#Review - City of Betrayal by Victoria Thompson #Mystery #Historical

Series: A Counterfeit Lady # 7
Format: Hardcover, 320 pages
Release Date: December 5, 2023
Publisher: Berkley
Source: Publisher
Genre: Mystery / Historical

Elizabeth Bates's latest con just might change the course of history in an all-new Counterfeit Lady Novel from USA Today bestselling author Victoria Thompson.

A year has passed since Elizabeth Bates ran her last con. Life has been simpler, although not nearly as exciting, but she has thrown herself into working to get the 19th Amendment ratified by thirty-six states to become the law of the land. Since every other Southern state has already rejected the amendment, it seems unlikely Tennessee will be an exception . . . but it's their only hope, so the suffragists descend on Tennessee for the final battle.

Elizabeth’s ability to interact with difficult men and to persuasively explain all the advantages of allowing women to vote—all skills she perfected as a grifter—have made her a valuable member of the team. But she would never have expected the lengths to which some would go to keep the vote out of women's hands. She'll need to devise the perfect con or the suffragists' life's work could all be for nothing. 

City of Betrayal, by Victoria Thompson, is the 7th installment in the authors Counterfeit Lady series. A year has passed since Elizabeth Miles Bates ran her last con. Life has been simpler, although not nearly as exciting, but she has thrown herself into working to get the 19th Amendment ratified by thirty-six states to become the law of the land. 35 States have ratified, 8 have rejected it including every  Southern state. 

 

It seems unlikely Tennessee will be an exception but it's their only hope, so the suffragists descend on Tennessee for the final battle. Elizabeth’s ability to interact with difficult men and to persuasively explain all the advantages of allowing women to vote—all skills she perfected as a grifter—have made her a valuable member of the team. But she would never have expected the lengths to which some would go to keep the vote out of women's hands. She'll need to devise the perfect con or the suffragists' life's work could all be for nothing. 

 

Elizabeth isn't alone. She has her husband Gideon Bates, her best friend Anna Vanderslice, who lost her brother to the pandemic 2 years ago, and Gideon's mother who spent some time in prison alongside Elizabeth working for the women's suffragist movement. Prohibition was recently put into place but that doesn't stop people who want to drink, and bribe others with drink. The two factions of the suffragist movement, separated by their approach to securing women's right to vote and the anti-suffragists are there in large numbers. 

 

The women are individually buttonholing one legislator after another, gaining and losing their pledges to take their sides, sometimes through drink and bribery. Whether or not anything in this book actually happened, the point is that ratifying a Constitutional amendment is not easy, especially when women who should want equal rights, fight hard against change. Regardless of your feelings, the 19th Amendment doesn't pass without the Republican party. This was not the most entertaining story, but historically important.

*Thoughts* In all, over 200 Republicans voted in favor of the 19^th Amendment, while only 102 Democrats voted alongside them. Regardless of the authors personal crusade, historians write that Woodrow Wilson, Democrat President, was very much against the 19th Amendment. He also believed that suffrage was the root of all evil. Wilson considered himself a moral president, and yet he did not believe that women should vote. He called himself a moral president, and yet he segregated the civil service in one of his first acts as President.

 

If you take one thing from this review, take this. Suffragists and anti-suffragists lobbied furiously to secure votes during that intense summer in Nashville. The ratification resolution passed easily in the Tennessee State Senate on August 13, but the House of Representatives was deadlocked thanks to the Speaker of the House who flipped to anti. When young Harry T. Burn of Niota changed his vote to support ratification of the 19th Amendment thanks to a letter from his mother, he broke a tie in the House of Representatives and made history.  

 

Carrie Chapman Catt (1859-1947) was president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA). She came to Nashville during the summer of 1920 to support the efforts of Tennessee suffragists. Her leadership was a key factor in Tennessee becoming the "Perfect 36," the state that put the 19th Amendment over the top. There are hundreds of others who should be remember who works behind the scenes and should never be forgotten.

CHAPTER one

I knew it would be difficult, but I never dreamed it would be impossible," Elizabeth Miles Bates said, staring at the letter she'd been reading.

Her mother-in-law looked up from her knitting. "Are you talking about passing the amendment, dear?"

"Yes, I am. I'll never understand those people who are so dead set against allowing women to vote."

"What does Miss Paul's letter say? And I'm sure she doesn't say it's impossible."

Alice Paul was the leader of the National Woman's Party, the more radical of the two organizations that had been working for Woman Suffrage. Their demonstrations outside the White House had gotten many of their volunteers jailed. Elizabeth and her mother-in-law were among them.

"You're right, she doesn't say it's impossible," Elizabeth admitted, "but it is going to be nearly impossible. I thought that since thirty-five states have already approved the amendment, we could easily get the one more state that we need to make it the law of the land, but Miss Paul makes it clear that there is only one state left that might actually approve the amendment, and that state is Tennessee."

Mother Bates frowned. They both knew that almost every other Southern state had already rejected the amendment, and Tennessee was likely to join them. "Why is she so sure it comes down to Tennessee?"

"Since eight states have already rejected it, that leaves just five states that could approve it. We know North Carolina and Florida will never approve it, and the governors of Vermont and Connecticut have refused to call a special session of their legislatures even to vote on it. That means Tennessee is the only possible state left."

"If only we hadn't lost in Delaware," Mother Bates said sadly.

"That was such a disappointment. We were so sure . . ."

"Then we must be sure we will win in Tennessee. Is that what Miss Paul advises?"

Elizabeth looked down at the letter she still held. "Not exactly, but she is calling on all her volunteers to help in whatever way they can."

Mother Bates stopped her knitting needles and stared at Elizabeth. "Did she ask you to go to Tennessee?"

"Yes, she did," Elizabeth said with a sigh.

"That's a great honor. She knows how effective you've been in convincing legislators to vote for the amendment."

Elizabeth and Mother Bates had traveled to several other states to help lobby for the amendment. "Not in the South, though," Elizabeth reminded her.

"Then Tennessee will be the exception."

Elizabeth looked at the letter again. Miss Paul was quite eloquent in her praise of Elizabeth's ability to convince reluctant officials to support Woman Suffrage. If only she knew that Elizabeth's skills came from being raised by a con man to become a con artist herself. She could lie without blinking and charm even the most unappealing gentleman. When she had married Gideon Bates, she had thought her days of conning marks was over, but she had found her skills could come in handy in getting justice for people who could never get it any other way. She had used those skills several times to help her friends.

It had been almost a year since she'd run a con, though, unless she counted lobbying politicians for Woman Suffrage, which she probably should.

"I don't know what Gideon will say," Elizabeth murmured.

"What I'll say about what?" Gideon asked as he came into the parlor.

"Darling, I didn't hear you come home," Elizabeth said, jumping up to give him his welcome-home kiss. Mother Bates tactfully averted her eyes. "How was your day?"

"Boring as usual." Gideon was an estate attorney, so he rarely did anything exciting. "And don't change the subject. What is it you think I'll have something to say about and is that a letter you're holding?"

"It's from Alice Paul," his mother said helpfully.

Elizabeth sent her an exasperated look, which she ignored.

"Ah, I see. Where does Miss Paul want to send you now?" he asked, taking a seat on the sofa and pulling Elizabeth down beside him.

"Tennessee," Elizabeth said.

"In the summer? It gets awfully hot down there in the summer."

"It gets awfully hot in New York in the summer," Elizabeth countered.

Gideon shrugged. "I'm just warning you. Why does she need you in Tennessee?"

"Because it's our only hope." Elizabeth and Mother Bates took turns explaining the situation and how dire it now appeared.

