The Lost Diary of Venice

1

Time had begun to loop in on itself. Rose Newlin realized this one day, on her bike ride to work, when she looked up and noted with some surprise that the red maple trees had budded. Her routine had become so fixed, so circular, that only the seasons seemed to change. First, always, came a bike ride. The wind pinked her cheeks and tugged a few curls loose from under her helmet as she wound her way through the university campus to her bookshop. Then, a quick walk to the café on the corner, with its familiar scent of roasting coffee beans. The barista there wore button-­up shirts and had small tattoos on each of his fingers: an arrow, a compass, the figure-­eight of eternity. Slender tips of more ink peeked out from under his cuffs.

Good morning, Rose.

Good morning, Joel. Latte for me, thanks. She always gave her order, even though they both knew what it d be.

Afterward, strolling back to the shop, she watched fragments of herself slip past in store windows: auburn hair twisted up in a knot, rangy frame she could never seem to add any muscle to. Faded jeans and her favorite knit sweater, a lightweight parka thrown on top. She reminded herself to work on her posture. Her eyes flashed back at her from the glare of glass, green flecked with gold. In certain lights their color seemed to change, tilting blue or nearly gray. Her father had called them labradorite eyes, after the gemstone.

Rose focused on the cracks in the sidewalk. She didn t need to think about him today.

She reached the shop then and unlocked the door, flipped the sign to open. Though she d owned the place for two years, each time she stepped inside she still felt a swell of contentment, like a farmer taking in his crops at dusk. This parcel of life, this here, is mine and mine alone. She d decorated the space carefully, filling each nook with well-­padded reading chairs and antique lamps. A few months after she d opened, a stray tomcat had arrived on the doorstep to complete the

Margaux DeRoux was born in Juneau, Alaska. Before turning to fiction she was a waitress, a teacher, and a marketer. She now lives in California with her husband and daughter.

Margaux DeRoux s intoxicating debut has all the elements I crave in a story: forbidden love, a found diary holding mysterious secrets from the past, and oh, the lure of Venice in the time of masquerade balls and courtesans. DeRoux s beautifully told story, with richly woven detail and attention to historical authenticity has all the elements of a book club fave! Sarah Jio, New York Times bestselling author of All the Flowers in Paris

DeRoux s thought-provoking debut paints a vivid atmospheric picture of sixteenth-century Venice, seamlessly weaving together two compelling threads of alluring, forbidden love. Jennifer Ryan, bestselling author of The Chilbury Ladies Choir

[A] scintillating debut . . . DeRoux brilliantly evokes the 16th-century Venetian art world. [The Lost Diary of Venice] will satisfy bibliophiles and Renaissance art lovers alike. Publishers Weekly