I glance at the toothy dinosaur on the wall. No other guest has commented on either of these things before, and within two minutes he’s pointed both out. I’m not sure if I like it or not. Most people aren’t that observant, which generally works in my favor. From the New York Times bestselling author of Midwives and The Sandcastle Girls comes the spellbinding tale of a party gone horribly wrong: two men lie dead in a suburban living room, two women are on the run from police, and a marriage is ripping apart at the seams.

I clear my throat. “This is the living area, which you’re free to use whenever you like. Same with the kitchen. There’s an empty shelf for you in the fridge.”I walk into the road and follow the white lines down the middle. My throat is dry. I swallow another mouthful of wine. I loved Steph,insecurities and all and the way she tried so hard to be happy after she lost everything,at times naive more often though just vulnerable she had no idea was was ‘afoot’ At first it was hard, letting them in. Every noise and movement, every time they were in the kitchen, the bathroom, turning around to find them smiling at me—grating.

Rosie loved eggs. Her favorite was scrambled on buttery crumpets. I remember making it for her one morning last autumn. But when I put the plate on the table, she shook her head, saying she wasn’t hungry. Her face was a cardboard color, the skin under her eyes white. Minutes later, she grabbed a crumpet with her fingers and bit off a chunk, a violence to her chewing. But then she stopped, ran to the sink, and spat it out. I pushed Nalika’s food down my throat. But I couldn’t taste any of it. Her restaurant-worthy meals were like cardboard. Flowers also bring life, color, and texture to a space - try to incorporate a couple of scented stems too depending on the time of year. There’s nothing lovelier than walking into a feminine bedroom idea that’s naturally scented with seasonal blooms. What should you have in your guest room?Arran’s beside the counter, tea towel slung over his shoulder. The rustic loaf on the chopping board. Home should be an anchor, a port in a storm, a refuge, a happy place in which to dwell, a place where we are loved and where we can love.” — Elder Marvin J. Ashton It was a good day. Her mood was warmer as we sipped Alhambra beer and ate pipas—sunflower seeds in salted shells. A fly buzzes from somewhere, droning toward the food. It lands on the jammy knife. Arran waves it off, drops the knife in the dishwasher, then starts putting the bread away in the linen bag. She is an outdoorsy person and loves stomping up a mountain, walking the coastal paths and exploring the wonderful glens and beaches on the Island while she's plotting her next book. She has three children and two step-children who are all grown up and leading varied and interesting lives, which provides plenty of material for new stories.