“I’m also working on a book,” I said. “Something you might be interested in. A novel.”
“Following in your mother’s footsteps. Brava. What’s it about?”
I cocked my head and let a smile curl my lips. “It’s about a damaged woman, the daughter of a world-famous bestselling novelist, who finds herself at the center of a decades-old unsolved mystery.”
His lips parted, revealing the wolf’s tooth again.
“I’m calling it The Silver Cup,” I said.
He wasn’t looking so relaxed anymore, his face flushed a deep crimson. He cleared his throat.
“It was nice meeting you,” I said. “Mr. Peter Darnell. Dad. Maybe we’ll cross paths again one day.”
Maybe in court, when you’re being tried for murder, I thought.
“We should—” he began, then stopped. A spot just above his eye twitched.
“Introduce yourself to Frances on your way out,” I said and smiled. “I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
He started to puff his chest, but I turned my back and walked to my friends at the bar.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To everyone who bought my first book, Burying the Honeysuckle Girls, or checked it out of the library; to those who read it, wrote reviews, wrote to me; who told their friends to read it or chose it for their book club . . . I thank you. Your passion for the book warms my heart every day, and this book wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you all.
Thanks to my crackerjack agent, Amy Cloughley, at Kimberley Cameron & Associates and to my enthusiastic and tireless editor, Kelli Martin, and the whole team at Lake Union. I am so grateful that I get to work with such a talented and supportive team.
Thanks to editors Heather Lazare (in the early days) and Shannon O’Neill (in the latter days) for wrangling the manuscript into something polished and pretty. Y’all are magic—that is all.
To Erratica: Chris Negron, M. J. Pullen, and Becky Albertalli—your early reads were invaluable. Thank you. George Weinstein, you’re up for the next one. Thank you also to Katy Shelton for an eleventh-hour read. As always, thanks to Michael Brown and Valerie Connors of the Atlanta Writers Club for their continued support of me and all of us local writers.
Dr. Gladstone Sellers kindly provided everything I needed to know about lead poisoning and its treatment—so any mistakes regarding those sorts of details are mine. I’m grateful also for Rebecca Roanhorse’s generous thoughts and advice concerning Native American characters in the book. Ken Madren, it’s not exactly about a pirate . . . but thanks for the island inspiration all the same.
Finally, Rick, Noah, Alex, and Everett—I can’t thank you enough for your stalwart encouragement and steady stream of sass. I love you.