The Summer Guests (The Martini Club, #2)

by Tess Gerritsen

But it was not Sam Tarkin looking back at him. And it was not Sam Tarkin who pulled the trigger.

Maggie and Declan, Ben and Ingrid—had first bonded as clandestine officer trainees.

Ben Diamond, bull necked and muscular, with a glare that could freeze an assailant in his tracks. Eagle-eyed Ingrid Slocum, always the quickest to think her way out of any locked room. And Declan Rose, the dashing diplomat’s son who could charm a stranger with just his smile. Four decades later, their hair was grayer—or, in Ben’s case, shaved off entirely—and along with the passage of time had come the inevitable wrinkles and stiff joints and more than a few extra pounds. But the Farm veterans were still the Four Musketeers, undaunted by the encroaching years, eager for any challenge.

She had no idea how a writer’s mind worked, but she imagined it was like a dozen different voices shouting in your head, demanding you tell their story their way. It seemed like a form of madness.

The wealthy often liked to masquerade as common folk, and Maine was where they came to indulge that fantasy.

He’d tangled more than once with their older son, Colin, a golden-haired, strapping boy who liked to stand with his arms crossed, always spoiling for a fight, unlike the younger boy, Ethan, who was forever hiding behind a book.

Everything is about to change, he thought. The Conovers are back in town.

What was it about growing older that turned you into a bird-watcher and made you invest in expensive optical equipment?

That’s what her marriage had taught her: the more fiercely you loved someone, the deeper the pain when you lost them.

“People can justify almost anything, Maggie. That’s why history keeps repeating itself.”