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Sisters Saffron and Elinor inherit a cottage on the Italian coast from their father, along with its resident ghost and a secret manuscript. Their rivalry explodes through a struggle for control of the inheritance.
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
Saffron glared at her black-suited sister across their father’s grave in Rome’s Protestant Cemetery. It was nearly empty for their father’s funeral, only Elinor, this small bunch of stylish Italians also wearing black, and herself in lavender. Was it worth coming all the way from Berkeley, with her domineering sister, for this ritual? Ellie had written a solemn ceremony, as if Dad would have enjoyed the pomp. Okay, maybe he was enjoying it, but Saffron knew he was hating being dead.
She could tell by the purple glimmers that swarmed over his casket that Dad was disturbed by his situation, but he’d soon grow calm.
Her superior sister, with her perfect pageboy and dark suit, looked embarrassed tossing red rose petals onto the casket. Good, she should. The cheesy petal-tossing idea had been Ellie’s. She was always planning and calculating. She could never do anything spontaneously. It was as if all the energy in Ellie’s body flowed up and gathered in her brain, where it pulsed in constant, bossy motion.
But then Saffron remembered she didn’t want to be critical, especially not with her sister, who had invited her to come. She tried to put on a hopeful expression, to please Ellie—and then she remembered Ellie wouldn’t like to see her smiling at the funeral.
The judgmental vibes were probably flowing from Ellie, who was always embarrassed by something. Often it was by Saffron and her spontaneity, which was, yes, a little messy. And what Elinor dismissively called imaginative. To Ellie, the mix-up with the plane reservations had proved yet again why Saffron wasn’t competent. After Saffron booked the wrong dates, Elinor took over with a flourish. Her sister loved to take charge. Ever since childhood, Ellie had honed her management skills by running Saffron’s life.
Yes, it was true, Saffron needed help. Of course, she wasn’t perfect. Okay, she was about to turn thirty and hadn’t yet begun adulting. But at this moment, she was proud of herself for coming along and trying to mend fences with Ellie—as proud as you could feel with drizzle plastering your hair onto your face, your boot heels sinking into the spongey ground, and your sister frowning at your smile.
About the Author:
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