"Does Miss Paul really believe Tennessee will approve the amendment?" he asked when they finished.

"We don't know, but I think we can all agree that they must," his mother said.

"I hope they know that," Gideon said with a grin.

"They will when we tell them," his mother said.

"We?" Gideon echoed.

"You can't think I'd let Elizabeth go to Tennessee by herself when I could help, too."

Elizabeth gave her a grateful smile.

Gideon frowned. "You need to know what you're getting into."

"We've done this before," Elizabeth reminded him.

"Yes, but not when it was down to the wire like this. Some of the other fights have been hard, but the Antis will bring out all their dirty tricks for this one," Gideon said, using the nickname for those who were anti-Woman Suffrage. "Politics can be an ugly business, and when so much is at stake, it gets even uglier."

His mother smiled a little. "Surely, you don't think those Southern gentlemen will do anything unpleasant."

"Oh no," Gideon said. "They'll be smiling very sweetly as they stab you in the back."

"But we have to go," Elizabeth said. "After all we've done for the Cause, we can't sit by now and just watch. What if we lose in Tennessee? I'd never forgive myself for not doing my part."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't go," Gideon said.

"And I'm very happy to see that you also aren't telling her she can't go," Mother Bates said with some satisfaction.

"I wouldn't dare," Gideon replied with a smirk.

Elizabeth knew her father had warned him that forbidding her to do something only guaranteed that she would do it. "Then we'll go."

"And I'm going with you, too," Gideon said.

"Do you think we need your protection?" Elizabeth said in surprise.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but I'm sure the Suffs can use some male help. Those legislators can be difficult to track down, and they go places that ladies can't go. As a member of the Men's Ratification Committee, I feel it's my duty to volunteer."

"What about your law firm?" Elizabeth said. "We don't even know how long it will take."

"Mr. Devoss will insist that I go when I tell him I'm needed to protect my mother."

"Gideon," Mother Bates scolded, but Elizabeth noticed her cheeks were pink. Mr. Devoss was very devoted to her mother-in-law.

"Do we know Mr. Devoss's stand on Woman Suffrage?" Elizabeth asked.

"I believe Mother convinced him to support it," Gideon said.

His mother glared at him, but he ignored her.

"Then he will certainly let you go to Tennessee," Elizabeth said. "It shouldn't take very long, should it? Surely only a few days. It will be a special session of the legislature and they'll only be considering the amendment."

"Do we know when it will be held?" Gideon asked.

"Not yet. Miss Paul isn't even certain the governor will call it. He's afraid if he shows he supports Woman Suffrage, he won't win his primary on . . ." Elizabeth glanced at Miss Paul's letter to verify the date. ". . . on August fifth, so it will be after that."

"Tennessee in August," Mother Bates said with a mock shudder.

"Another reason the legislators won't want to linger," Gideon said. "But won't they need people there ahead of time to get the legislators to pledge their votes?"

"According to Miss Paul, the Tennessee chapter of the Woman's Party is sending their members out across the state to find the men at their homes and get their pledges."

"So they'll know how many votes they have even before the session starts," Mother Bates added.

"What if they don't have enough?" Gideon asked.

"Then they'll start trying to convince those who wouldn't pledge or who seemed undecided to vote to approve," Mother Bates said.

"And keep those who did pledge to vote for it from changing their minds," Elizabeth said.

"No easy task, I'm sure," Gideon said. "Don't forget that very powerful forces are determined to stop the amendment from becoming law."

"How could we forget?" Elizabeth said. "The railroads and the whiskey men and the textile manufacturers. They're all afraid that if women get the vote, they'll want to end things like corruption and child labor."

"The whiskey men can't still be worried that women would insist on Prohibition since we already have it," Gideon argued.

Elizabeth smiled wisely. "It seems they're worried women will insist that the laws are enforced."

"Ah, I see," Gideon said. "But Tennessee was already dry for years before Prohibition."

"I hope you aren't too surprised to learn that law wasn't really enforced, either," his mother said.

"I can see I should have gone with you on these trips sooner," Gideon said. "I'm hopelessly naïve."

"Not hopelessly," Elizabeth said, patting his arm. "We'll make sure you're properly educated by the time we go to Tennessee. We have a few weeks, if the governor isn't going to call the session until after his primary."

"Maybe he'll schedule it for later in the year, when it will be cooler," Mother Bates said hopefully.

"Oh no, we want it as soon as possible so women have time to register to vote in the November elections," Elizabeth said. "Just think, they'll get to vote for a new president this year."

"But only if we can convince enough of those Tennessee gentlemen to support the amendment," Mother Bates said.

"I have every confidence that the two of you will succeed and all the women in America will be able to vote in the November election," Gideon said.

Elizabeth decided she needed to kiss her husband again, and this time Mother Bates didn't even look away.


Is there something good in the gossip column today?” Anna Vanderslice asked as she breezed into the Bateses’ library to find Elizabeth studying the newspaper.

Elizabeth looked up and smiled at her friend. "I'm sure there is, but I haven't gotten to the gossip column yet. I'm looking for some news about Tennessee."

Anna plopped down on the chair opposite Elizabeth's. "You don't think a New York newspaper will have news about Tennessee, do you?"

"Not usually, but the Tennessee primary election was two days ago, and the governor won his contest, so I'm hoping he'll call the legislature into special session pretty soon."

"That's right. I almost forgot. Are you still planning to go?" Anna asked, pulling off the gloves ladies were required to wear even in summer to protect their hands. Then she started fanning herself with them. "I asked your maid to get us something cool to drink. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. It's very warm today, although Gideon keeps warning me it will be much hotter in Nashville."

"You'll be too busy to even notice," Anna predicted. "I should go with you."

"I would love that," Elizabeth said, "but who would look after your mother?"

Anna sighed. "I know. I can't leave her. She's lost interest in just about everything. She won't even see her friends when they call. It's gotten even worse since my classes ended and I'm home all the time now. She is content to let me wait on her hand and foot. I don't know what I'll do with her when I go back to school in the fall." Anna was attending college, studying to be a teacher.

"Does she still . . . ?" Elizabeth started but caught herself.

"Does she still talk about David all the time?" Anna finished for her. "Oh yes. Sometimes I can hardly bear it."

David was Anna's brother who had died in the flu epidemic almost two years earlier. He had also been Gideon's best friend. "I'm so sorry," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, well, let's not dwell on that," Anna said with forced cheerfulness. "Did you find out anything about Tennessee?"

"Not a word, not even in the front section."

"Why would it be in the front section with the real news?" Anna asked with mock amazement. She was as involved in the Cause as Elizabeth was, having been imprisoned with her and Mother Bates as well. "Everyone knows that news about Woman Suffrage belongs in the women's pages."

"I thought maybe because it involved the governor and politics, they might put it in the front, but no, nothing."

"I'm sure Miss Paul will let you know as soon as she hears. And you can go on short notice since you don't have to . . ."

Elizabeth looked up in surprise when Anna stopped in the middle of her sentence. "Since I don't have to what?"

"Nothing," Anna said sheepishly, not quite meeting her eye.

That was when she realized what Anna had been about to say and why she hadn't said it. "Since I don't have children to worry about," she finished for her friend.

"I'm so sorry," Anna said quickly, obviously ashamed to have brought up the sensitive subject. Elizabeth and Gideon had been married well over a year with no hint of a baby, a lack Elizabeth mourned, albeit quietly.

"That's all right," Elizabeth said with a false smile. "I don't have children yet, so I should take advantage of that freedom. I just hope we have enough time to make our travel arrangements. The Woman's Party is low on funds, so I don't think Miss Paul will be wasting money on long-distance telephone calls or telegrams."

