden passages, and the family’s magical line of succession, Destiny is certain of two things: one of the Scruffmores is going to die and she’s running out of time to stop it.

About the Author

BIANCA MARAIS cohosts the popular podcast The Shit No One Tells You About Writing, which is aimed at helping emerging writers get published. She teaches creative writing through the podcast and was named a winner of the Excellence in Teaching Award for Creative Writing at the University of Toronto’s School of Continuing Studies. She lives in Toronto, where she loves playing escape-room games and writing about strong female protagonists.

  

Excerpt

Excerpted from A Most Puzzling Murder by Bianca Marais, Copyright © 2025 by Bianca Marais. Published by MIRA Books.

CHAPTER 1
Destiny
Sunday, 9:57 a.m.

Destiny Whip warily eyes her bedside table, thinking how it could easily be mistaken for a miniature graveyard, what with all the little pills neatly lined in staggered rows, positioned upright like tiny headstones. It certainly feels as though she’s regarding the burial ground of her hopes and dreams, haunted by the specter of the enormous potential she’s so dismally failed to live up to.

When you’re declared a child prodigy, everyone expects you to go far in life, but all Destiny has managed today is a slow shuffle to and from the bathroom. Even that required Herculean reserves of energy.

Balancing her laptop on her knees, she reaches to the farthest side of the bed for her emotional-support urn, pulling it close and tucking it into her armpit as though cuddling a teddy bear. She kisses the top of the teardrop shape, the metal cold against her chapped lips.

Bex appears in Destiny’s doorway, leaning her head against the frame. “Good morning.”

Her best friend is still too scrawny, but not nearly as emaciated as she was a year ago when all she feasted on was beauty magazines and models’ Instagram pages rather than anything resembling food. Bex looks mostly healthy again, her long chestnut hair gleaming, the hollows of her cheeks no longer reminiscent of sinkholes.

“You okay?” Bex asks, the corners of her mouth turned down.

It’s the anniversary of the accident today, one year somehow crawling by on scraped knees.

Some people act like severe depression is a tarnish, one that can be polished off with the application of enough elbow grease. Luckily, Bex isn’t one of them.

Destiny tries to speak, but a knot of regret is so tangled up in her throat that the words don’t stand a chance.

Her laptop suddenly squawks with an incoming video call. In the months that Destiny has been seeing Dr. Shepherd, they’ve never once had a virtual consultation over a weekend. But today is going to be a tough one, which is why the psychiatrist insisted on the appointment.

As the ringing continues, Destiny gently places the urn beside her and instinctively reaches for her notebook before paging to the list of tasks the doctor assigned last month.

Bex sidles up next to her, reading over her shoulder.

1. Leave the apartment once a day to go for a walk or grab a coffee.

2. Reach out to an old friend or colleague to suggest a meetup.

3. Replace all the dead plants.

4. Keep a dream journal about the white-haired ghost woman.

5. Email the council expressing your wish to return.

6. Accept one of the consultancies that you’ve been offered (one that doesn’t require travel).

7. Work on forgiving Nate.

8. Limit your interactions with Bex.

Bex side-eyes the last item on the list. “Rude,” she huffs. “You’d think I was a bad inf luence or something.”

Rather than answering Bex or the incoming call, Destiny thinks of how she’s never f lunked an assignment in her entire life. Always top of her class, and despite being admitted to university as a twelve-year-old, Destiny cannot fathom this degree of failure.

She’s ticked nothing off the list, not even throwing away the plants whose shriveled corpses goad her, their untimely deaths undoubtedly due to the curtains constantly being drawn tight. That, and Destiny forgetting to water them.

The laptop’s ringing grates on Destiny’s nerves, but she can’t force herself to answer and face Dr. Shepherd’s disappointment. It will be carefully concealed, of course, with the psychiatrist gently pointing out there’s always next week, or the week after that, to achieve these seemingly simple goals. But it doesn’t matter how much of an extension Destiny is given.

It’s no use.

For how can she possibly cut ties with Bex, who’s her dearest, not to mention only, friend?

Plus, there’s no way the Council of Enigmatologists will take her back after she’s been AWOL for so long. Each time an envelope drops through the mail slot, Destiny fully expects it to be a letter informing her that they’ve completely revoked her membership. It hurts to remember how thrilled she was to be appointed president of the prestigious group just thirteen months ago, and how she, Bex, and Nate all splurged on a fancy dinner to celebrate.

When the call finally drops, Bex exhales, a long whoosh of defeat. “I know I shouldn’t enable you with all the talking, but it’s not like I can call anyone on your behalf.”

They both look down at the wallpaper on the home screen of Destiny’s laptop.

It’s a photo that was taken thirteen years ago when Destiny was eight. In it, her mother’s arm is f lung across Annie’s shoulders, happiness radiating from the two best friends in waves. Destiny’s eyes fill with tears as she studies her mother’s straight black hair and pale skin, and those enormous glasses obscuring most of her face.

Jutting her chin at Destiny’s mother, Bex murmurs, “I wish I’d known Liz.”

Destiny nods before turning her attention to Annie, with her striking Afro and beaded shoulder-duster earrings, and her smile as bright as the sun.

The image was captured two weeks before Liz died. A year later, the paperwork went through to officially make Annie Destiny’s second adoptive mother. Their deaths were a wrenching loss, a tearing in the fabric of Destiny’s being that she never quite stitched back together.

There were times in the before when Destiny experienced the sting of loneliness, that awful yearning of the one forever stuck outside, nose and palms pressed against the cold glass, gazing in at what belonging looked like: foreheads bent together, raucous laughter elicited by inside jokes, sentences finished by those who knew you best.

But this is not loneliness, in the same way that a drop of water is not a deluge, the way a sigh is not a hurricane.

“I’m so sorry that you’re having such a rough time of it,” Bex says, reaching out to tuck a f laming red curl behind Destiny’s ear. She freezes upon seeing Destiny’s expression, her hand hovering like a ghost between them. “A year is a long time, though, and Dr. Shepherd is right despite the fact that she clearly has it in for me. You need to move on.”

