About the book
Marrowglass After Closing
The cracked blue teacup was waiting on the coffin as if the dead woman had set it down herself and nipped out to scold the caterers. Nobody admitted seeing who put it there. Nobody admitted anything at Marrowglass House unless admission came with a tax advantage, a photographer, or a solicitor present. Mairéad Callan noticed it first because she had spent forty-two years noticing the thing everyone else tried to look past.