Isn’t it extraordinary to realize that our country is 250 years old? Wow. Even more startling for me is to realize that—gulp—I remember the Bicentennial celebration in 1976.
Did I just date myself?
Hope you have a wonderful day celebrating the explosive birth of our nation into history. Personally, I’m planning to eat crabs today with friends and family, then catch some fireworks.
Still looking for an easy, breezy summer novel about our nation’s founding? Pick up a copy of Spirals of Treason to tuck away into your beach bag. It follows the story of Mercy Allen, a poverty-stricken, but fiercely independent young woman who becomes a renowned wigmaker…and risks her life to maintain her hard-won liberty. Click here for more details and purchase links.
In other news, I was pleased to make the list of “6 Books Inspired by Maryland’s History, Mysteries, and Legends,” published by the BayNet. The list includes such illustrious authors as Laura Lippman and Tom Clancy, so I was truly honored by the inclusion. Have a look, maybe you’ll find a new author to read.
You can’t imagine how much fun Breton Bay Booze is to write. I can’t wait to bring it to you on July 20, 2027 but until then, keep reading for an excerpt of the opening scene. I know it takes me a long time to publish books, but it not only requires considerable time to write them, but then they also go through multiple levels of edits to ensure that I provide you with a quality product.
Although, darn it, some of you rascals still find errors!
Here’s my Book Signing Lineup
If I haven’t met you before, I’d love to do so at one of my signings. If you’ve been to a previous signing, I hope to see you again! Click here to see my calendar of appearances.
As promised last month, I’m giving you a little sneak peek into Breton Bay Booze, the next book in my Heart of St. Mary’s County series. Here is the opening scene.
March 1924
“Faster, Jack, faster! They’re catching up to us!” Pearl tossed her head back in laughter, her teeth so white beneath her red lipstick that they practically glistened. Her impossibly blond hair was tied with a bright orange scarf, but as Jack did as she instructed, the wind whipped around them, pulling out strands that landed in her eyes and mouth.
It was an unseasonably warm day, so for once they weren’t bundled in coats to protect themselves from chilly winds.
Pearl laughed even harder.
Jack pushed the throttle forward more and the Draketail oyster boat’s engine picked up effortlessly. Lady Moll was certainly a perky girl compared to his other oyster boat, an old deadrise oystering craft named Half Shell.
Lady Moll’s rounded stern helped the boat glide silently through the water. Behind them, a Coast Guard rum patrol boat was in close pursuit.
“What the hell is a six-bitter doing all the way back here?” he demanded. It was unusual for one of the Coast Guard’s seventy-five-foot-long patrol boats to be this far inland. They usually stayed far off-shore in the Chesapeake Bay or the Atlantic. The smaller, thirty-six-foot picket boats were what Jack was used to encountering.
He had no time to wonder about it, for Pearl was gesturing at him.
“Use the smokescreen!” she shouted in even greater excitement. Jack had never seen her so exhilarated. If they were caught, it could mean time in the county jail for both of them.
He should have known better than to try and make a daytime run.
He punched the button on the console. Immediately, an enormous cloud of dark smoke belched out from the rear of their craft, engulfing the pursuing boat.
Pearl waved in the direction of the Coast Guard craft, still laughing.
“Hush,” he said, more sharply than he intended. Pearl sobered at his command.
They were nearing a tiny cove with lush overgrowth along its banks. Jack cut the engine and raised a finger to his lips as they made their way into the narrow passage with barely a ripple in the water. Pearl nodded.
Jack turned back to ensure they weren’t being followed. The smoke was clearing, and he caught a glimpse of the Coast Guard boat’s captain, who was scowling, as well as shouting curses that carried clearly across the water. The captain also shook his fist in the air in the direction of where Jack’s boat had been a minute ago.
He doesn’t see us. We’re safe.
From a distance, the captain looked an awful lot like Sammy Thompson, an old high school classmate. Not a popular fellow as Jack recalled. How had such a wet blanket risen to become the captain of a naval vessel?
Jack frowned. Yet, wasn’t Sammy on the side of the law, whereas Jack had fallen outside of it?
The Coast Guard and the Prohibition agents—or Prohis as they were called—had an impossible task, trying to catch illegal booze manufacturers and runners. Nearly everyone in the county was making liquor for himself. Just a few enterprising lads, like Jack Beckwith, were moving it for profit. There were plenty of hiding places along the five hundred miles of St. Mary’s County’s intricate and wooded shoreline.
The Coast Guard vessel turned away to head in the direction from which it had come. Jack remained pensive as Lady Moll drifted further into the cove. He hoped the water wouldn’t prove to be too shallow, else he’d have a hell of a time dislodging her from the silt.
If that had truly been Sammy, he would know most of the waterways in St. Mary’s as well as Jack did. That might not be a good sign.
