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Saffron has a genius for creative living, but ever since her judgmental older sister interfered in her love life, Saffron and Elinor haven’t spoken. When death brings them together at their father’s funeral in Rome, the battle re-ignites. It continues as they travel up the Italian coast to take possession of their cottage. Both secretly wish to mend fences, but they have opposite views about the best way to live.
Saffron has always sensed the “Invisibles”, people lingering after their demise. When the spirit who lives in the house predicts one sister might die, she takes it seriously, but can’t convince her practical-minded sister.
As they prepare the house for sale, Italy infuses its magic in food, festivals, and local love interests -- until a shocking night changes everything for the sisters and their friends.
A tale of sisterhood and the supernatural, perfect for fans of Mary Ellen Taylor and Barbara O'Neal.
PRAISE FOR THE INVISIBLES
Author Dacus does a superb job bringing the village of Lerici to life, from the smells of the sea to the pungency of the local olive oil, and showing how the Italian way of life changes both women. An enjoyable, romantic read. -- Suanne Schafer, author of HUNTING THE DEVIL
Read an Excerpt
Michael pulled her down the street. They turned right at the bottom of the hill and onto the beach promenade. Walking alongside the water, today full of white curlicues, Saffron looked up at the green hills. In the clear light, they looked fresh-minted.
The pressure of his hand intensified. “The hidden beach is wild and perfect, he said. “Like you."
Dazzled by this compliment, she walked along, more aware of Michael’s hand than of the wide swath of beach, dotted with beach chairs. The benches were nearly empty, the wind driving everyone indoors.
“Just a bit farther,” he said, tugging her along.
Their speed throbbed in Saffron’s pulse. The hidden cove, they both knew, was a pretext and a preamble—a pre-amble. Excitement tightened her throat, making her breath catch as she trotted beside him. He was so tall and his hand never loosened its grip.
She was going to have an adventure in Italy. His hand kept her locked into it, any doubt falling away.
They came to a sign: “Beach Behind Castle.” A few more signs directed them to a marble arch over a tunnel beneath the building. They darted into the darkness holding hands, the path level, though impossible to see under- foot. They came out at a small, brilliantly white beach. The surf seemed higher now, pounding the shore steadily with dark, frilled swells. “Do people swim here? I mean, when it’s not so windy?”
“They do. No one’s here yet, but by afternoon I bet the beach will be full. People who know the secret of this place love it.”
They took off their shoes and walked closer to the surf. Saffron scooped up a shell and put it in her pocket. “A souvenir.” Of more than the beach.
On the way back, Michael stopped at a corner and pointed up a steep cobblestone street. “My little castle’s up there. I bring home all the goddesses I meet. Would you care to visit?”
The rash compliment went to her head like a quickly quaffed glass of champagne. “Sure.” This was it. The real adventure, not the hidden beach.
“Come, my Artemis,” he said.
They climbed a short distance and turned down an even narrower alley. He stopped at a turquoise wooden door with a lintel low enough that he had to duck his head entering.
“The gate to my modest tower.”
Saffron paused long enough to wonder if she was stepping into another mess with someone she hardly knew. But if she stopped now, she’d never find out what it was like to be a goddess.
When they were inside the doorway, he hesitated, but didn’t kiss her. What would his lips feel like? Instead, he led her up narrow stairs that turned on a landing with a small window. She glimpsed the hills, and then they went up the last few steps.
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