Women

“Let me tell you about the very rich,” wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald. “They are different from you and me.” And Kathy Hays’s Saltwater does a spectacular job of illustrating not just how they are different, but why. Back in 1992, Sarah Lingate—a Lingate by marriage, not blood—took a tumble down the cliffs behind the family’s villa in Capri during their annual vacation. She left behind Helen, her three-year-old daughter; Richard, her madly controlling husband; and other relatives and hangers-on. Was Sarah pushed or did she jump? Pushed is what most of the island thought, but with their vast resources, the old-money Lingates were able to insure that her death was ruled an accident. Thirty years later the Lingates, like so many swallows, are making their annual pilgrimage, as though to prove to the world that they are beyond public opinion. But as one disturbing incident after another occurs—who sent them the necklace Sarah wore to her death?—cracks and fissures begin to show. Written from three points-of-view: that of Helen, who desperately wants to escape from the family; Sarah, speaking right before her death; and Lorna, a personnel assistant who has disappeared, this novel creates a world and then takes it apart, in the most shocking of ways. For readers who enjoy contemplative crime dramas.

Succession meets Canyon Ranch in this terrifying family reunion. The deeply complex and über-rich Agarwals family (parents, three adult kids, a daughter-in-law), with homes scattered about the map, have gathered together on an island off Scotland. The estate is owned by Myra, the oldest daughter. She’s putting the finishing touches on the conversion of the mansion into a luxe resort and wellness center, and losing buckets of money in the process. But for now it’s just the Agarwals’ playground. And there’s plenty to celebrate, including the parents’ fortieth anniversary (Shalini, the mother, is very needy) and the announcement by patriarch Raj of his long-awaited succession plan (he’s pretty arrogant). Narrated by both Myra and Zoe, the middle-class daughter-in-law who is a fake influencer, everyone’s dirty laundry gets exposed as they wait to see who gets the biggest cut of the pie. With the addition of some angry Scots—this is their land!—and the arrival of former family members, you have a recipe for murder that is certain to shock most readers. Here’s a clue: if the Agarwals motto is “family first,” where does that leave everyone else?

Talk about domestic suspense. Julia has moved back to Dublin from San Diego with her kids, who hate their new environment, and her ex-husband, Gabe, who trades time at home with her. Weekends she’s in the house with the children and he’s in a nearby apartment; weekdays the opposite. It’s all very pally, but there’s one big problem: their family seems to be a victim of a social media prank that involves people hiding in attics and jumping out to terrify the residents. Repeated Tik Tok videos, not made by the family, show views of their home as though made by someone inside. And wasn’t there that case, her kids insist, where someone lived in an attic and came out at night to wander the house? Her son is especially terrified—the depth of his fear is clear when his mom tells him not to be afraid to be alone, and he says his fear is that he isn’t alone—prompting Julia to investigate. Weird neighbors and the family’s recent and more distant past offer multiple possibilities for who’s terrorizing them, and readers will enjoy Mara’s taut plotting and believable family dynamics (especially the eye-rolliness of the teen daughter). Julia and her children’s fear comes through so palpably that you’ll be ready to help them move again while silently cursing the useless authorities and blithe Gabe. A gripping read.