God, that Bex is apologizing to her, of all people, when everything that happened was Destiny’s fault.

“No, I’m sorry,” Destiny says, her voice pulled so taut that it snaps. Seeing the pills all standing to attention—no longer a cemetery full of headstones, but rather an army ready to fight the last battle—Destiny reaches for the urn again, stroking it like a security blanket. “If you stop talking to me, Bex, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Not gonna happen,” Bex replies breezily. And then more firmly she says, “Okay, it’s tough love time. You seriously need to shower because you’re stinking up the place. Plus, the kitchen needs cleaning. Those take-out containers have grown thumbs. I swear I caught them trying to hitch a ride to the nearest primordial swamp.”

Destiny laughs at how incredibly bossy Bex is.

Especially for a dead person.

Still, it’s reassuring that no matter how much has changed, some things stay exactly the same.

Buy Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Most-Puzzling-Murder-humorous-mystery/dp/0778387690
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-most-puzzling-murder-bianca-marais/1146847363
Bookshop: https://bookshop.org/p/books/a-most-peculiar-tale-indeed-original-bianca-marais/21435438 
Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/9780778368601 
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-most-puzzling-murder 
AppleBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/a-most-puzzling-murder/id6501987778 
Google Play: https://books.google.com/books/about/A_Most_Puzzling_Murder.html?id=rbs7EQAAQBAJ 
Libro.FM: https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9781488233814-a-most-puzzling-murder 
Indigo: https://www.indigo.ca/en-ca/a-most-puzzling-murder-a-quirky-humorous-locked-room-murder-mystery-with-riddles-and-puzzles-for-the-reader-to-solve/9780778368601.html 
Target: https://www.target.com/p/a-most-puzzling-murder-by-bianca-marais/-/A-93112360 
Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/A-Most-Puzzling-Murder-A-Quirky-Humorous-Locked-Room-Murder-Mystery-with-Riddles-and-Puzzles-for-the-Reader-to-Solve-Paperback-9780778368601/5560832578?classType=REGULAR&from=/search

Social Links

Author website: https://www.biancamarais.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/biancamaraisauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/biancam_author/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/biancamarais_author/

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The American Daughters

Title:  The American Daughters

Author:  Maurice Carlos Ruffin

Publication Information:  One World. 2024. 304 pages.

ISBN:  0593729390 / 978-0593729397

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "... in grasping my pen and putting my hand to page, I felt as though I existed for the first time."

Favorite Quote:  "I was the property of no one save myself. Therefore, I could freely give of myself to those I loved, no?"

The title reminds me of the organization Daughters of the American Revolution. I am not sure the author intended for the connection to be made, but nevertheless it comes to my mind. Much has been written and researched about the Daughters of the American Revolution. The group is still active. The only qualification is to be able to trace lineage back to the patriots of the American Revolution.

The American Daughters of this book are similar in a fight for freedom. They are the revolutionaries rather than descendants of revolutionaries. Other than a similarity in name, they couldn't otherwise be more different. The book is based on a history of resistance amongst slaved and free women of color in pre-Civil War New Orleans. The book puts forth a secret group of spies with a character at the heart of it who was the author's ancestor.

One of the reasons I love historical fiction is that it introduces me to history I may not otherwise have learned or read about. However, when I go to research this history, very little is to be found. Basic research states that no such organization existed. So, this fiction may be taking the actual passive and active acts of resistance and put them into this fictional context. I won't say embellishing history because the resistance was and is real. However, perhaps, it is history with more of an artistic license that other historical fiction may take.

In that, this book is a great reminder that historical fiction is fiction first. It is important to not take it as history but to do your own research to separate fact from fiction.

History aside, the story is an interesting one with one main repeating theme. The phrases "slave labor camp also called a plantation" and "open-air prison also called a plantation" and other similar monikers repeat throughout the book. The vision is a brutal one and perhaps more true to the history than anything else in the book. However, the repetition of the entire phrase over and over again becomes somewhat stilted.

This is what I will remember from this book, more than the characters or even the plot. Perhaps, that is the intent successfully accomplished. Unfortunately, it makes the reading of the book challenging at times. I am reminded of the elementary school reminder of "show don't tell" in a story. This story does show as well, but the "tell" repeats as a refrain overshadowing everything else.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

Supercommunicators

Title:  Supercommunicators: How to Unlock the Secret Language of Connection

Author:  Charles Duhigg

Publication Information:  Random House. 2024. 320 pages.

ISBN:  0593243919 / 978-0593243916

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "If there was one thing everyone knew about Felix Signal, it was that he was easy to talk to."

Favorite Quote:  "... listening means letting someone else tell their story and then, even if you don't agree with them, trying to understand why they feel that way."

Reading a book on communication is a double edged sword. On the one hand, many of us read and receive training on the topic - in school, on the job, through self-education, and through experience. Thus, reading another book about the ideas can sometimes feel like it rehashes the same thoughts and skills. On the other hand, our modes of communication may have changed, but human nature has not. Individual needs to be heard and understood remain constant. As such, even though the concepts of such a book may not be new, reading another's interpretation of it and another packaging of it can sometimes teach me something new - a new way of looking at the same thing. For that nugget of truth, a book such as this proves its value.

This book is structured around three kinds of conversations:

• "What's this really about conversation?"
• How do we feel conversation?"
• Who are we conversation?"

The first may be practical. The second is emotional. The third is about identity. The concern with this structure is that is any conversation truly about only one of these facets or is it always a mix of all three? Likely the latter. However, perhaps, it can be understood that the primary focus of the conversation may just be one.

The book set out four conversation rules:

• Rule one:  Pay attention to what kind of conversation is occurring.
• Rule two:  Share your goals, and ask what others are seeking.
• Rule three:  Ask about others' feelings, and share your own.
• Rule four:  Explore if identities are important to this discussion.

