It comes from Samuel — her cousin, spending the summer at his uncle's house in a seaside town she has not seen in more than twenty years. He writes with his usual easy charm. And then, almost in passing, he writes something else:
“It’s not all blue skies in my uncle’s paradise. There is a master thief around. People are losing their family jewels, and the police are nowhere close to catching the artist.
Not that I’m much bothered by rich people losing valuables, but I remember how much you loved solving mysteries when we were younger. You see through things… through people.
I know you know where I’m going with this. How do you feel about visiting Summerset?”
— Samuel
“The last time I saw Summerset, I could hardly have been more than eight years old; my hair then was as golden as the sand.”
“Papa never failed to book the same little beach cottage by the rock shaped like an old man’s head. Mama would wear her grand ostrich-feather hat that made her look for all the world like an opera singer…”
“And now… I must go back. Alone.”
Abby does not hesitate long. By the time the telegram cools on the table, she has already chosen.
A room awaits her at a well-known boarding house. A cousin waits at the end of the line. A town she remembers only in fragments is preparing, quite innocently, for its Summer Festival.
Who Abby meets when she steps off the train. What she finds when she unpacks her case. Whether she is walking into a small summer diversion — or something far older, and far stranger.
Hand-crafted scenes. Rooms that don’t give up their objects easily.
SEE HOW IT PLAYS