"Low on funds?" Anna scoffed, taking Elizabeth's hint to change the subject. "Won't Mrs. Belmont help them out?" The wealthy Mrs. Belmont was the main benefactor for the Party.

"I don't know, but Miss Paul also asked me for a donation when she wrote to invite me to go to Tennessee."

"She's always asking for donations," Anna reminded her.

"This one sounded a little desperate, though. I know she'll want to go to Tennessee herself so she can direct the volunteers."

"Yes, this is much too important to leave it to anyone else."

"Which is why I sent her some money," Elizabeth said.

"I'll send some, too, although it won't be much. Mother still refuses to understand that we need to economize since we don't have David to support us anymore."

"That's kind of you. I do wish you could go with us."

Anna smiled mischievously. "Yes, we could have a wonderful time with those legislators. Do you think we could run a con to get them to support the amendment?"

Elizabeth gave her a disapproving glare. "I should never have let you kill me." As part of a con, Anna had once pretended to murder Elizabeth, which had ironically saved Elizabeth's life.

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#Review - Shards of Glass Michelle Sagara #Fantasy

Series: Chronicles of Elantra
Format: Paperback, 512 pages
Release Date: November 28, 2023
Publisher: MIRA
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy

Michelle Sagara is the New York Times bestselling author of The Chronicles of Elantra series. Shards of Glass is loosely connected to Sagara's Elantra series, and centers on Raven, a new student at a Magic School that has been frozen in time and space. To reawaken and survive, the Academia needs students—but someone seems bent on killing them.

"This magical thrill-ride is a treat." —Publishers Weekly on Cast in Wisdom

The Academia, once an elite proving ground for the rulers of the world, has been frozen for centuries. Now its strange slumber has ended, and a new Chancellor, an orange-eyed dragon, has reopened its lecture halls and readied its dorms. In order to thrive once more, however, the Academia needs fresh blood—new students with a passion and talent for learning.

One such student, Robin, has the perfect recruit in mind: his friend Raven, an orphan who lives in the dangerous Warrens. Robin grew up in the Warrens, and he wouldn't have made it if not for Raven. He knows she’ll be safe at the Academia, where her unusual gifts can be appreciated.

But when students start turning up dead, the campus threatens to collapse completely. Raven and Robin will not let that happen to their new home…if they can survive long enough to figure out who—or what—is trying to kill them.

Michelle Sagara's Shard of Glass is set in the authors Chronicles of Elantra world. This book is set at the Academia, which you might be familiar with if you read Cast in Wisdom featuring Corporal Kaylin Neya. Kaylin was the one who discovered the Academia after it was lost for so long. The school, both as an institution and in the person of its sentient building and grounds, Killianas, is recovering, but it appears someone is trying to belay that recovery.  

This story does not focus on Kaylin, rather Robin, who we met in Cast in Wisdom, and Raven, a new character who is obsessed with collecting glass pieces, and was Robin's only friend until he disappeared. Raven, like Robin, lived in the Warrens. Raven is very much a mysterious character for most of the story with her obsession with finding glass shards that nobody but her can see. It was Robin who gave her the name she now carries. 

It was Raven who protected Robin when they were living on the streets of Elantra running errands for the Grey Lady. But Robin was apparently stolen by powerful people and taken to the Academia where he was stuck for years while the outside world moved on without him. Raven, though, never forget. Raven knows that people in the Warrens have been disappearing and not returning. She knows to stay away from the Barrani because they are dangerous. 

She knows that those who were taken will never be missed never missed. Those like Robin who became an orphan after tragedy took his entire family away from him. Until one day, Giselle, the Grey Lady takes Raven to the Academia where she reunites with a Robin. Because of her curiosity, Robin knows that Raven will be safe at the Academia, and it is a good thing that she shows up when she does. Raven is the one who finds clues nobody can see. Raven is the one who finds hidden rooms that even Killian can't see, and he can't see Raven.

The Academia, once an elite proving ground for the rulers of the world, was frozen for centuries. Now its strange slumber has ended, and a new Chancellor, an orange-eyed dragon known as Lannagaros, has reopened its lecture halls and readied its dorms. In order to thrive once more, however, the Academia needs fresh blood—new students with a passion and talent for learning. But when students start turning up dead, the campus threatens to collapse completely. 

Raven and Robin will not let that happen to their new home; if they can survive long enough to figure out who—or what—is trying to kill them. Robin and Raven will have to work with some characters you should know if you have read the reset of the authors Elantra series. Characters like: Terrano, who always seems to get in trouble. Starrante, the Arbiter from the Library who looks like a giant spider. Serralyn, one of the Barrani along with Valliant who chose to attend the Academia. There is also an appearance by Barrani Hawk Teela and Sedarias who is the leader of the Barrani who were stuck together for a century.

*Thoughts* So, let's not say this story is a spin-off. It's a side show that happens at the same time as the authors Kaylin Neya series. As I said, Kaylin does not appear in this story, but she is mentioned as the one who found the Academia. While the story does focus on the school, and the fact that someone is killing students, the key here is Robin. Robin vaguely, fleetingly remembers another life. Another life with a mother, a sister, and a brother. Another life that didn't involve struggling to survive while living in the Warrens. But it has been years since he's been in stuck in the Academia and his memories of who he is, and what happened to his family finally awakens with the arrival of Raven and the Gray Lady. Raven is a really interesting and complex character in that you really need to pay attention to the things she does, especially she she starts seeing things nobody else can see.

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#Review - The Spy Coast by Tess Gerritsen #Thriller #Espionage

Series: The Martini Club # 1
Format: Kindle, 341 pages
Release Date: November 1, 2023
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Source: Amazon
Genre: Espionage / Thriller

A retired CIA operative in small-town Maine tackles the ghosts of her past in this fresh take on the spy thriller from New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen.

Former spy Maggie Bird came to the seaside village of Purity, Maine, eager to put the past behind her after a mission went tragically wrong. These days, she’s living quietly on her chicken farm, still wary of blowback from the events that forced her early retirement.

But when a body turns up in Maggie’s driveway, she knows it’s a message from former foes who haven’t forgotten her. Maggie turns to her local circle of old friends—all retirees from the CIA—to help uncover the truth about who is trying to kill her, and why. This “Martini Club” of former spies may be retired, but they still have a few useful skills that they’re eager to use again, if only to spice up their rather sedate new lives.

Complicating their efforts is Purity’s acting police chief, Jo Thibodeau. More accustomed to dealing with rowdy tourists than homicide, Jo is puzzled by Maggie’s reluctance to share information—and by her odd circle of friends, who seem to be a step ahead of her at every turn.

As Jo’s investigation collides with the Martini Club’s maneuvers, Maggie’s hunt for answers will force her to revisit a clandestine career that spanned the globe, from Bangkok to Istanbul, from London to Malta. The ghosts of her past have returned, but with the help of her friends—and the reluctant Jo Thibodeau—Maggie might just be able to save the life she’s built.

The Spy Coast, by Tess Gerritsen, is the first installment in the authors The Martini Club series. Key Characters: Maggie Bird, and Acting Police Chief, Jo Thibodeau. It has been 16 years since Maggie retired from the CIA and made her home in Purity, Maine which is pretty isolated from the rest of the country. She purchased Blackberry Farm from the previous owner, and is perfectly fine visiting with her friends, her neighbor Luther Yount, and his granddaughter Callie, while running off annoying foxes who target her chickens. 

