EXCERPT: Prologue, 1770):
“I agree with your decision to defend these men, cousin, and I’m relieved because I know you will not portray Boston as a lawless city. But I trust you know how unpopular this could make you with your neighbors.” Samuel Adams eased his muscular body from the wing chair and stood over his shorter second cousin, his pale blue eyes earnest. “Your law business may fall off as a result, your family suffer.”
“All that is true, Samuel. And yet my conscience moves me to do this.” John Adams looked out the window at snow flying past. “If our colonial justice system is to mean anything, then all men who are accused of crimes—even British soldiers who fire on colonists and kill five of them—must be allowed to put on their best defense.” He self-consciously straightened ruffles at his wrists. “And I’m persuaded that I have the skills to provide that, Samuel. Perhaps I alone among the legal minds in the colonies.”
“Undoubtedly, John.” Samuel smiled. His cousin had many abilities but always wanted credit for his achievements. “These defendants will be fortunate to have you pleading their case. However, your brave act could entail costs for those nearest you: penury, shunning, perhaps outright violence.”
“Abigail and I are aware of the possibilities.” John rose from his chair and began to pace, his stubby body rigid with determination.
“Then you are indeed fortunate in your marital partner, John.”
“I am. My dear Abigail supports my decision.” John swung toward the older man, one hand extended in emphasis. “She understands the situation and is fully behind me.”
“You have a remarkable helpmeet, John, no doubt. Abigail has an understanding of both economics and politics that is rare enough even in a man.”
“True. But you have an excellent wife as well, Samuel. Few women would accept a husband’s focusing all his time and effort on a cause.” John stood near the fireplace’s blaze, warming his backside.
“To the detriment of his own business affairs, you mean. Yes, many wives would have urged me to give up my political activities years ago to eke out a better living. But not my Elizabeth.”
“Your use of the shooting incident to wring concessions from Acting Governor Hutchinson was brilliant, Samuel. He had to finally remove British troops from Boston as you had long demanded.”
“One must use events that come to hand….”
* * *
Chapter One
Millie stepped inside the historic church sanctuary, and the majestic interior took her breath away. Rows of double Corinthian columns supported a vaulted ceiling and gallery around three sides. At the front, shutters covered most of a large stained-glass window that was fully revealed only on Easter. Backlit from the sun, colors spilled along the shutter’s edges, highlighting the walls around it.
Below the window, a low railing bordered a chancel where sat a cloth-covered table, two tall tapers flanking a floral display, and four chairs. To the left and in front of the chancel, stairs led up to a suspended wineglass-style pulpit with a lid, one of the oldest pulpits in the country still in use. Box pews faced each other across wide slate-floored aisles, their ruby-colored seats a pleasant contrast to the whites and creams of other surfaces.
King’s Chapel.
* * *
My impossible cousin Sam, Millie,” Gail said, shaking her head. “My friend Millie Kirchner, Sam.”
He entered the box, shut the door, and extended a hand to Millie.
“Sam Jacobs. Samuel Adams Jacobs III, if we’re being formal.” He looked snootily down his nose at Millie, and then smiled to show he was kidding.
“Sharmilla Kristalynn Johnson Kirchner, if we’re being formal,” Millie replied mischievously. She grimaced. “My mom was a fan of romance novels, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“You win.” He took a seat beside Millie. “Your handle’s a bigger mouthful than mine.”
“Sam and I call each other cousins, though we aren’t closely related,” Gail explained. “The John and Samuel Adams of Revolutionary days were second cousins, of course, but quite a few generations come between them and the two of us. Speaking of names, lots of people in my family got ‘Adams’ as our middle names—my dad, me, Sam’s dad, multiple cousins.”. . .
* * *
“. . . Meet my friend Millie Kirchner, Mr. Benedict. Millie, Mr. Benedict is an attorney and free-lance historic-preservation consultant who works with Uncle Samuel in the preservationist group.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Benedict,” Millie said. “I’m in favor of saving historic old buildings, too.”…
“Another far-removed cousin of mine, Marvin Adams Bailey, is at cross-purposes with Sam’s dad and Xavier right now, Millie,” Gail went on. “Marvin’s trying to build a big shopping center in the Dorchester neighborhood, one of the oldest areas of the city. The preservation society’s fighting him on it.”…
Xavier frowned. “Things are up in the air now with Bailey’s current project, since Gary Rothchild’s sudden death recently. Gary was on a Citizens Advisory Committee working with Boston Planning & Development, Millie. He wielded lots of influence on that committee….”
“Gary had been fine just before he ate lunch. But not long after, he got weak and dizzy, and then stopped breathing. Bystanders did CPR and called 911, but he died anyway.”
“Heart attack,” Sam observed.
“Probably,” Xavier said. “Though a doctor friend of mine says other medical conditions, and some medications, can mimic symptoms of a heart attack, can even cause death.”
“You don’t really think someone deliberately killed Gary, do you?” Sam asked. “Sounds like a bridge too far, even for Marvin Bailey.
“Although he is desperate to get that shopping center built.” Sam looked thoughtful. “Now you mention it, murder might not be such a stretch for Marvin, after all.”