My favorite of the series thus far!
I'm obsessed with coastal Maine and therefore appreciate any book that can transport me to that rocky coast, riddled with beach rose, the cry of a gull overhead, ringing buoy bells, distant fog horns on stormy grey seas, lobster boats in the harbor, salty seaweed air, creaking swaying docks, cable knit sweaters, lighthouses winking in the dark...
I tend to read these while on vacation in Maine and have purchased three books from the same Blue Willow gift shop, in Perkins Cove, each year! It's my little tradition.
I enjoyed the previous two books of the series very much but this one just really sucked me into that Maine surrounding and gosh these books have some fun investigation plots!
I find Brie very likable and the way the author describes everything she does, wears, eats, etc. it just feels like I'm the character or something and I enjoy feeling encompassed by my character's surroundings and this author does it brilliantly! I feel like I just ate a delicious meal at the diner upon her finishing, I feel like I hopped into a car and went to investigate a lead in Machias, I feel like I put on a cozy cable knit sweater after a warm shower as a Nor'Easter wreaks havoc against the cozy inn's walls...
Some of my favorite highlights from book are:
Well, my favorite part to come across was page 1 as it coincidentally talks about Bar Harbor/Acadia (see previous review of "Historic Acadia National Park") and I was just about to visit there for my 2nd time when I was reading this...
"The Maine Wind felt its way along the coast on a heading east by northeast. Brie Beaumont zipped her jacket, turned up the collar of her wool sweater, made her way to the bow of the ship to man the fog horn. The sun-a constant companion in the early part of the day-now was a fickle friend. They had weighed anchor in Southwest Harbor for their long day's voyage northeast along the coast to Tucker Harbor, Maine. Cadillac Mountain, the crowning glory of Acadia National Park, had worn a cap of golden light as they'd sailed beneath it and across the mouth of Frenchman Bay, where spruce-covered islands rose like green pleasure domes from the blue Atlantic.
They were now off Schoodic Point, which drifted in and out of fog like the mythical land of Brigadoon. Over the last half-hour, Brie witnessed all the elements on display here. A large cloud would open and send a wall of rain over the point. The sun would blaze out and shoot a rainbow across rockbound shore. Then the fog would roll back in and the dance would begin anew, as if Mother Nature couldn't decide how to attire herself.
After Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park, the last vestiges of hardcore tourism fell away. Beyond Schoodic Point, the Atlantic opened up, sheer cliffs rose from the sea, and the tides ran in and out of the Bay of Fundy with a vengeance. The Bold Coast, austere and wildly beautiful, awaited.
A few hundred yards ahead a thick fog bank rolled toward them. Brie cranked the old Lothrup foghorn and let out a long blast followed by two short blasts, the signal for a sailboat underway. She checked the second hand on her watch, cranked again, and two minutes later let out another blast-one long, two short. The scene replayed itself over and over until they sailed free of the fog bank forty minutes later.
Beyond Schoodic Point, the wind was building, stirring up the sea and hurling spindrift across the bow of the Maine Wind. To the northeast, a leaden sky lurked on the distant horizon, a potential omen of trouble brewing away Down East. Brie turned the phrase over in her mind as she snugged the jib sheet, ran it around the belaying pin in a figure eight, and made it off. "Down East" was an expression born in the golden age of sail when mariners would be sailing downwind, traveling east along the coast of Maine, where many of the ships' captains lived. And so, Maine came to be known as Down East." (page 1 and 2)
Ahhh now doesn't that just conjure up a sensation of actually being in Maine? I always say my heart belongs in Maine...who knows perhaps I'll live there one day. I've been visiting Maine each year since at least 4 years old...though I didn't start spending overnight trips there until after I was married, but my husband and I go to Maine 3 times a summer for days to nearly a week at a time, for the past 9 years and I'm so glad my husband has a (new-found) passion for Maine as I do! We have our favorite spots but we're planning on incorporating new places (like how we discovered Bar Harbor/Acadia last year). I also would LOVE to visit more famous lighthouses of Maine!
"They walked into the room to their left. Brie had visited or stayed at a few inns in Maine since she had arrived, and they all seemed to share a certain comfortable hominess, she thought. Like Great Aunt Mildred's parlor might have looked, if she had a Great Aunt Mildred with a parlor, that is. The Whale Spout Inn did not disappoint with its pine floors and colorful throw rugs. An antique sofa with rose colored velvet upholstery sat near the fireplace. A pale green knitted throw lay across one of its arms. Opposite the sofa, two high-back chairs covered with a multi-colored tapestry flanked the other side of the fireplace. The back wall of the room was covered with dark wood bookcases filled with books and a variety of maritime objects and ships' models. The inns she had visited always had lots of books, something that particularly delighted her. Maine seemed to be a bookish place-at least the coastal areas she had visited." (page 54)
"Brie left the diner and started down the road that ran through the village between the shore and docks on one side and the houses on the other. Narrow as it was where it came through the village, the road was actually part of the highway that continued wast along the Bold Coast, all the way to Lubec, Maine. Near Lubec, the famous West Quoddy Head lighthouse-easternmost point in the U.S. -stood watch over the Bay of Fundy from its high cliffs. She would have gotten to see it from the ship during this voyage. That opportunity had been lost when she'd come ashore to work the case." (page 61)
"Brie followed the road back out of Machias the way she had come in. Once outside the town limits, she mentally reviewed the interview with _______-both what he had said as well as her conjecture about what the real truth was. At this point she had no reason either to believe or disbelieve what he had told her. She had learned long ago that she seldom got the whole truth from a suspect or person of interest, but rather a version of the truth. Therefore, she didn't take testimony at face value. In her book, the truth was always discounted. Once you had stripped away the layers of embellishment, half-truths, and outright lies, the truth was what you had left. It was a process of distillation, with the detective as alchemist. (page 89)
"She woke to the sound of the foghorn at the entrance to the harbor. She lay for a few minutes listening to its mournful call. Out the windows of her room a soft, gray world had replaced the one with sharp edges and definition. The fog seemed a metaphor for her mood this morning." (page 104)