Maggie isn't aware of it yet, but her past, as well as a former colleague named Diana Ward, who she worked with in Operation Cyrano in Malta, is about to rear its ugly head. Diana, who was living a comfortable life in Paris, escaped a bad ending from two men who wanted her dead. Someone, it appears, has leaked her name. Diana made plenty of enemies, and those enemies haven't forgotten what happened 16 years ago while she and Maggie were chasing a Russian spy known as Cyrano. 

Back in Purity, Maggie gets a visit from a woman named Bianca Miskova who says Maggie is missing and that there has been a breach of the Agency records. The only file accessed was Operation Cyrano which took place 16 years ago in Malta. But when Bianca turns up dead in Maggie’s driveway, she knows it’s a message from former foes who haven’t forgotten her. Who is Bianca really? CIA? SVR? Why is she searching for Diana? Who killed her and why? What was Operation Cyrano, and why is the agency revisiting it?

Maggie turns to her local circle of old friends—all retirees from the CIA—to help uncover the truth about who is trying to kill her, and why. This “Martini Club” of former spies (Lloyd and Ingrid Slocum, Ben Diamond, & Declan Rose) may be retired, but they still have a few useful skills that they’re eager to use again, if only to spice up their rather sedate new lives. Complicating their efforts is Purity’s acting police chief, Jo Thibodeau. 

More accustomed to dealing with rowdy tourists than homicide, Jo is puzzled by Maggie’s reluctance to share information and by her odd circle of friends, who seem to be a step ahead of her at every turn. As Jo’s investigation collides with the Martini Club’s maneuvers, Callie is kidnapped and a cryptic message "a life for a life" is left for Maggie. Maggie’s hunt for answers will force her to revisit a clandestine career that spanned the globe, from Bangkok to Istanbul, from London to Malta. The ghosts of her past have returned, but with the help of her friends—and the reluctant Jo Thibodeau—Maggie might just be able to save the life she’s built.

*Thoughts* This, apparently, is the authors first foray into Espionage thrillers and yes, she did a good job. She mentions that Maine is a place where retired spies go to retire. Not sure if that was such a good idea, knowing the world we live in today. This story alternate's between the present, and 16 years ago culminating in a major loss for Maggie, and an end to a promising career. I honestly have nothing good to say about Diana. Jo is in a curious position now that she knows who the Martini Club really is, and what they are capable of. Also, could it be possible that Maggie has been blinded by what happened 16 years ago to see what is right in front of her in the form of romance? We shall see. 

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#Review - The Crimson Fortress by Akshaya Raman #YA #Fantasy

Series: The Ivory Key Duology # 2
Format: Hardcover, 432 pages
Release Date: November 14, 2023
Publisher: Clarion Books
Source: Library
Genre: Young Adult / Fantasy / Epic

In this thrilling, action-packed sequel and conclusion to the critically acclaimed Ivory Key duology called “a dream”* (ALA Booklist, starred review), royal siblings Vira, Ronak, Kaleb, and Riya battle vengeful enemies, centuries-old mysteries, and their own personal demons in order to save their country from ruin.

The search for the Ivory Key has brought royal siblings Vira, Ronak, Kaleb, and Riya closer than they have been in years as they try to restore magic and stability to Ashoka. But despite finally getting their hands on the long-lost key, uncovering its cipher has proved more complicated and dangerous than they ever expected.

Their missions force them to split up and disperse across Ashoka and beyond. When a rash decision by the council strips Vira of her power, her journey to reclaim her throne takes on new meaning. Kaleb travels to the neighboring country of Lyria to uncover its emperor’s motives and meets a prince seeking answers of his own. Ronak’s efforts to escape his arranged marriage and exonerate his brother lead to a series of risky deals that only bring him closer to what he’s running from. And Riya’s newfound power has turned unpredictable, but her search for answers only raises more questions.

When their attempts at decoding the key release an ancient power, the siblings must align to face the past and save their future once and for all. In a quest that culminates in a deadly labyrinth, there’s only one way they will succeed: together. 

The Crimson Fortress, by Akshaya Raman, is the second and final installment in the authors The Ivory Key duology. In this action-packed sequel, royal siblings Vira, Ronak, Kaleb, and Riya battle vengeful enemies, centuries-old mysteries, and their own personal demons in order to save their country from ruin. The search for the Ivory Key has brought royal siblings Vira, Ronak, Kaleb, and Riya closer than they have been in years as they try to restore magic and stability to Ashoka.

But not everything is what Vira expected. Vira is Maharani of Ashoka. Ashoka has 3 weeks left before the countries defenses are weakened by the lack of magic in the land. Vira has been betrayed by the former Captain of her Guard, and will  also end up losing her title of Maharani in a coup staged by a Council that seeks to make a very bad treaty with their enemies in Lyria. Riya is the former Raven who left the family to go out on her own. Riya desperately wants to know more about her magic, or to get rid of it permanently. Riya's journey to peace of mind is as twisted as one can get without losing oneself. 

Until 2 weeks ago, Ronak thought everything was going well. He had planned on leaving Ashoka and boarding a ship. He gave up months of his life for Kaleb. Even worse, he made with Ekta turned out to be a really bad idea. Now she wants more from him. Kaleb, who was accused of killing his mother, has fled the country for Lyrian where he meets his cousin, Dayana. Kaleb soon finds himself working as a spy for the Heir to the throne, Lukas, while also trying not to let people know who his mother or father was for fear that he would become a liability.

Despite finally getting their hands on the long-lost key, uncovering its cipher has proved more complicated and dangerous than they ever expected. They have encountered not one, but two secret societies (Order of Remayura and The Kamala Society) that seem to be battling each other. When their attempts at decoding the key release an ancient power named Niveda, the siblings must align to face the past and save their future once and for all. In a quest that culminates in a deadly labyrinth, there’s only one way they will succeed: together. 

*Thoughts* Overall, this is definitely an action packed story that has betrayal after betrayal, and it is not often I say this but, thank goodness this is only a duology. The ending is done pretty well. Riya finds her happy ending, Riya wants to become a treasure hunter like her father and travel the globe, Kaleb has found his own happiness in Lyria where he can finally get to know his extended family, and maybe a bit of love while he is at it. Ronak ponders his future, but here's hoping he ends up on that ship he once wanted to escape on.

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#Review - Uncanny Vows by Laura Anne Gilman #Fantasy #Historical

Series: Huntsmen # 2
Format: Paperback, 384 pages
Release Date: November 28, 2023
Publisher: Gallery / Saga Press
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Historical

Following the events of the high-stakes and propulsive Uncanny Times, Rosemary and Aaron Harker, along with their supernatural hound Botherton, have been given a new assignment to investigate…but the Harkers believe it’s a set-up, and there’s something far more ancient and deadly instead.

Rosemary and Aaron Harker have been effectively, unofficially sidelined. There is no way to be certain, but they suspect their superiors know that their report on Brunson was less than complete, that they omitted certain truths. Are they being punished or tested? Neither Aaron nor Rosemary know for certain. It may be simply that they are being given a breather or that no significant hunts have been called in their region. But neither of them believes that.

So, when they are sent to a town just outside of Boston with orders to investigate suspicious activity carefully, the Harkers suspect that it is a test. Particularly since the hunt involves a member of the benefactors, wealthy individuals who donate money to the Huntsmen in exchange for certain special privileges and protections.

If they screw this up…at best, they’ll be out of favor, reduced to a life of minor hunts and “clean up” for other Huntsmen. At worst, they will be removed from the ranks, their stipend gone—and Botheration, their Hound, taken from them.

They can’t afford to screw this up.