Again, the ideas are not new. Think listening triangle. Think Stephen Covey's "Seek first to understand, then to be understood." Think about many other books and articles that have been written about this topic.

Beyond the ideas are the stories the author uses to anchor the framework to situations. As may be expected, some I relate to. Some I do not.

What I love best about this book is actually captured in its subtitle. Communication is about connection. Particularly, as communication shifts to media that are remote and electronic, connection remains at the heart of it. That reminder is the lesson I will take.

As with other books such as this, I will take what works for me and leave the rest. Your value will vary based on what you bring to it.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

The Book of Doors

Title:  The Book of Doors

Author:  Gareth Brown

Publication Information:  William Morrow. 2024. 416 pages.

ISBN:  0063323982 / 978-0063323988

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "In Kellner Books on the Upper East Side of New York City, a few minutes before his death, John Webber was reading The Count of Monte Cristo."

Favorite Quote:  "Happiness is not something you sit and wait for. you have to choose it and pursue it in spite of everything else. It's not going to be given to you."

A bookstore. A librarian. A magical book. Those who, at first, do not understand the power of the books. Those who wish to use the magic of the books for their own purposes. A main characters whose life seems to be passing by. "Don't waste your life hidden away in your own mind. Make the most of the time you have, otherwise before you know it, you'll have no time left."  Until now.

This book has a setup that has been done before. This book has so many characteristics that appeal to a bibliophile reader. I love books about books and am predisposed to picking a book with a description such as this one. Add to that the intriguing promise of this magical book. "any door is every door. You just need to know how to open them." The story then goes even further with the idea that there is not just one book but a whole series of them. Each one grants its owner a special ability, and yet, this one surpasses them all. I open the door to this book and walk right in.

Cassie Andrews lives a quiet, humdrum life. She is a bookseller in a local shop. She shares an apartment with her friend Izzy. Then, a customer - one of Cassie's favorites - dies in the shop. He leaves behind a book. Not just any book. A magical book. At first, the book is a joy - the ability to open a door or reopen a door considered forever lost in our lives is an appealing one. However, doing so comes at a price.

Cassie and Izzy are thrown into the world of intrigue and are now in the sights of those who want this book. As this is an old conflict, there are sides. Drummond Fox appears as a librarian, educating Cassie on the provenance of the book and what happens if it falls into the wrong hands.

There are skirmishes, adventures, and escapes as Cassie attempts to keep the book safe. I go right along, enjoying the ride. That being said, be warned that the ride gets violent at times, and at times, I feel like I have been on this ride before. Magical book, time travel, good guys, bad guys, and so on. I nevertheless love the premise.

The Book of Doors is a debut novel. I look forward to seeing what the author does next.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

The Backyard Bird Chronicles

Title:  The Backyard Bird Chronicles

Author & Illustrator:  Amy Tan

Publication Information:  Knopf. 2024. 320 pages.

ISBN:  0593536134 / 978-0593536131

Rating:   ★★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "These pages are a record of my obsession with birds."

Favorite Quote:  "For birds, each day is a chance to survive."

Amy Tan is an award winning author. This book is a departure from her prior work. From the author's website... "In 2016, Amy began taking nature journaling classes with John Muir Laws. During the pandemic shutdown, she spent long hours observing the behavior of wild birds in her backyard. Her editor, Dan Halpern, suggested she turn those pencil sketches, colored portraits and journal notes into an illustrated book, The Backyard Bird Chronicles, published in April 2024 by Knopf."

From interviews with the author about why this project came about when it did: Amy Tan is of Chinese American heritage, born to immigrant parents. In her words, in 2016, racism in our nation was rampant, and she was the target of that racism because of her heritage. "The world was ugly, and I needed to find beauty again."

The idea of nature providing beauty, comfort, and solace is one that resonates with me. Although I am not a birder per se, the idea of retreating into nature for calm and peace resonates with me. The lesson and reminder to us to be good stewards of our world resonates with me.

For me, long walks and discovery of all our local parks became a survival mechanism during the pandemic. The author's birding adventures continued during the pandemic. That being said, she has the luxury of a home in the San Francisco hills with a view of the bay, a large garden, a wall of windows, and the means to create a green roof. That is not most people's reality, but it is a lovely reality to share.

As the title suggests, this book - the words and the images - are all about birds. If that is not your thing, you may not be the reader for this book. The book is structured into short, date and time stamped entries, each focused on a particular sighting.

The goal of this book is not to relate the descriptions and illustrations to humans. It is not to anthropomorphize the birds. Nevertheless, the journal entries do ponder bird behavior - the adult birds and the caretaking of young, the competition amongst like birds and between species, the impact of environmental changes on the lives of birds, the communal reaction to a bird in distress, the lifecycle of birds, and so much more. Each one of these ideas has relevance to the human world.

Of course, fiction or nonfiction, Amy Tan's writing and her ability to draw me into this world of birds and keep turning pages makes this a memorable book.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

Acts of Forgiveness

Title:  Acts of Forgiveness

Author:  Maura Cheeks

Publication Information:  Ballantine Books. 2024. 320 pages.

ISBN:  0593598296 / 978-0593598290

Rating:   ★★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "Marcus Revel was willing to trade the illusion of his sanity to keep his home."

Favorite Quote:  "Because sometimes you have to go where you're not wanted in order to change people's minds."

Philadelphia - the original capital of our nation.

Change has come. A woman serves as the United States president. The Forgiveness Act is being considered. If passed and signed. If signed, the legislation would provide up to $175,000 in reparations is a family can prove that they are descended from slaves. The nation is watching.

The author anchors this discussion in the life of Willa Revel. Long ago, she gave up a career to help the family business. She is a single parent to a daughter. She has always put her family before herself. "It was one thing to feel like your sacrifices were worth it but another to feel like you sacrificed for nothing. Was it possible to be a good person if you were always resenting the sacrifices you made to be good." The passage of the act would mean acknowledgement. The money could mean staying out of bankruptcy.

