The Map of True Places (38 page)

Liberties taken. The weather. The houses. With the exception of the House of the Seven Gables, not one of the homes in this book is real. They are for the most part imaginary places set where real houses now stand. Don't go looking for them, they do not exist. The same is true for the homes on Baker's Island, which is a private island on which many generations of families have summered quietly. The only way we can visit Baker's is by having a friend (or family member) who owns one of the cottages. I hope to get a second invitation one day. I have taken liberties of time with the factory in Lynn where Maureen worked when she met Finch. The factory was a real one, Hoague Sprague, and was owned in partnership by my great grandfather, Morton Hoague. It closed in the late 1950s, so Maureen could not have worked there.

I read many books in my research for
The Map of True Places.
For a suggested reading list as well as book club questions, please visit mapoftrueplaces.com.

First to Gary, for so many things, and for not letting go of the dream even when I thought it impossible. For research and for the phrases: “How can I help?” and “Whatever makes you happy.”

To Rebecca Oliver, for making it all possible and for her time in Austin and endless reading and rereading. To Laurie Chittenden, who is not only a great editor but who understands and respects the artistic process. To the whole team at William Morrow who have helped every step of the way, and in particular to: Liate Stehlik, Ben Bruton, Tavia Kowalchuk, Andrea Molitor, and Mac Mackie.

To Hilary Emerson Lay at Spirit of '76 who read two early drafts and to Emily Bradford who read and read. To Sarah Anne Ditkoff for all of her help.

To the city of Salem, my chosen home. To Kate Fox and Stacia Cooper at Destination Salem. To all my friends at the House of the Seven Gables and in particular to Anita Blackaby and Amy Waywell, thank you for letting me write in your beautiful gardens. To the National Parks Service and the
Friendship
: Colleen Bruce, Jeremy Bumagin, John Newman, Martin J. Fucio, and Ryan McMahon. To Jean Marie Procious and Elaine von Bruns at the Salem Athenaeum. To Teri Kalgren and the staff at Artemesia Botanicals. To Laurie Cabot. To William Hanger at Winter Island. To Beth Simpson and everyone
at Cornerstone Books. To HAWC. And finally to Dusty the cat and his family.

To the great town of Marblehead, the town where I and seven generations of my family grew up. To the Marblehead harbormaster, Charlie Dalferro. To Fraffie Welch. To Cathy Kobialka at Waterside Cemetery. To the Marblehead Garden Center and the Spirit of '76 Bookstore.

To my writing group, the Warren Street Writers: Jacqueline Franklin and Ginni Spencer, who cheered me on through the first book and remained patient and dedicated through the second.

To Alexandra Seros for her friendship and for great notes and for making that first magic phone call.

To Fravenny Pol for her help with all things D.R.

To my early readers: Jeannine Zwoboda, who read and commented twice. Mark W. Barry and Mark J. Barry, who turned reading into a father/son competition. To Mandee Barry, Whitney Barry, and Sherry Zwoboda, who read on the raft at the summer house when they could have been doing other things. To Cayla Thompson. To my wonderful friend Susan Marchand, who read section by section. To Ken Harris and Debra Glabeau for expertise on pirates and Melville and for making us laugh far too much.

To the Greater Boston medical and psychiatric communities for patiently answering every question (there were so many). Thanks to Dr. Peter Bevins. And thanks to Lucy Zahray, “The Poison Lady,” for her lecture at Crime Bake and for her very interesting set of tapes.

To Hawthorne and Melville. And, of course, to Yeats.

And a bow and a prayer to my friends who didn't live long enough to realize the happily-ever-after: Tommy, Chuckie, Robbie, Shirley, and Jay.