But what seems like a simple enough hunt—find the uncanny that attacked a man in his office and sent him into a sleep-like state—soon becomes far more complicated as more seemingly unrelated attacks occur. The Harkers must race to find what is shadowing them, before the uncanny strikes again, and sleep turns into murder—and the Huntsmen decide that they have been compromised beyond repair.

Uncanny Vows, by Laura Anne Gilman, is the second installment in the authors Huntsmen series. This series falls into the category of gaslamp fantasy in which the story combines elements of Gothic horror, urban fantasy, and historical fiction set mostly in the 1800's with some exceptions like this series. Key characters: Rosemary and Aaron Harker. Huntsmen, according to the Church, were damned, their blood unclean, unholy by the Fey. Yet for Rosemary and Aaron Harker, the Church was less important than being ready to stand against the Uncanny as not being prepared could lead to being dead.  

 

The year is 1914. America—and the world—trembles on the edge of a modern age and World War. Political and social unrest shift the foundations; technology is beginning to make its mark. But in the shadows, things from the past still move. Things inhuman, uncanny. And the Uncanny are no friend to humanity. Rosemary and Aaron Harker have been effectively, unofficially sidelined. There is no way to be certain, but they suspect their superiors know that their report on Brunson was less than complete, that they omitted certain truths. Are they being punished or tested? 

 

Neither Aaron nor Rosemary know for certain. It may be simply that they are being given a breather or that no significant hunts have been called in their region. But neither of them believes that. So, when they are sent to a town just outside of Boston with orders to investigate suspicious activity carefully, the Harker's suspect that it is a test. Particularly since the hunt involves a member of the benefactors, wealthy individuals who donate money to the Huntsmen in exchange for certain special privileges and protections. If they screw this up…at best, they’ll be out of favor, reduced to a life of minor hunts and “clean up” for other Huntsmen. 

 

At worst, they will be removed from the ranks, their stipend gone—and Botheration, their Hound, taken from them. They can’t afford to screw this up. But what seems like a simple enough hunt—find the uncanny that attacked a man in his office and sent him into a sleep-like state—soon becomes far more complicated as more seemingly unrelated attacks occur. With Hunter Jonathan Scheinberg in the area instead of in Europe with other experienced Hunters, the Harker's must race to find what is shadowing them, before the uncanny strikes again, and sleep turns into murder—and the Huntsmen decide that they have been compromised beyond repair.

But both siblings are aware that they are walking on glass. They know the Treaty that kept the peace between Fey and Humans is on tenuous ground after the events of Brunson. But their quarry may not be the only uncanny in town. Botheration and Aaron both sense something else, something shadowing them. Something old, dangerous and likely fey. Aaron and Rosemary couldn't be more different. Aaron, who is experimenting with magic, the same magic that cost him his mother and father, has a pretty curious background that makes most Hunters look down on him thinking that he has more other in his blood, than human. Meanwhile, Rosemary seems to addicted to a drug called Blast which gives her a little more energy.

 

This book ends on a sort of cliffhanger. There is an Old One introduced via several chapters, and in the end, this Old One seems to be keeping a keen eye on the Harker's and what they do next. Let's hope the sequel to this book answers the questions that remain unsolved, and that the Harker's don't find themselves being sent to Europe where a majority of other Hunters have been sent. 

Chapter One

One
WINTER WAS SLOWLY releasing its grip on New Haven. Across the campus, trees budded and bloomed, the midmorning sunlight just warm enough to convince the young men to open their coats and abandon hats, but chill enough that they did not linger, heads down, hands tucked into pockets, brightly colored scarves fluttering. Then the bells tolled eleventh hour, and the graveled paths cleared as though by magic, leaving the campus Green still once again.

At the western edge of the Green, a three-story house filled most of a corner lot. Surrounded by a low stone wall, a small plaque at the entrance announcing that the house was property of the university. It, too, was quiet. The white-trim porch boasted a comfortable-looking quartet of chairs and a low mahogany table, as though waiting for warmer afternoons for chess, or some other decorous pursuit.

Past the front door, however, that quiet gave way to chaos. Chairs had been overturned, rugs shoved aside, and the ornately papered walls had been ripped in places. In the middle of one room, Aaron Harker pivoted, arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance without losing sight of his prey, a gray-green figure the size of a cat and the shape of a frog, if a frog were to rise up on two feet and scurry like a ferret.

“Stop them,” a familiar, breathless voice called. “Stop them!” His sister Rosemary, across the room, was holding an iron poker in one hand and a broom in the other, looking like a demented version of Lady Liberty guarding not a harbor but the exit out of the room.

Aaron pivoted again and swore. “What the blazes do you think I’m trying to do?”

The imp he’d been struggling to catch slid between his legs, leaving a trail of slime across his boots, and Aaron, lifting one foot out of the mess, pivoted a third time, getting dizzy from his attempts to follow the creature. They’d managed to chivvy the creatures from the upstairs rooms, but evicting them from the building entire had been more of a challenge. There were at least eight that they’d caught sight of, but they hadn’t exactly been able to line them up and count them.

“Slippery little bastards,” he muttered, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. He’d discarded his jacket and cap across a chair in the parlor, and sweat was making his shirt stick to the small of his back uncomfortably, as though it were deep summer rather than only mid-April.

“Above you!” Rosemary warned, and Aaron looked up to see an imp swinging from the chandelier, screeching insults when it realized it had been spotted. Aaron had just enough time to calculate the likely weight-bearing capabilities of the fixture before the chain gave way, the imp falling with an ear-piercing shriek, followed by the bulk of the chandelier. Clear crystal beads rained down like hail, bouncing and rolling all over the floor.

Aaron threw himself backward just in time, almost tripping over another imp. “Goddamn it.” It had been a long day, starting with an early-morning summons from the provost of the university, and Aaron was tired of playing nice. “Bother, I take it back. Eat them!”

The Molosser hound guarding the staircase gave a sharp bark, the sound resonating throughout the first floor and making the imps shriek again. Botheration let his lower jaw drop in what could almost be considered a grin, sharp white teeth and pink tongue visible, but since Aaron had not given an actual order countermanding the order to guard, he stayed put.

Most uncanny would wet themselves, coming into close quarters with a hound. Imps lacked that level of self-preservation.

“Pbbbttttthhhhtt!” They didn’t have speech, as such, but the meaning was entirely clear, particularly with the gesture the fallen imp made, spoon-fingered hands cupping between its legs before scurrying out of reach. But that movement put it nearer Rosemary and her poker, and she took the opportunity to whack it face-first into the wall.

The remainder of the imps, rather than being dismayed, let out another round of rude cheers, sounding remarkably like the brothers of the university fraternity house they had infested.

“That’s enough out of you.” Two hours of this, and Aaron had reached his breaking point. Although he’d been doing his best to avoid touching them until now, Aaron reached down and grabbed the nearest one by the scruff of its slimy neck, punting it toward Rosemary. With the reflexes that made them an effective team, she swung her broom, hitting the imp square in the chest and sending it flying, falling in a crumpled heap by her previous target.

“Two down, six to go,” she said with grim satisfaction, dropping the now-broken broom handle and hefting the poker with both hands. “Who’s next?”

The remaining imps scrambled up the draperies and over furniture, but Rosemary was clearly just as tired of trying to do this peacefully. Within thirty minutes they had subdued the remaining creatures, leaving them groaning in a pile on the parquet floor.

“We asked you to leave quietly,” Aaron reminded the pile. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

From the bottom of the pile, another rude noise sounded.

“They’re imps. I told you asking nicely wasn’t going to work.”

