{"product_id":"the-queen-of-hearts-isbn-9780399585890","title":"The Queen of Hearts","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eA powerful debut novel, praised by \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eBustle\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eHypable\u003c\/i\u003e, that pulses with humor and empathy as it explores the heart's capacity for forgiveness....\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eZadie Anson and Emma Colley have been best friends since their early twenties, when they first began navigating serious romantic relationships amid the intensity of medical school. Now they're happily married wives and mothers with successful careers--Zadie as a pediatric cardiologist and Emma as a trauma surgeon. Their lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, are chaotic but fulfilling, until the return of a former colleague unearths a secret one of them has been harboring for years. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs chief resident, Nick Xenokostas was the center of Zadie's life--both professionally and personally--throughout a tragic chain of events during her third year of medical school that she has long since put behind her. Nick's unexpected reappearance at a time of new professional crisis shocks both women into a deeper look at the difficult choices they made at the beginning of their careers. As it becomes evident that Emma must have known more than she revealed about circumstances that nearly derailed both their lives, Zadie starts to question everything she thought she knew about her closest friend.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eOne of \u003ci\u003eReal Simple\u003c\/i\u003e's “Best Books of 2018”\u003cbr\u003eNamed a Most Anticipated Book of 2018 by \u003ci\u003eSouthern Living\u003c\/i\u003e, Elite Daily, and Writer's Digest \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Martin leverages her own background as a doctor to great effect throughout...[she] is equally insightful about many aspects of long-term female friendships, especially the blind spots that they often contain by necessity.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A gripping and emotional novel perfect for fans of Meredith and Christina's iconic friendship, \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e is the perfect book for fall.”—Bustle\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Martin’s extraordinary sensitivity and empathy shines through during moments of crisis, which draw out the subtle, complex shades of her characters…the beautifully rendered characters and compelling, rhythmic storyline make \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e a thrilling read, and a fascinating look into the medical world. It’s an impressive debut, full of warmth and excitement.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Harvard Crimson\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fans of \u003ci\u003eGrey’s Anatomy\u003c\/i\u003e are sure to enjoy this new release, a novel about friendship, success, and secrets set amid the day-to-day drama of a hospital in Charlotte, North Carolina.”—\u003ci\u003eSouthern Living\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Kimmery Martin’s excellent debut novel serves up an irresistible mix of romance, ER drama, friendship and betrayal. Martin, a physician herself, writes in a clear and lively way....In her hands, dramatic hospital scenes and routine kitchen conversations are equally compelling.”—\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A secret from two doctors' pasts may put what they cherish most under the knife: their friendship. A book about female friendships that unapologetically wears its heart on its sleeve.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Martin’s debut novel, about pediatric cardiologist Zadie Anson and trauma surgeon Emma Colley, is a medical drama executed with just the right balance of intensity, plot twists, tragedy, and humor...A remarkably absorbing read.”\u003ci\u003e—Booklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Whip-smart and full of heart, Martin expertly weaves the threads of friendship, love and betrayal into a story that crackles with humor and compassion. A brilliant debut.”—Lisa Duffy, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Salt House\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e, debut author Kimmery Martin brings humor and insight into this exploration of friendships and secrets set in the fascinating world of practicing doctors. She effortlessly weaves the past and the present to bring you all sides of this nuanced story. Part mystery and part exploration of the human heart, Martin has a cure for what ails both her characters and their relatable problems. Sure to be a hit with fans of JoJo Moyes and Liane Moriarty.”—Catherine McKenzie, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eHidden \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThe Good Liar\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“In \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e, Kimmery Martin deftly weaves a tale of friendship and betrayal, family and lost love, the choices that define us and the secrets that keep us. Brimming with wit, intelligence, humor, and warmth, this dazzling debut teaches us about the heart’s surprising resilience. Kimmery Martin is a new voice to watch.”—Sarah Domet, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Guineveres\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Full of wit, subtext, and (of course) heart. Martin's writing is smart, compassionate, and just plain entertaining. I can't wait to see what she comes up with next!\"—Jessica Strawser, author of \u003ci\u003eAlmost Missed You\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Martin’s voice is sharp and authentic in this captivating debut about two old friends and the scorching secret that nearly destroys them. Your heart will be thumping until the final page.”—Emily Liebert, author of \u003ci\u003eSome Women\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Intense, vivid and sometimes surprisingly funny,\u003ci\u003e The Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e gives readers a behind-the-scenes look at the world of female physicians. Martin moves effortlessly between the women's highly relatable suburban lives and the literally cutting-edge drama of their work.”—Kim Wright, author of \u003ci\u003eLast Ride to Graceland\u003c\/i\u003e, 2017 winner of the Willie Morris Award for Southern Fiction\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Tragedy and secrets refuse to stay buried in this fast-paced and clever exploration of the storied connection between Emma and Zadie. As wives, mothers, and physicians, they are just as susceptible to life and its multicolored traumas as any of the souls they care for.”