Hannah Mary McKinnon. Never Coming Home. Ebook download from TPL. USA: Mira Books/Harper Collins, 2022.
Here's a variation of marrying for money, or marry an heiress and ensure that she dies. It's no mystery to us from the get-go that Lucas Forester has done away with his wealthy wife Michelle after a few years of wedded misery (except for the sex, he admits) during which he had to pretend he was the most loving, doting, caring husband ever. All that anyone else knows is that she's missing. Lucas grew up in squalor with a drunk, grieving father traumatized by the untimely death of his truly beloved wife and infant daughter. Dad and son lived hand-to-mouth for a long time; now dad needs expensive medical trials that Lucas is determined to provide. It took time for Lucas to assume the convincing guise of an educated, mannered bachelor in order to captivate a rich young woman.
In a carefully plotted scenario using the dark web, protecting himself ultra-secretly, Lucas hires a pseudonymous assassin to kidnap and kill (mercifully) Michelle. But someone knows! ... according to two photos sent anonymously to him. It's paranoia time—Lucas suspects his fool-proof plans are being foiled by Travis, his flaky addict of a brother-in-law, or the missing persons detective Anjali Dubal, although neither seems plausible. Or could it be that Woods, the hired killer, is trying to extort him? Lucas has no idea of his real identity. Then crime boss Bobby Boyle steps out of Lucas's sordid past to make threats and complicate things further. Our charming, duplicitous protagonist is close to panic, fearing he will lose his chance to inherit tons of money.
Cleverly constructed so that we're almost rooting for the scuzzball in a deadly game of wits—is his enemy worse than he is? Lucas must hastily improvise at times, but let's just say the tables are turned in a strange direction. One element seemed too pat to me, but it's a psychological thriller.
Bits
▪ "You've always been the perfect son-in-law," she said. (24)
▪ No, I didn't hate her, but I certainly didn't like her very much. (29)
▪ Choosing to be in the U.K. while Woods did his job had been the best decision. (73)
▪ Uncomfortable. Mostly unexpected. Hard to believe, but for a second there, I missed her. (129)
▪ Once we'd buried my mother-in-law, and I was in charge of Travis's cash, I'd make sure he got as little as possible, give him the bare minimum to get by. (151)
▪ He raised an eyebrow, but I refused to respond, my mind sprinting ahead, trying to find a way to clamber onto this runaway train and steer it into a different direction. (154)
▪ He'd never given me a phone number and had always called me. The guy was a phantom. (200)
▪ "Then I'll tell you what you'll do next." He paused, smoothed his shirt down and smiled, his face full of malice. "And how much it'll hurt if you don't." (212)
▪ "If this despicable creature Bobby Boyle took Michelle because of money your father owed, you do understand it's not your fault?" (245)
▪ "Then how do you know he overdosed?" (299)
Jessa Maxwell. The Golden Spoon. NY: Atria Books/Simon & Schuster, 2023.
Oh good. A televised episode of Betsy Martin's entertaining show, Bake Week. Six contestants engage in demonstrating their talents over five days, with one being eliminated at the end of each day. Bake Week is lauded for its friendly, collegial spirit as Betsy wants it, unlike similar shows that harangue and insult participants. The filming venue is always Betsy's sprawling family home, Grafton Hall, Vermont, which needs a facelift and the money to fund it. Starting a new season, she's unhappy that the producers have foisted a co-host on her, Archie Morris, whose extrovert personality could possibly lower the bar she set or offend the contestants. In alternating chapters we hear from all of them.
I say "oh good" because clearly some delicious villainy will rear its ugly head. Surely some of the six will do anything to win. A few words about the lucky six invited this week:
Stella, journalist, learned to bake only recently, has nervous panic attacks.
Hannah, works in a diner, pie specialist, confident, boyfriend Ben back home.
Gerald, black man, neurotic, mom has bakery, scientific approach to ingredients.
Pradnumya, 30ish, self-made millionaire, bored.
Lottie, retired nurse, oldest competitor, likes heritage baking.
Peter, gay, does house restorations, partner Frederick.
They make bread; they make cakes; they bake their hearts out, but odd little kitchen sabotage incidents occur. No spoilers, but of course only one would be left by Friday evening, after a swirling mixture of envy, love crush, skulduggery, fury, and a couple of explosive moments. Highly entertaining and sure to prompt drooling while reading! At first, below, I'll note which character is thinking or speaking, but guessing the rest could be more fun.
▪ Gerald: A cold dread descends on me. Things never go well when they don't go according to plan. (13)
▪ Hannah: Being on Bake Week is everything to me. It is my chance—maybe my only chance—to do something important with my life. (15)
▪ Peter: What is baking, I remind myself, other than a way to show others you care about them. (23)
▪ Lottie: Every New Year's DayI renewed my commitment to my singular goal, which was to be a contestant on Bake Week. (55)
▪ Stella: "Step by step" had become my mantra over the past year. Betsy was my guide, helping me not become overwhelmed. (62)
▪ Pradnumya: Baking made me seem domestic and accessible, things that are impressive to women. (51)
▪ Betsy: Her advancing age is a sore spot for her, and Archie's arrival has only made it more sensitive. (94)
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
▪ Is it possible that someone could have opened the refrigerator door without me noticing? Intentionally? (52)
▪ "Did you use salt in this in place of sugar?" Betsy finally chokes out. (70)
▪ His cheeks are rough. They scrape my skin, but I don't tell him to stop, even though I know my face will be raw tomorrow. (132)
▪ Someone tampered with my orange essence. (148)
▪ I am the fraud here, not because I'm no good but because I don't care. (159)
▪ There are so many people in this world in desperate need of a mother. (193)
▪ I need to see the man's face. I must intercept them on their way to the parking lot. (202)
▪ I reach for the door, but I am losing consciousness. I press down on the handle, and the door falls open as the last bit of light in my irises snuffs out like a candle. (207)
▪ All she can do is stare up at him. His eyes bulge out at her. His jaw gapes open, a dark hole hanging in a silent scream. (217)
▪ This place, this experience—it is making me feel far more than I want to. I did not sign up for this. (223)
▪ It was stupid of me to ever believe I had a special connection with Betsy. ... I am just as confused, just as messed up as I was before. (227)
▪ There is a chill at my back as I follow the others up. I do not turn around. I'm certain if I do, he'll be standing there, soaking wet, blood dripping from his head, his mouth parted in a permanent scream. (239)
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