Puzzles are tangled and twisted and take time to solve. For me, at least, the writing process is like that. The ideas dont come in a straight line. Things that happened many years ago can come to the fore, finding expression in the present.
Growing up near Tuxedo Park, I was fascinated whenever we drove past the guarded entrance and wondered about the secret world beyond the gates. As an adult, Ive had the chance to go inside and discover that what truly exists there is even more majestic and magical than the version conjured by my youthful imagination. I became haunted by the thought of evil lurking in this protected and idyllic place.
Tina McEvoy and Pam Graetzer shared their understanding of Tuxedo Park, showing me around and revealing one curious and marvelous location after another. It was with them that the story began to really come alive as I began to imagine my characters moving through that unique world. Many thanks as well to Jim Jospe, who very generously lent me his extensive collection of books about Tuxedo Park.
Inspiration also came from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Trips to Italy aroused an interest in the life and death of St. Francis of Assisi along with an appreciation of all things Italian. While I was viewing the magnificent architecture, sculptures, frescoes, and ceramics in that fabulous country, the puzzle began to loosely take shape.
In brainstorming sessions, Father Paul Holmes shared his passion for Italy and extensive knowledge of religious history. Initially, the idea of suicide by stigmata took his breath away, but he seized on it with enthusiasm. If not for his reaction, I dont know if I would have felt secure enough to continue with the concept. Throughout the writing of this book, he offered wonderfully creative ideas, exacting research, and unflagging encouragement. Tante, tante grazie, Paolo, for all that you do.
Criminal defense attorney Joseph Hayden graciously answered some last-minute questions about the legal ramifications of my characters dastardly deeds. I owe you and Katharine a dinner, Joe.
Fortunately, Carrie Feron is my editor. She did an expert job of trimming, tightening, and making the manuscript better. The story is stronger and more suspenseful because of her considerable talent and skill. Once again, Carrie and her trusted assistant, Tessa Woodward, carefully shepherded the book through all its stages. Their professionalism is greatly appreciated.
Maureen Sugden copyedited with exacting care. Her notes were a joy to read and consider. Thanks to Mary Schuck and Richard Aquan for designing an enticing cover. Im very grateful for the support of everyone at William Morrow, including Liate Stehlik, Lynn Grady, Sharyn Rosenblum, Nicole Chismar, Bobby Brinson, and Virginia Stanley.
Beth Tindall designs and runs maryjaneclark.com, while Colleen Kenny produces the much-commented-on movie trailers. Thanks to them for making it possible for me to enjoy the benefits of all their hard work.
Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and Joni Evans are still guiding my writing career. Between them, they offer the best of everything: experience, business acumen, pragmatism, wisdom, and sage editorial advice. It is an invaluable asset to be able to call on them.
And finally, my boundless thanks to Peggy Gould. She knows why.
It Only Takes a Moment
When Day Breaks
Lights Out Tonight
Dancing in the Dark
Hide Yourself Away
Nowhere to Run
Nobody Knows
Close to You
Let Me Whisper in Your Ear
Do You Promise Not to Tell?
Do You Want to Know a Secret?
There is no Black Tie Club in Tuxedo Park. In describing the fictitious Black Tie Club, I took certain liberties, inspired by the private club that does exist there and by other exclusive social clubs where prospective members yearn to gain admittance and sometimes never know exactly why they are denied.
St. Francis of Assisis Canticle of the Sun was written in the thirteenth century. Translations from the medieval Italian vary.
Si trova tutto nel tavolo grande, the message in St. Franciss halo in the aviary fresco, means All can be found in the large table.
MARY JANE CLARK is the New York Times bestselling author of twelve novels, including When Day Breaks and It Only Takes a Moment . A former writer and producer at CBS News in New York City, she knows intimately the world of which she writes. The daughter of an FBI agent and mother of two, she lives in New Jersey and Florida.
www.maryjaneclark.com
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Y ou look pretty, Mom.
Facing the mirror, Eliza stared at the reflection of the child standing behind her in the middle of the bathroom floor. Janie was wearing her soccer uniform. One kneesock was bunched around her thin ankle, dirt smudged both her knees, and more wisps of brown hair sprang free from her ponytail than were caught up in it. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from running up and down the school field. Turning, Eliza bent and kissed her seven-year-old daughter on the top of the head.
Thank you, sweetheart. Eliza held herself back from gathering the child in her arms and holding her close. It was a familiar urge now, the desire to hang on to Janie and not let go. Almost three months since the kidnapping, and Eliza still woke up in a cold sweat many nights. How close shed come to losing her only child, the daughter whose father had tragically died before she was even born, the little girl who was at the center of Elizas world.
I want to come with you, said Janie.
I wish you could, honey, but its a party for adults. There wont be any children there.
But Valentina and Innis would want me to come, insisted Janie, hands on hips. They like me. When we went to their house that time, they said I could come again anytime I want.
Eliza turned back to the mirror and picked up a tube of mascara. I know they did. And we will go there again. Remember I told you about the little house weve rented near the Wheelocks? Our lease starts next week. Im sure well be able to visit Valentina and Innis when we go up there on weekends.
Janies expression brightened. Can we go in the birdhouse?
Its called an aviary, Janie, and I think that can be arranged.
You know, they have a bird in there that talks, said Janie.
A parrot?
Uh-huh. Innis showed me. And it can tell you what it likes.
Really? asked Eliza as she put gloss on her lips.
Yep. It says sun and air and grapes. It likes to eat grapes.
Youll have to show it to me, said Eliza.
Mollified, Janie followed her mother as she walked into the bedroom, went to the closet, and took the jewelry case from the wall safe.