The questions this book raises are important ones that go well beyond this book:

• Can reparations ever compensate for the horrors of slavery?
• Is the thought of reparations merely to assuage the guilt of those who consider themselves representative of the enslavers?
• Can trauma inherited through the generations be remedied by monetary reparations?
• From a pieces of legislation called the "Forgiveness" Act, is forgiveness possible?
• What does forgiveness means?
• How do you put a value on the loss?
• How do you prove a family line?
• How do you prove a family line when
• people were bought and sold?
• birth records were not kept?
• a child's birth was recorded as property rather than parental lineage?
• ownership rights extended into rape and fathering of unacknowledged children?

And so many more.

What grounds this book and makes it work for me is that it is not a philosophical essay on these topics. In fact, many of these questions are not and, I don't think, can be resolved in a book such as this. To me, a packaged fictional resolution would undermine the questions. 

Instead, this is very much the story of one woman and one family. It is about a search for the past and the complicated history it reveals. It is about learning where we come from and separating it from where we are going. It is about understanding. The questions and the search will stay with me for a long time.

This book is a debut novel. I look forward to reading more from the author.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

The Phoenix Crown

Title:  The Phoenix Crown

Author:  Kate Quinn & Janie Chang

Publication Information:  William Morrow Paperbacks. 2024. 400 pages.

ISBN:  0063304732 / 978-0063304734

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "'A rose by any other name,' someone quote, and Alice Eastwood was hard-pressed not to roll her eyes."

Favorite Quote:  "Well, maybe she was tired of being good. Maybe she wanted to play the game for once, and play it for all she could get."

On Wednesday, April 18, 1906, Northern California including the San Francisco bay area was hit by a 7.9 magnitude earthquake. In the aftermath of the earthquake, massive fires broke out all over the city and lasted for days. Over eighty percent of the city was destroyed, and over 3,000 people died.

This story begins about 2 weeks before the earthquake.

Four women:

• Suling - a young woman in the city's Chinatown trying to avoid a forced marriage.
• Gemma - an opera singer looking for her friend and a new start.
• Nelli - Gemma's friend who seems to have disappeared.
• Alice Eastwood - a botanist. This character is based on an actual historical figure. The real Alice Eastwood was a botanist and is credited with saving part of the plant collection of the California Academy of Sciences during the 1906 earthquake and the ensuing fires. Nothing much survived beyond what she saved. 

One man - Henry Thornton.

One legendary artifact - The Phoenix Crown, an antique from Beijing's summer palace. The phoenix crown actually are called fengguan, and they historically are "hats" or crowns worn by Chinese brides and noblewomen. 

These lives meet and intersect. Plans are made. Alliances are forged. Betrayals happen. There is an incidental love story. It seems there for the sake of being there, not central to the main story of the book.

Then, the earthquake happens, and Henry Thornton disappears along with the crowns.

Five years later, in 1911, the crown reappears. The mystery and the dresire for revenge, retribution, and more brings these characters to a finale crash.

The story introduces each characters and their backstory. It takes a while for the connections to form and for the reader to see the threads come together. The historical setting - the city before, during, and after the earthquake - really comes to life. I can "see" it and feel as though I am walking those streets. 

This book is part historical fiction and part thriller and mystery. The history give the book its vivid color. The female characters draw attention to the challenges faced by women at that time and in that place. The mystery and the chase give the book its pace. The pace definitely picks up more later in the book as the story fast forwards five years. 

Overall, a fun read. This is my first book by these authors. I will likely look for more.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

Redwood Court

Title:  Redwood Court

Author:  Délana R. A. Dameron

Publication Information:  The Dial Press. 2024. 304 pages.

ISBN:  0593447026 / 978-0593447024

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "My grandpa Teeta says I am the second and last daughter of Rhina, who is the only daughter of Weesie, who was the first daughter of Lady, who is the secret daughter of Big Sis, who was born to Sarah, who came from Esra, the adopted daughter of Ruth (who adopted her because Esra was a salve and was sold without her mama, but the story was Esra's mama had thirteen children depending on who asked and depending on if you counted those unborn or born dead)"

Favorite Quote:  "... the future and the joy and risk and pain are worth it if our generation experience a greater freedom than we're allotted."

Redwood Court is a story of a time and a place. Redwood Court is literally that - a cul-de-sac in an all-Black working-class suburb of Columbia, South Carolina. The main character is Mika as she grows up in the 1990s surrounded by family and their stories. The stories trace the history and reality of any family - the love, the loss, the joy, and the drama. Through this particular family, the book also portrays the history of being black in America, particularly in the American South. The fact that the reader sees these through the eyes of a child growing up in the 90s adds an additional layer as she navigates her childhood and also create an interesting perspective of the history embedded in the adult stories. As an adult reader, I read between the lines of what Mika sees to the deeper concepts that lie beyond.

The story is of history and community, much more character driven than plot driven. The place - Redwood Court - is as much a character in the book as the people. The history and the communitiy feels authentic. Redwood Court comes to life. I can see it full of real people, love, laughter, tears, conversations on the porch, and community coming together. The stories and the characters cover multiple generations and the history - spoken and unspoken - that surrounds them. It picks up on the everyday details of life, that help create a painting of this family and community. 

Being character and history driven, the story is a slow and quiet one. While that may be the goal, that also keeps it from engaging me emotionally. Sometimes it is too quiet and too focused on time and place. I want more story. Perhaps, I want more focus on any of the myriad story lines rather than having them all seem to fade into the bigger picture. I want more of an anchor in a character's story. The fact that the story also jumps back and forth in time makes this more of a challenge as well. Being time and place driven, the book also just ends. There is not truly a conclusion because the point is not a plot to be concluded.

That being said, I am glad I read it. It made me think and reflect on American history and on the bonds of family and community. It made me walk through my own memories of the "Redwood Courts" of our family history and all the stories they hold.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

The Book of Fire

Title:  The Book of Fire

Author:  Christy Lefteri

Publication Information:  Ballantine Books. 2024. 336 pages.