For now, though, all was well. Jack finally let out a great woosh of relief. Evading the law played on his nerves. The jars of moonshine were well hidden beneath a haul of oysters, and the Coast Guard would likely not have dug far down enough through them to find his valuable cargo, but one never knew what an ambitious Prohi might be capable of doing.
Pearl, however, did not share his discomfort. “Didja see that? Left him with his trousers in a knot, didn’t we?” She used both manicured hands, the nails a perfect match to her lips, to undo her scarf, pull her loose hair back together, and re-tie the silken length.
In complete opposition to the very feminine scarf, nails, and lipstick, Pearl wore a workman’s muslin shirt and pants. They were so large on her frame that she had used a piece of rope to keep the trousers set at her waist.
“No more day runs,” Jack said. “Too much risk.”
Pearl tapped him on the shoulder, her expression playful. “Nonsense, Jacky. Day runs are thrilling. Let’s have a little nip, shall we?”
“Can’t afford to drink the product,” Jack said. “Moses is expecting—”
Pearl rolled her eyes at him. “I would never break into a shipment, silly. How about a little of this?” She pulled up one leg of her trousers. Strapped around her calf was a flask, which she removed, uncapped, and took a long drink from. “Mmmm. Here.” She proffered the flask to him.
Jack didn’t typically drink anything while he was on a run, needing to keep his wits about him in case of danger, like the Coast Guard catching sight of him. But today’s danger was passed…
He took the silver flask, etched with Pearl’s initials, “PJK,” on it. He sniffed the contents.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t be such a flat tire, Jacky. Drink.” Pearl spun her right hand in circles as if to hurry him up.
Embarrassed, Jack tipped the flask up and drank deeply.
Then coughed violently. “What the hell is in that?” he demanded as he thrust the flask back at her. “It tastes like flowery kerosene.”
Pearl was all smiles. “It’s my version of a Sidecar.”
“That’s nothing like a Sidecar.” He spat over the side of the boat. God, it was awful.
“I said it was my version. I mixed some of Moses’ moonshine with some of Smitty’s whiskey, then flavored it up with Triple Sec and lemon juice.”
The woman’s taste buds must be damaged, and her stomach wrapped in iron grates.
“You’d make a lousy bartender,” he said. “That drink should be made with Cognac, not a moonshine and whiskey blend.”
“Me? A bartender? No, Jacky, I’m meant to sit on the other side, meeting all the handsome fellas who can buy me drinks.” She flashed him a toothy grin again. “Although, you’re too sweet on Mollie Maddox to have a care for me, aren’t you?”
A flush crept up Jack’s neck. He had no idea why. He’d long been comfortable with her. After all, he and Pearl had grown up near one another. They’d walked to grammar school together, got into trouble together stealing candy from Mr. Hammett’s five-n-dime store, and eventually both graduated eight years ago, in 1916—she from prestigious St. Mary’s Female Seminary and he from the small schoolhouse at River Springs, down in the Seventh District.
Jack and Pearl had drifted apart, then he heard she had joined the war effort as a nurse, spending time in France.
It was hard to imagine the carefree woman next to him desiring something so perilous as wartime nursing.
Or perhaps it made perfect sense.
Along the bank, an osprey landed in an oak tree, rustling the newly-budded branches under its weight. It was spring, so perhaps it was a male seeking a good place to start a nest for his mate. The bird turned its head and stared down suspiciously at Lady Moll. A moment later, he took wing and flew over them in a brown and white blur.
Too bad there wasn’t a way to have birds move liquor at night. They’d be impossible to catch.
Jack dragged himself back to Pearl’s teasing. “Mollie is a dandy girl. But my life is too complicated for…entanglements. You know, Annie and all.”
Pearl looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, my parents always thought we’d get married one day, but I think that would be like marrying my brother, don’t you agree?” She wrinkled her nose.
It was frequently impossible to know if she was serious or teasing.
“So off you go to Mollie.” She tapped his shoulder again. “I think she can more appreciate someone as predictable and reliable as you, Jacky.”
“What does that mean?” he asked. Most women would be happy with a man upon whom they could depend.
Pearl took a final swig from her flask and screwed the cap back on. “For instance, after you threw the smokescreen, why didn’t you just tear on out of there and continue to Point Lookout? That Coast Guard captain would have never caught you. But here we are, cowering in a cove.”
Jack frowned. “I’m not cowering, I’m making judicious moves. Needlessly getting caught would be foolish.”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Of course you think that.”
The war had changed Pearl in a way that Jack couldn’t fathom. As a child, she was daring. Now she seemed reckless.
“Pearl,” Jack said. “You are a dangerous woman.”
Her tinkling laugh carried through the cove. “Don’t I know it,” she said raising her flask up as if in a toast. “Danger makes life meaningful, doncha think?”