Inside was a bustle of people and a few barking dogs, all evidently acquainted with and enthusiastic about the prospect of long summer days and nights passed in one another's company. As I approached the desk, the strain of a violin rose above the chatter, weaving a cheerful, countrified ribbon of sound through the general uproar. The mustachioed clerk greeted me with extreme affability; my reservation was in order and my key at the ready. He regretted that I had requested only four nights, or rather he maintained that I would regret it. "Once our guests arrive, they generally don't want to leave. You won't find better company or a more beautiful setting in the state."
"It is a lovely spot," I agreed.
Excerpted from The Ghost of the Mary Celeste by Valerie Martin. Copyright © 2014 by Valerie Martin. Excerpted by permission of Nan A. Talese. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
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