ISBN:  0593497279 / 978-0593497272

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "This morning, I met the man who started the fire."

Favorite Quote:  "There is something about stories that allows us to process the present. We listen to tales of tribulations overcome so that we might imagine we can survive ours. Children listen to the same fairy tale time and time again because there is a puzzle in their hearts that they unknowingly need to solve."

A small Greek village. An idyllic life. A fire. Life forever altered. An opportunity for retribution. A fateful, life altering decision. Life beyond with its challenges, its guilt, and its hope.

The book tells the story through Irini's eyes and, more importantly, the story of her thoughts. They meander through life before the fire, the fire, her decisions, and her coming to terms with that decision. Through Irini, the author offers commentary on global issues - climate change, global warming, the impact of development on the environment and the communities surrounding the development, and more. "We live in a world where we can have anything we want, and some people have learned not to accept no for an answer. Consequences mean nothing - they've probably never had to really face any. I am of a different generation, and you have a good, sensible head on your shoulders, but Mr. Monk... Well, what can I say? All greed and no kindness. Unfortunately, that gets you somewhere."

Pain and grief are the central themes of Irini's thoughts. Tasso's hands are burned, which causes physical pain and the emotional pain of being deprived of his artistic passion and livelihood. Tasso's father is missing. Chiara has significant burns, and, as we learn well into the book, is unable to walk without crutches. A child, whose name means Joy, is anything but joyful. Irini's pain comes not just from the suffering of her family but from the decision she makes when she meets the man responsible for the fire. The book is a tragic one. "Things are never as simple as they seem, always remember that in life. It is dangerous to see things in black and white, even  - and maybe especially - during troubled times... Each side hates the other because of memories and traumas on both sides, some are ready and some are imagined, and these become national narratives. They demonize each other. The 'other' is always to blame and it fuels people and groups and governments with fire. This never leads to any good on this earth."

Because of the perspective, the book has the feel of a personal journal - an individual's musings as they try to process their own thoughts and emotions and to puzzle through and understand the situations they find themselves. The challenge of this perspective is that we process iteratively - thinking about something, stepping away from it, thinking again, often over and over again. Irini does the same. As a result, the book appears to repeat itself at times. It makes sense given the set up but presents a challenge as a reader because the pacing becomes very slow. I feel the emotion of the story but walk away, wanting more.

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.

The Amalfi Curse

Title:  The Amalfi Curse

Author:  Sarah Penner

Publication Information:  Harlequin Trade Publishing / Park Row. 2025. 336 pages.

ISBN:  0778308006 / 978-0778308003

Rating:   ★★★

Book Source:  I received this book through NetGalley and the HTP Books Summer 2025 blog tour free of cost in exchange for an honest review.

Opening Sentence:  "Signor Mazza:  We have not formerly made each other's acquaintance, yet I pray you will take very seriously what I have to say."

Favorite Quote:  "All we're promised is now."

***** BLOG TOUR *****

Review

The beautiful Amalfi coast overlooks overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Gulf of Salerno. The village of Positano climbs the hills above grottos, caves, and sea that lies below. The entire coastline has been deemed a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Thousands, if not millions, of tourists flock there every year for its beautiful setting, its history, and its Mediterranean climate.

This story acknowledges that natural beauty but then goes beyond that to what lies beneath the surface of the water and the secrets the hills hold. "If people can't explain something logically, they'll resort to legends. The supernatural. Magic. Gods."

 This two time period story brings to light the secrets of Positano and the waters that surround it. Witches, pirates, scoundrels, historians, and treasure hunters are all to be found in the story. 

In 1821, Mari is a streghe del mare, a sea witch, descended from a line of witches dating back centuries. In Italian mythology, these witches are connected to the sea, with spells and incantations allowing them to alter the currents, the water, and the storms. In the story, Mari is a reluctant witch as, to her knowledge, the sea has robbed her of those she loves. Yet, she leads her group of witches, continuing to maneuver the water to protect her village and its inhabitants.

In present day, Haven comes to Positano on a sponsored project to study and map shipwrecks in the area. However, she has another, more hidden purpose.

The book tells both stories, weaving back and forth. Haven's research brings the reader closer and closer to the conclusion of Mari's story. 

Often in dual timeline stories, one timeline is the more compelling story. In this case, it is Mari's. Mari's is the story of mothers and daughters and a sisterhood. Mari's is the story of witchcraft and powers, wanted or unwanted. Mari's is the story of pirates. Mari's is the love story told through letters and journals. Mari's is the story with the unexpected (at least to me) twist.

Haven's story has a premise that is compelling - a dying father's wish and a daughter's quest. However, certain elements of Haven's story - like the romance - come together to conveniently. Finally, what ultimately ties Haven's story to Mari's seems contrived and inconsistent with the code followed by Mari and her sisterhood.

The characters in Mari's story become more real than Haven and keep me reading until the ending. Nevertheless, the story overall remains engaging, and I look forward to more from the author.

About the Book 

A nautical archaeologist searching for sunken treasure in Positano unearths a centuries-old curse, powerful witchcraft, and perilous love on the high seas in this spellbinding new novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Apothecary—perfect for fans of The Familiar and The Cloisters.

Haven Ambrose, a trailblazing nautical archaeologist, has come to the sun-soaked village of Positano to investigate the mysterious shipwrecks along the Amalfi Coast. But Haven is hoping to find more than old artifacts beneath the azure waters; she is secretly on a quest to locate a trove of priceless gemstones her late father spotted on his final dive. Upon Haven’s arrival, strange maelstroms and misfortunes start plaguing the town. Is it nature, or something more sinister at work?

In 1821, Mari DeLuca and the women of her village practice the legendary art of stregheria, a magical ability to harness the power of the ocean. As their leader, Mari protects Positano with her witchcraft, but she has been plotting to run away with her lover, Holmes – a sailor aboard a merchant ship owned by the nefarious Mazza brothers, known for their greed and brutality. When the Mazzas learn about the women of Positano, they devise a plan to kidnap several of Mari’s friends. With her fellow witches and her village in danger – and Holmes’s life threatened by his connection to the most feared woman in Positano – Mari is forced to choose between the safety of her people and the man she loves.