Aaron glanced at his sister, her curls falling from the braid that had been coiled neatly that morning, her face flushed with exertion, then down to where her fingers still gripped the iron poker, and bit back the response he was going to make. Stepping closer, Aaron gently uncurled her fingers where they’d clenched hard enough around the metal bar to turn her knuckles white, taking the poker from her and putting it aside. “You all right?”

“Yes. Of course.” She sounded offended that he’d even asked. “The day a pile of feral imps is anything more than an annoyance, it’s time to retire. Let’s just get them into the box and be done with this.”

On a proper hunt, there would be a body to dispose of, either by burning, burial, or sinking in a deep body of water, ideally one without strong currents. But while imps were a nuisance to civilized folk—or university students—they weren’t particularly dangerous, and their corpses would turn the soil noxious. While meeting with the provost, the Harkers had arranged for a wooden crate lined with flat iron plates to be left by the side of the house. Once they had secured the imps within, an employee of the university would haul them back out into the countryside. Odds were something out there would eat them before too long, which was likely why they’d come into town in the first place.

Their mistake, Huntsmen remedied.

After reclaiming his jacket, Aaron fixed his collar and slicked his hair back before replacing his cap. There was nothing to be done about the sweat, but from a distance, he looked respectable once again.

Taking the coal shovel from the fireplace, he used it to lift the first of the knocked-out imps, gingerly carrying it out the front door to where the box waited, half-hidden by the thick trunk of an elm tree. Unpainted wood, half as tall as Aaron and twice as wide, the stenciled lettering on the box’s sides suggested an earlier incarnation, but it didn’t need to be pretty to be effective.

It took several trips to clear the house, even with Rosemary disdaining the use of the shovel and merely dragging them out, one in each fist. Each body made a wet, hollow noise as it thumped against the others, and several of them twitched faintly but otherwise remained knocked out. The iron plates couldn’t kill them, not merely by contact, but they did enough damage to keep them docile for a while. Hopefully, long enough for them to be dumped somewhere far away.

When the last of the pile had been deposited, Aaron let the lid drop shut a final time, the iron latch falling into place with a satisfying clank.

“And good riddance,” Rosemary said. “We should do one more tour of the house, but I suspect they all came out to play once you threatened to set it on fire. Which, by the way, and I shouldn’t need to remind you, is never the answer.”

Aaron sniffed at his sleeve, then his hand, and made a face. “Fire might be the only thing that gets this smell out. And the ooze… ugh.”

She clucked her tongue at him. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, it’s worse.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. “And they say women are too dainty for this work. Fine. I’ll clear; you wash your hands. Bother”—and she called the hound over from where he’d wandered to relieve himself—“guard!”

The hound settled himself a few feet from the box, nose on paws and gaze intent on his target. After using the garden pump to splash the worst off his skin, Aaron leaned against the stone wall and studied his four-legged companion. “A lot of help you were,” he said. “Although I’ll grant you I wouldn’t want them in my teeth, either.”

Bother’s erect ear twitched, acknowledgment that he was being spoken to, but otherwise he did not respond.

Aaron shifted again, his skin twitching. Rosemary could tease him all she liked, but he could still feel the weight of imp ooze. It would take more than a splash of cold water to erase the memory.

“Mr. Harker?”

Knocked from his wistful thoughts of a long hot bath, Aaron’s left hand reached for the bone-handled knife at his hip even as he turned, relaxing only when he saw the two men standing on the other side of the wall. The speaker was the provost, a stern-faced man with a slicked-back mustache that would have better suited a younger man, and a pinched look between his eyes. His suit was now covered by a long black coat, a fashionable derby set on top of his head, and a blue-and-white knit muffler similar to those worn by the students wrapped around his neck, but the sour expression on his face was the same they’d seen in his office a few hours earlier.

In comparison, the man next to him was an expressionless shadow in brown, a short coat and uniform with its polished black buttons up and down, and buffed black shoes underneath, immediately identifying him as a member of the Messenger Service. The service seemed to choose their employees based on unremarkableness; Aaron suspected that even if he stared for an hour, ten minutes later he wouldn’t be able to recall the shape of the face under the cap or the color of his skin.

“Mr. Harker,” the provost said again, clearly annoyed that Aaron had not responded already. Aaron was thankful Rosemary was still inside; beyond the fact that the man had summoned them like tradespeople, the provost clearly had little use for women, and Rosemary had no use for men who had little use for women.

Aaron nodded once, waiting; he saw no need to confirm that he was, yes, still Mr. Harker.

“It’s done?” the provost asked, his tone somehow managing to be both hopeful and disdainful. In response, Aaron nodded toward the box, even as something within thumped once, weakly, and then fell silent. Then some mischief took over his tongue, and he said, “You should warn your boys about leaving food out. You never know what’s going to come to dinner.”

If possible, the provost’s scowl deepened.

And then, because if he was going to be treated like a tradesman, he might as well act like one, Aaron said, “You have our fee?”

There was a moment where Aaron thought he might have pushed too far, but the provost reached inside his coat and withdrew a slender brown envelope, which he handed to Aaron over the wall.

There was a temptation to brush his hand against the man’s sleeve, to see if he would jump back in polite horror, but the weight of the messenger waiting made Aaron simply take the envelope, slipping it into his own coat pocket.

Huntsmen worked for the greater good of humanity. But they had bills to pay, too.

The transaction completed, the provost wasted no time departing, acknowledging neither Aaron nor the messenger beyond a brusque nod.

Both men watched him leave, then the messenger turned back to Aaron.

“Aaron Harker?”

“That’s me,” he agreed. Unlike the provost, the messenger had reason to confirm his identity.

The man handed him an envelope of his own. This one was a simple cream-colored envelope, sealed with a delicate bronze drop of wax pressed with a plain signet. Despite its travel, the corners were undented, the paper itself unmarked, as though other letters had been afraid to touch it.

Orders from the Circle, in Boston.

There was a bitter irony somewhere, Aaron was certain, that now was the moment the Circle chose to resume contact. Not that there was a rule against Huntsmen working directly for anyone, thankfully. The stipend they received from the Circle covered the basics, but not much beyond that, and while the Harkers did not live extravagantly, there were books and wine and new shoes to be acquired on a regular basis, and Botheration was not inexpensive to feed.

And there had been no official hunts coming their way for several months now, which had meant a smaller stipend.

No hunts, no communication at all. Because of Brunson. Not that anyone would say so. But the Harkers had grown up knowing that they were slightly beyond the pale, knowing that they had to prove themselves more than others, and he knew, even if Rosemary wouldn’t admit it, that they were being censured.

And yet, there was no way the Circle could know what had really happened in Brunson. Their report had been clear: an uncanny had murdered three people, and a fourth had died during the hunt, of causes unknown. All truth. Simply not… all the truth.

Sensing Aaron’s mood, Bother chose that moment to stand up, drawing attention to himself. The messenger, to give him credit, didn’t flinch at the approach of the massive beast but stood his ground, his gaze fixed on the human, not hound.

Aaron rubbed a thumb across the wax seal, though not hard enough break it. “Are you supposed to wait for a response?”

“I was not requested to do so, Mr. Harker.”

“Fine.” Aaron tucked the letter into his pocket, equally careful not to crease it, and pulled a quarter coin from the other pocket, offering it to the man. “Thank you.”

When Rosemary reappeared a few minutes later, her own attire and appearance repaired, both Aaron and Bother had their attention fixed on the imp box, only the envelopes heavy in his pocket proof anyone else had been there at all.

She stepped off the porch steps and stopped. “What happened?”

He couldn’t resist. “Why do you think anything happened?”