As Haven searches for her father’s sunken treasure, she begins to unearth a tale of perilous love and powerful sorcery. Can she unravel the Amalfi Curse before the region is destroyed forever? Against the dazzling backdrop of the Amalfi Coast, this bewitching novel shimmers with mystery, romance, and the untamed magic of the sea.

About the Author

Sarah Penner is the New York Times and internationally bestselling author of The London Seance Society and The Lost Apothecary, which will be translated into forty languages worldwide and is set to be turned into a drama series by Fox. Sarah spent thirteen years in corporate finance and now writes full-time. She and her husband live in Florida. To learn more, visit SarahPenner.com.

Excerpt

Excerpted from THE AMALFI CURSE by Sarah Penner. Copyright © 2025 by Sarah Penner. Published by Park Row, an imprint of HarperCollins.

1
MARI

Wednesday, April 11, 1821

Along a dark seashore beneath the cliffside village of Positano, twelve women, aged six to forty-four, were seated in a circle. It was two o’clock in the morning, the waxing moon directly overhead.

One of the women stood, breaking the circle. Her hair was the color of vermilion, as it had been since birth. Fully clothed, she walked waist-high into the water. A belemnite fossil clutched between her fingers, she plunged her hands beneath the waves and began to move her lips, reciting the first part of the incantesimo di riflusso she’d learned as a child. Within moments, the undercurrent she’d conjured began to swirl at her ankles, tugging southward, away from her.

She shuffled her way out of the water and back onto the shore.

A second woman with lighter hair, the color of persimmon, stood from the circle. She, too, approached the ocean and plunged her hands beneath the surface. She recited her silent spell on the sea, satisfied as the undercurrent grew even stronger. She gazed out at the horizon, a steady black line where the sky met the sea, and smiled.

Like the other villagers along the coast tonight, these women knew what was coming: a fleet of pirate ships making their way northeast from Tunis. Winds were favorable, their sources said, and the flotilla was expected within the next day.

Their destination? Perhaps Capri, Sorrento, Majori. Some thought maybe even Positano—maybe, finally, Positano.

Given this, fishermen all along the Amalfi coastline had decided to remain at home with their families tomorrow and into the night. It wouldn’t be safe on the water. The destination of these pirates was unknown, and what they sought was a mystery, as well. Greedy pirates went for all kinds of loot. Hungry pirates went for nets full of fish. Lustful pirates went for the women.

On the seashore, a third and final woman stood from the circle. Her hair was the rich, deep hue of blood. Quickly, she undressed. She didn’t like the feeling of wet fabric against her skin, and these women had seen her naked a thousand times before.

Belemnite fossil in one hand, she held the end of a rope in her other, which was tied to a heavy anchor in the sand a short distance away. She would be the one to recite the final piece of this current-curse. Her recitation was the most important, the most potent, and after it was done, the ebbing undercurrent would be even more severe—hence the rope, which she would wrap tightly around herself before finishing the spell.

It was perilous, sinister work. Still, of the twelve women by the water tonight, twenty-year-old Mari DeLuca was the most befitting for this final task.

They were streghe del mare—sea witches—with unparalleled power over the ocean. They boasted a magic found nowhere else in the world, a result of their lineage, having descended from the sirens who once inhabited the tiny Li Galli islets nearby.

The women knew that tomorrow, wherever the pirates landed, it would not be Positano. The men would not seize their goods, their food, their daughters. No matter how the pirate ships rigged their sails, they would not find easy passageway against the undercurrent the women now drew upward from the bottom of the sea. They would turn east, or west. They would go elsewhere.

They always did.

While the lineage of the other eleven women was twisted and tangled, filled with sons or muddled by marriage, Mari DeLuca’s line of descent was perfectly intact: her mother had been a strega, and her mother’s mother, and so on and so on, tracing back thousands of years to the sirens themselves. Of the women on the seashore tonight, Mari was the only strega finisima.

This placed upon her shoulders many great responsibilities. She could instinctively read the water better than any of them. Her spells were the most effective, too; she alone could do what required two or three other streghe working in unison. As such, she was the sanctioned leader of the eleven other women. The forewoman, the teacher, the decision-maker.

Oh, but what a shame she hated the sea as much as she did.

Stepping toward the water, Mari unraveled her long plait of hair. It was her most striking feature—such blood-colored hair was almost unheard of in Italy, much less in the tiny fishing village of Positano—but then, much of what Mari had inherited was unusual. She tensed as the cold waves rushed over her feet. My mother should be the one doing this, she thought bitterly. It was a resentment she’d never released, not in twelve years, since the night when eight-year-old Mari had watched the sea claim her mother, Imelda, as its own.

On that terrible night, newly motherless and reeling, Mari knew the sea was no longer her friend. But worse than this, she worried for her younger sister, Sofia. How would Mari break this news to her? How could she possibly look after spirited Sofia with as much patience and warmth as their mamma had once done?

She’d hardly had time to grieve. The next day, the other streghe had swiftly appointed young Mari as the new strega finisima. Her mother had taught her well, after all, and she was, by birthright, capable of more than any of them. No one seemed to care that young Mari was so tender and heartbroken or that she now despised the very thing she had such control over.

But most children lose their mothers at some point, don’t they? And sprightly Sofia had been reason enough to forge on—a salve to Mari’s aching heart. Sofia had kept her steady, disciplined. Even cheerful, much of the time. So long as Sofia was beside her, Mari would shoulder the responsibilities that had been placed upon her, willingly or not.

Now, toes in the water, a pang of anguish struck Mari, as it often did at times like this.

Neither Mamma nor Sofia was beside her tonight. Mari let out a slow exhale. This moment was an important one, worth remembering. It was the end of two years’ worth of agonizing indecision. No one else on the seashore knew it, but this spell, this incantation she was about to recite, would be her very last. She was leaving in only a few weeks’ time, breaking free. And the place she was going was mercifully far from the sea.