She just stared, hands on her hips, until he relented, pulling the envelopes out to show her.

“Finally,” she said, exhaling her relief, stepping forward to reach not for the envelope with their pay, but the one with their new assignment. He pulled it out of her reach just as her fingers touched it and, when she scowled at him, tilted his head to indicate the two burly workmen approaching from the Green, a heavy handcart pulled behind them.

“It can wait until we’re home,” he said.

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#Review - Good Girls Don't Die by Christina Henry #Horror #Thrillers #Suspense

Series: Standalone
Format: Paperback, 336 pages
Release Date: November 14, 2023
Publisher: Berkley
Source: Publisher
Genre: Horror / Thrillers / Suspense

A sharp-edged, supremely twisty thriller about three women who find themselves trapped inside stories they know aren’t their own, from the author of Alice and Near the Bone.

Celia wakes up in a house that’s supposed to be hers. There’s a little girl who claims to be her daughter and a man who claims to be her husband, but Celia knows this family—and this life—is not hers…

Allie is supposed to be on a fun weekend trip—but then her friend’s boyfriend unexpectedly invites the group to a remote cabin in the woods. No one else believes Allie, but she is sure that something about this trip is very, very wrong…

Maggie just wants to be home with her daughter, but she’s in a dangerous situation and she doesn’t know who put her there or why. She’ll have to fight with everything she has to survive…

Three women. Three stories. Only one way out. This captivating novel will keep readers guessing until the very end.
 

Christina Henry's Good Girls Don't Die is a story that follows three women who wake up in a fantasy like world reminiscent of an episode of Black Mirror. The main players are Celia, Allison, and Maggie. The book itself is broken into 4 sections with 1 section each for the three main players. Celia wakes up in a house that’s supposed to be hers. There’s a little girl who claims to be her daughter and a man who claims to be her husband, but Celia knows this family—and this life—is not hers. 

 

Even though she has a New York State drivers license, and even though she clearly has some skills as a restaurant owner and cook, there is something at the back of her mind telling her that this is all wrong. Then things spiral out of control. A woman who Celia argued with ends up dead, and she receives a phone call saying "You're going to pay for what you've done. Women like you always get what they deserve." Is this some sort of survival game? Someone did this to Celia. Someone stripped her of her life and now it is time to fight back. It appears that someone intends to treat Celia like she's one of the Stepford wives by stripping away her entire identity. 

Allison is supposed to be on a fun weekend trip with her best fiends Cam and Madison. When her friend’s boyfriends (Brad & Steve) unexpectedly shows up and invites the group to a remote cabin in the woods, Allison is weary about being a third wheel. To make matters more twisted, Alli is an aficionado of horror classics. Let's call this scenario Cabin in the Woods.  She knows most if not all of the signs that something is wrong. No one else believes Allie, but when the car they were riding in is destroyed, and one by one her friends are attacked and left for dead, Allie knows that someone has picked her for some sort of sick survival game.

 

Maggie wakes up to find that she is with 8 other women who seemed to have been chosen for some sort of survival game. The people running the game claim that they have no right to refuse anything they are told to do or they will lose someone close to them. In Maggie's case, that is her daughter who she fought tooth and nail to get away from her psycho ex-boyfriend. Maggie allies herself with a woman named Sonya to try to get though the maze and the ending that wakes for them. Let's call Maggie's scenario a cross between the Hunger Games and the Maze Runner.

At the end of the main characters parts in the story, they each find a door where the have escaped from a mob of men who want them dead. Maggie, Allison, Sonya, and Celia now have to figure out why they were chosen in particular. There are hints along the way that should give readers a clue as to why they were chosen, and who is responsible. Let's just say that the twists at the end of the book are not only surprising but unexpected. It is mentioned quiet a few times along the way that these character think of themselves in terms of books like Hunger Games, Truman Show, and Black Mirror.

 

CHAPTER ONE

mysterybkluv: who else here loves cozy mysteries best?

poirotsgirl: cozies are my fave, esp if they have recipes in the back

mysterybkluv: ngl it would be great to live in a small town where there are lots of low-stakes murders and I could solve them while working in my family restaurant

tyz7412: lol living the dream

"Mom."

"Earth to Mom. Come in, Mom."

"Mom, I'm going to be late for the bus!"

Celia shook her head. The small person beside her was blurry, out of focus. Did she need glasses now?

And why was this person calling her "Mom"?

Celia blinked hard, once, twice, and the little person came into focus. A girl-maybe ten, eleven years old?-staring at her expectantly, holding an open backpack.

"What?" Celia asked.

"My lunch," the girl said. "I need my lunch. Did you drink enough coffee this morning?"

Celia looked down. In front of her, on a white countertop, was an open cloth lunch bag. Inside it there was already a plastic bag of sliced apples, a bag of all-natural puffed corn snacks (cheese flavored), and a chocolate soy milk.

A piece of waxed paper lay unfolded on the counter. What is all this disposable packaging? I would never buy things like this.

"Mom!" The little person was getting really insistent now. "Sandwich!"

Celia couldn't think. She needed this small girl to leave so she could organize her thoughts.

Why does she keep calling me "Mom"? I don't have any children.

"Two minutes!" the girl screeched.

There was a loaf of wheat bread and a package of cheese from the deli next to the waxed paper. Celia took out two pieces of bread.

"One piece in half! Mom, what's wrong with you today?"

"Sorry," Celia said, cutting the single slice of bread in half. "How much cheese?"

"Two pieces! Come on, come on!"

You're old enough to do this yourself, Celia thought as she folded the bread around the cheese, wrapped the sandwich in waxed paper and shoved everything in the lunch bag. The girl grabbed it, stuffed it in her pack and sprinted toward the door.

"Bye, love you!" she said as she threw the door open, then slammed it shut behind her.

Celia walked like a sleepwalker to the window next to the door and peered out. The little girl was running down a long inclined driveway toward what appeared to be a country road. Across the street there was nothing to see except trees, tall trees that looked like older-growth maple, oak and ash.

The little girl reached the end of the drive just as a yellow school bus pulled up in front of the mailbox. She clambered onto the bus and it pulled away.

She's gone. Now I can think.

Footsteps sounded overhead and Celia glanced up at the ceiling in alarm. The steps moved across the floor, and a moment later Celia heard someone large coming down the stairs. She couldn't see the stairs from where she stood. The kitchen was attached to a dining room on one side and a hallway on the other. Celia peered into the hall. The bottom of the stairs was at the far end.

A strange man rounded the banister and headed toward her, frowning at his cell phone as he walked. Celia backed away from him, her heart pounding. Her butt bumped into the edge of the counter. She scrambled around it and positioned herself close to the door so she could run if she needed to do so. She looked down at her feet. Socks. Not even slippers. There was a pair of low shelves positioned next to the door with shoes neatly arranged on them. One of those pairs should be hers. But would she have time enough to figure out which pair, put them on and get out the door?

"Hey, babe, I've got a ton of meetings this morning," the man said. "I'll stop by the restaurant at lunchtime."

Who is he?

The man was very tall, at least six inches taller than herself, and she wasn't a small woman. He had dark hair cut in what she thought of as "millennial fund manager" style and wore a well-tailored gray suit. He had a gym-toned look about him and altogether gave the impression of someone who belonged in a city. This impression was reinforced when he pulled on an expensive-looking wool overcoat. His shoes, Celia noted, were very shiny.

He leaned close to her and kissed her cheek absently, still looking at the phone so he didn't notice the way she inched backward. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, something musky and heavy. Her nose twitched.

"See you later," he said, and disappeared out the same door as the little girl.