Eyes down, Mari slipped her naked body beneath the water, cursing the sting of it as it seeped into a small rash on her ankle. At once, the water around her turned from dark blue to a thick inky black, like vinegar. Mari had dealt with this all her life: the sea mirrored her mood, her temperament.

As a child, she’d found it marvelous, the way the ocean read her hidden thoughts so well. Countless times, her friends had expressed envy of the phenomenon. But now, the black water shuddering around her legs only betrayed the secrets Mari meant to keep, and she was glad for the darkness, so better to hide her feelings from those on the shore.

Halfway into the water, already she could feel the changes in the sea: the two women before her had done very well with their spells. This was encouraging, at least. A few sharp rocks, churned by the undercurrent, scraped across the top of her feet like thorns, and it took great focus to remain in place against the undertow pulling her out. She used her arms to keep herself balanced, as a tired bird might flap its wings on an unsteady branch.

She wrapped the rope twice around her forearm. Once it was secure, she began to recite the spell. With each word, tira and obbedisci—pull and obey—the rope tightened against her skin. The undercurrent was intensifying quickly, and with even more potency than she expected. She winced when the rope broke her skin, the fresh wound exposed instantly to the bite of the salt water. She began to stumble, losing her balance, and she finished the incantation as quickly as possible, lest the rope leave her arm mangled.

She wouldn’t miss nights like this, not at all.

When she was done, Mari waved, signaling to the other women that it was time to pull her in. Instantly she felt a tug on the other end of the rope. A few seconds later, she was in shallow, gentle water. On her hands and knees, she crawled the rest of the way. Safely on shore, she lay down to rest, sand and grit sticking uncomfortably to her wet skin. She would need to wash well later.

Terribly time-consuming, all of this.

A sudden shout caught her attention, and Mari sat up, peering around in the darkness. Her closest friend, Ami, was now knee-deep in the water, struggling to keep her balance.

“Lia!” Ami shouted hysterically. “Lia, where are you?”

Lia was Ami’s six-year-old daughter, a strega-in-training, her hair a delicate, rosy red. Not moments ago, she’d been situated among the circle of women, her spindly legs tucked up against her chest, watching the spells unfold.

Mari threw herself upward, tripping as she lunged toward the ocean.

“No, please, no,” she cried out. If Lia was indeed in the water, it would be impossible for the young girl to make her way back to shore. She was smaller than other girls her age, her bones fragile as seashells, and though she could swim, she’d have nothing against the power of these tides. The very purpose of the incantation had been to drive the currents toward the deep, dark sea, with enough strength to stave off a pirate ship.

Lia wasn’t wearing a cimaruta, either, which gave the women great strength and vigor in moments of distress. She was too young: streghe didn’t get their talisman necklaces until they were fifteen, when their witchcraft had matured and they were deemed proficient in the art.

At once, every woman on the shore was at the ocean’s edge, peering at the water’s choppy surface. The women might have been powerful, yes, but they were not immortal: as Mari knew all too well, they could succumb to drowning just like anyone else.

Mari spun in a circle, scanning the shore. Suddenly her belly tightened, and she bent forward, her vision going dark and bile rising in the back of her throat.

This was too familiar—her spinning in circles, scanning the horizon in search of someone.

Seeing nothing.

Then seeing the worst.

Like her younger sister’s copper-colored hair, splayed out around the shoulders of her limp body as she lay facedown in the rolling swells of the sea.

Mari had been helpless, unable to protect fourteen-year-old Sofia from whatever she’d encountered beneath the waves that day, only two years ago. Mari had spent years trying to protect her sister as their mother could not, yet in the end, she had failed. She’d failed Sofia.

That day, the sea had once again proved itself not only greedy but villainous—something to be loathed.

Something, Mari eventually decided, from which to escape.

Now, Mari fell to her knees, too dizzy to stand. It was as though her body had been hauled back in time to that ill-fated morning. She bent forward, body heaving, about to be sick—

Suddenly, she heard a giggle, high-pitched and playful. It sounded just like Sofia, and for a moment, Mari thought she’d slipped into a dream.

“I am here, Mamma,” came Lia’s voice from a short distance away. “I am digging in the sand for baby gran—” She cut off. “I forget the word.”

Ami let out a cry, relief and irritation both. She ran toward her child, clutched her to her breast. “Granchio,” she said. “And don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Mari sat up, overwhelmed by relief. She didn’t have children, was not even married, but Lia sometimes felt like her own.

She steadied her breath. Lia is fine, she said silently to herself. She is perfectly well, on land, right here in front of all of us. Yet even as her breath slowed, she could not resist glancing once more behind her, scanning the wave tops.


The women who’d performed the spell changed into dry clothes.

Lia pulled away from Ami’s embrace, sneaking toward Mari, who welcomed her with a warm, strong hug. Mari bent over to kiss the girl’s head, breathing in her fragrance of oranges, sugar, and sweat.

Lia turned her narrow face to Mari, her lips in a frown. “The spell will protect us from the pirates forever?”

Mari smiled. If only it worked that way. She thought of the pirate ship approaching the peninsula tonight. If it did indeed make for Positano, she imagined the captain cursing under his breath. Damn these currents, he might say. I’ve had my eye on Positano. What is it with that village? He would turn to his first mate and order him to alter the rigging, set an eastward course. Anywhere but this slice of troublesome water, he’d hiss at his crew.

“No,” Mari said now. “Our magia does not work that way.”

She paused, considering what more to tell the girl. Nearly every spell the women recited dissipated in a matter of days, but there was a single spell, the vortice centuriaria, which endured for one hundred years. It could only be recited if a strega removed her protective cimaruta necklace. And the cost of performing such magic was substantial: she had to sacrifice her own life in order for the spell to be effective. As far as Mari knew, no one had performed the spell in hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years.