Celia went to the window and pulled one blind up to peek out. The man who'd called her "babe," the man who'd kissed her goodbye, had gotten into a black Audi SUV that was parked at the top of the driveway. He backed down the drive and pulled out onto the road, heading in the opposite direction of the bus.

An Audi. City guy, she thought again, and then wondered why she thought this.

Because I live in a city and I see those kinds of guys all the time, she thought, but the thought was like a stabbing pain in her head. She looked around the kitchen, then out the window once more.

Clearly, she did not live in a city. Why did she think she lived in a city?

But now, finally, all the people were gone from the house and she could stop and think.

The kitchen was large and had a white countertop that wrapped around half of the room and then extended out on the third side as a breakfast bar. There were stools lined up along that side, facing the dining room.

Celia pulled one out, sat on it and stared at the rectangular dining room table and chairs, done in some heavy dark wood that she never would have chosen for herself. She didn't like dark wood, didn't like the formality of it, and she definitely didn't like anything that looked like it would need regular polishing. Celia hated to clean, and she particularly hated to dust and polish. That dining room table represented everything she didn't want in a piece of furniture.

"I didn't buy that," she murmured. "I have a round oak table."

Again, there was a little stabbing feeling between her eyes, and she rubbed the spot with her forefinger. Obviously she didn't have a round table. The two people who'd rushed out of the house seemed to think she lived there, that she belonged there.

And that guy, that guy who kissed me goodbye-he did look a little familiar.

"He said he would see me at the restaurant. Do I work at a restaurant?"

She had a vague memory of her hands collecting dishes from a table, of tucking a notepad into an apron.

Maybe I drank a lot last night. Or maybe I had a mini stroke or something.

The only thing she knew for sure was that her first name was Celia.

She stood up again and walked into the dining room. At one side of the room there was a large cabinet with glass doors on top and drawers on the bottom. The cabinet matched the dining set, and she crinkled her nose at it.

I hate that matchy-matchy thing. I bet all the dishes are in a matching pattern, too.

When she opened the glass doors, she confirmed that her prediction was accurate. All the tableware and serving plates were in a matching pattern, a kind of country floral that made her think of wedding registries.

On the wall opposite the cabinet there was a large, posed photograph of three people. The background was soft gray, like they'd been in a photo studio. There was Celia, sitting next to the tall dark-haired man. They both wore white-cabled fisherman-style sweaters. The lunch-demanding little girl stood in front of them, positioned so that she was halfway between them. She, too, wore a cabled sweater, this one in pink. All three of them had the slightly glazed eyes and overly toothy smiles that came with posed photography.

This is my family? Celia thought, then told herself, more firmly, This is my family.

There was obviously something wrong with her today. Amnesia seemed unlikely. Early-onset dementia?

It can't be dementia. I'm only thirty-four.

"Ah!" she said, and clapped her hands together. She'd remembered something else. She was thirty-four.

Okay, okay, you just need to walk around for a bit and then you'll remember everything. Maybe you just didn't sleep well or something.

She paced slowly through the dining room and into the living room. Leather furniture-more yuck-a huge entertainment system, several more photographs of herself and her family caught in various activities: eating drippy ice cream cones, building sandcastles, taking a picture with a certain mouse at an amusement park. Regular family things.

There was something about the pictures that bothered her, but she looked at them for a few minutes and couldn't put her finger on it, so she moved on.

She climbed the stairs and found four rooms upstairs-two bedrooms, one office and a bathroom. The little girl's bedroom had posters of Korean pop stars and a pile of soccer gear in the corner. The carpet was pink and so were the walls. It wasn't to Celia's taste, but then it wasn't her room, so it didn't matter.

The second bedroom wasn't to her taste, either, but apparently this was her bedroom.

The bedroom I share with that strange man, she thought, with a trickle of unease.

Like the furniture downstairs, everything in the bedroom was made of heavy, dark wood, with a thick blue carpet underfoot. She didn't like wall-to-wall carpeting, and yet it was everywhere in this house. On an end table on one side of the bed there was a wedding photograph of a younger Celia smiling next to the strange man. Beside the photograph was a brown leather purse.

Brand name, high-end. I wouldn't have bought this for myself. It's a waste of money. The Audi guy must have bought it. He seems like the type to care about stuff like this.

Celia sat on the edge of the bed and emptied the purse onto the dark blue comforter. A large wallet fell out, along with a pack of Trident spearmint gum, a package of tissues, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a powder compact, a hairbrush, a cherry-flavored ChapStick and some business cards.

Standard purse contents, but like the photos she'd seen downstairs, something seemed to be missing. She just couldn't think of what that something might be.

She opened the wallet and found a New York State driver's license with her photo on it. The name listed was "Celia Zinone." She said the name to herself. It seemed right, unlike everything else she'd experienced so far. There was a debit card and two credit cards in the same name, and a few more family photos-mostly the posed kind-in the photo flap. All the photos were of her immediate family. Did she have no parents? No brothers or sisters or nieces or nephews?

Celia picked up the stack of business cards. They advertised Zinone's Italian Family Restaurant next to a cartoon of a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Her own name was listed underneath as the owner, and beneath that was the address and phone number.

I run a restaurant. Okay.

She again had a flash of memory-of stirring a giant pot of sauce, of folding ingredients into layers of lasagna.

"He said he would see me at the restaurant at lunch," Celia said.

She looked at the business card again. So she should probably get dressed and take herself to this restaurant. Maybe going to work would help her remember more.

Terror clutched at her for a moment. It was as though she stood beside a dizzying abyss, with no real sense of self, no memories, no knowledge of what she'd done the previous day or even that morning before the little girl started shouting about her lunch.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes and her heart seemed like it was trying to escape her chest. Her breath came in hard pants and she heard the wheezy quality of it, an inability to get the oxygen all the way to the bottom of her lungs.

She dug her fingers into the comforter on either side of her legs, feeling the material scrunch beneath her hands.

Calm, calm, calm. Breathe, breathe, breathe. You're okay. You're not in danger.

Hard on the heels of that thought came another one. Why would I be in danger?

Celia forced herself to take deep, calming breaths, and after a few moments, her heart rate slowed, though its beating still seemed unnaturally loud to her.

I just need to go to the restaurant and then things will click into place. But how will I get there? I'm not sure where I am in relation to it.

She glanced over the items on the bed and realized what was missing. A cell phone. Surely she had one. Where had she left it, though?

She checked all the surfaces in the bedroom and found two charging stations on top of the dresser. Assuming the strange man (your husband) didn't carry two cell phones, then one of the chargers was for her phone.

Why wasn't it in her purse? She always kept her phone in her purse when it wasn't on the charger. She didn't like to use it in the house.

Celia grabbed on to that thought the same way she'd done with the memory of her age. It was something concrete, something solid that she knew about herself for certain. She avoided using her phone in the house because she didn't want to be one of these people who mindlessly scrolled all day.

But she couldn't find it in the bedroom, no matter how many drawers she opened or pockets she checked. She did note the type of clothes in the closet-conservative-looking sweaters and button-down blouses in low-key colors, lots of beige and gray and black and soft pastels. The sight of them made her feel, again, that these weren't things she would have chosen for herself. She was more of a happy-print skirt and quirky T-shirt girl.

For a third time her forehead stabbed with pain, and she wondered if she needed to hydrate more, or perhaps a migraine was coming on.

A loud ringing echoed through the house, the sound of an old-fashioned rotary dial phone. The noise pulled Celia out of the bedroom and down the stairs in search of the source, and she ended up back in the kitchen, where she'd begun

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