Such a grim topic wasn’t appropriate now, not with young Lia, so she kept her explanation simple. “Our spells last several days, at the most. No different than what a storm does to the ocean: churns it up, tosses it about. Eventually, though, the sea returns to normal. The sea always prevails.”

How much she hated to admit this. Even the vortice centuriaria, long-lasting as it was, faded eventually. The women could do powerful things with the sea, yes, but they were not masters of it.

“This is why we keep very close to our informants,” Mari went on. “There are people who tell us when pirates, or strange ships, have been spotted offshore. Knowing our spells will only last a few days, we must be diligent. We cannot curse the water too soon nor too late. Our fishermen need good, smooth water for their hauls, so we must only curse the water when we are sure there is a threat.” She smiled, feeling a tad smug. “We are very good at it, Lia.”

Lia traced her finger in the sand, making a big oval. “Mamma tells me I can do anything with the sea when I am older. Anything at all.”

It was an enticing sentiment, this idea that they had complete control over the ocean, but it was false. Their spells were really quite simple and few—there were only seven of them—and they abided by the laws of nature.

“I would like to see one of those big white bears,” Lia went on, “so I will bring an iceberg here, all the way from the Arctic.”

“Sadly,” Mari said, “I fear that is too far. We can push the pirates away because they are not all that far from us. But the Arctic? Well, there are many land masses separating us from your beloved polar bears…”

“I will go to live with other sea witches when I’m older, then,” Lia said. “Witches who live closer to the Arctic.”

“It is only us, dear. There are no other sea witches.” At Lia’s perturbed look, she explained, “We descended from the sirens, who lived on those islands—” she pointed to the horizon, where the Li Galli islets rose out of the water “—and we are the only women in the world who inherited power over the ocean.”

Lia slumped forward, let out a sigh.

“You will still be able to do many things,” Mari encouraged. “Just not everything.”

Like saving the people you love, she mused. Even to this day, the loss of little Sofia felt so senseless, so unneeded. The sisters had been in only a few feet of water, doing somersaults and handstands, diving for sea glass. They had passed the afternoon this way a thousand times before. Later, Mari would wonder if Sofia had knocked her head against the ground, or maybe she’d accidentally inhaled a mouthful of water. Whatever happened, Sofia had noiselessly slipped beneath the rippling tide.

She’s playing a trick, Mari thought as the minutes passed. She’s holding her breath and will come up any moment. The girls did this often, making games of guessing where the other might emerge. But Sofia didn’t emerge, not this time. And just a few months shy of fifteen, she hadn’t been wearing a cimaruta.

Lia began to add small lines to the edge of her circle. She was drawing an eye with lashes. “Mamma says you can do more than she can,” she chirped. “That it takes two or three of the streghe to do what you can do by yourself.”

“Yes,” Mari said. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Because of your mamma who died?”

Mari flinched at this, then quickly moved on. “Yes. And my nonna, and her mamma, and so on. All the way back many thousands of years. There is something different in our blood.”

“But not mine.”

“You are special in plenty of ways. Think of the baby needlefish, for instance. You’re always spotting them, even though they’re nearly invisible and they move terribly fast.” \

“They’re easy to spot,” Lia disputed, brows furrowed.

“Not for me. You understand? We are each skilled in our own way.”

Suddenly, Lia turned her face up to Mari. “Still, I hope you do not die, since you have the different, special blood and no one else does.”

Mari recoiled, taken aback by Lia’s comment. It was almost as though the young girl sensed Mari’s covert plans. “Go find your mamma,” she told Lia, who stood at once, ruining her sand art.

After she’d gone, Mari gazed at the hillside rising up behind them. This beach was not their normal place for practicing magic: Mari typically led the women to one of countless nearby caves or grottoes, protected from view, via a pair of small gozzi, seating six to a boat. But tonight had been different—one of the gozzi had come loose from its mooring, and it had drifted out into the open ocean. This had left the women with only one boat, and it wasn’t big enough to hold them all.

“Let’s gather on the beach instead,” she’d urged. “We’ll be out but a few minutes.” Besides, it was the middle of the night, and the moon had been mostly hidden behind clouds, so it was very dark.

While a few of the women looked at her warily, everyone had agreed in the end.

Mari stood and squeezed the water from her hair. It was nearly three o’clock, and all of the women were yawning.

She shoved the wet rope into her bag and dressed quickly, pulling her shift over her protective cimaruta necklace. Hers bore tiny amulets from the sea and coastline: a moon shell, an ammonite fossil, a kernel of gray volcanic pumice. Recently, Mari had found a tiny coral fragment in the perfect shape of a mountain, which she especially liked. Mountains made her think of inland places, which made her think of freedom.

As the women began to make their way up the hillside, Mari felt fingertips brush her arm. “Psst,” Ami whispered. In her hand was a small envelope, folded tightly in half.

Mari’s heart surged. “A letter.”

Ami winked. “It arrived yesterday.”

It had been two weeks since the last one, and as tempted as Mari was to tear open the envelope and read it in the moonlight, she tucked it against her bosom. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Suddenly, Mari caught movement in the corner of her eye, something on the dock a short distance away. At first, she thought she’d imagined it—clouds skirted across the sky, and the night was full of shadows—but then she gasped as a dark form quickly made its way off the dock, around a small building, and out of sight.

Something—someone—had most definitely been over there. A man. A late-night rendezvous, perhaps? Or had he been alone and spying on the women?

Mari turned to tell Ami, but her friend had already gone ahead, a hand protectively on Lia’s back.

As they stepped onto the dirt pathway scattered with carts and closed-up vendor stands, Mari turned around once more to glance at the dock. But there was nothing, no one. The dock lay in darkness.

Just a trick of the moonlight, she told herself.

Besides, she had a very important letter nestled against her chest—one she intended to tear open the moment she got home.

Social Links

Author Website: https://www.sarahpenner.com/
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Buy Links

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Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/s?k=9781335041791&tag=hcg-02-20

Please share your thoughts and leave a comment. I would love to "talk" to you.