—Nadia Hashimi, international bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Pearl that Broke Its Shell\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“If you love \u003ci\u003eBig Little Lies\u003c\/i\u003e and medical dramas such as Grey’s Anatomy and ER, there is no better book for you than \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e.”—Hypable\u003cb\u003eKimmery Martin\u003c\/b\u003e is an emergency medicine doctor, born and raised in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. A lifelong literary nerd, she reviews books, interviews authors, and works extensively with the library foundation in Charlotte, North Carolina, where she resides with her husband and three young children. \u003ci\u003eThe Queen of Hearts\u003c\/i\u003e is her first novel.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Meetings Are the        Enemy of Progress\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Zadie, Present Day, North Carolina\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Almost a hundred years before I was born, a man named Samuel      Langhorne Clemens-better known to most of us as Mark Twain-said      this about the human heart: You can't reason with your heart; it      has its own laws, and thumps about things which the intellect      scorns. This is entirely true, as far as I'm concerned, and I      should know: I've devoted my professional life to the study of      hearts, to their intricate, indefatigable machinery, and to their      endless propensity to go awry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We thump for all sorts of reasons. Some are beautiful and      life-affirming. Some are misguided, recognizable to everyone but      you as catastrophically stupid. We thump for the unsuitable stoner      in our college biochem class, with his easy, wicked grin. We thump      when somebody we don't like gets their comeuppance. We thump at      cruelty and danger.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I've never spent much time revisiting the past, having thought I'd      reached a settled spot in life where most of my wildly      inappropriate thumping was behind me. Even if I wanted to look      backward, I'd slogged through the last two decades unglued by      sleep deprivation-first by my medical training and then by an      onslaught of babies-so my recall of some of those years has been      washed as smooth as sand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But there are some things I don't want to remember. Emma and I      have an unspoken agreement regarding our third year of medical      school: we don't bring it up. Maybe even more than me, Emma has      good reason to avoid those topics, and if there's one      characteristic you'd assign to my closest friend within a      nanosecond of meeting her, it's self-discipline.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So I was completely dismantled when Emma texted me she wanted to      talk about it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I cast a sneaky glance at the phone screen in my lap, reading the      text three times to be sure. It didnÕt change. The screen dimmed      and I fumbled to keep it lit, somehow managing to dislodge the      phone from my lap so it hit the wooden floor with a clunk. As I      retrieved it and shoved it into my bag, ten pairs of judgmental      eyeballs swiveled my way. Who would have the effrontery to read      texts during an important meeting? At the head of the table, the      speaker, Caroline Cooper (alma mater: Georgia, plus Vanderbilt Law      School), gave me a frosty look.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Zadie? You with us?\" Clearly rhetorical. My friend Betsy Packard      (Duke University) threw me a surreptitious wink as Caroline forged      ahead without a pause for me to answer. \"Okay . . . we need to      evaluate the metrics so we're optimally positioned for next year.      Let's leverage our assets.\" Caroline flipped her blond pageboy.      She was wiry and lean, with the grizzled look of too much tennis.      \"Yes, Jennifer, did you have a question?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jennifer Grosset (B-school, UVA) cleared her throat. \"I understand      we need to incentivize, but it seems to me the mission-critical      thing here is to bring the teachers online. I'm wondering if      there's a good strategic alliance there.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Holy smoke. This was what happened when a bunch of highly educated      bankers and lawyers took time off to raise their kids. You      couldn't get five seconds into a preschool meeting without the      need for a bizspeak translator. Same thing in my cardiology      practice: the hospital execs and the docs who ran the office were      all so deeply steeped in corporate culture that hours could go by      without anyone clearly stating anything. Everything was      \"actionable\" and \"recontextualized\" and \"pursuant\" to everything      else.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In my opinion, meetings are the enemy of progress.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Everyone around the table was nodding about the alliance issue      with the teachers. This was politically tricky, though, and a      babble of heated voices sprang up. Caroline pitched her voice      above the din: \"Simmer down, y'all. Let's do a little      crowdsourcing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e More nodding.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I shivered. Everyone looked cold, since they were all dressed      skimpily and the AC was jacked up to arctic level in deference to      the scorching temperature outdoors. Fashion-wise, the women fell      into one of two camps. The first group looked like they'd just      come from exercising, although they all had neat hair and no one      smelled bad. It was considered socially acceptable to wear spandex      workout gear around town to morning school meetings and whatnot,      as long as you were under a size six, maximum, and had a nice ass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The second group was beautifully pulled together. They sported      gold-plated sandals, chiffon halters, Herms bracelets, skintight      jeggings, and metallic aviators pushed onto perfectly coiffed      blond manes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As the discussion veered toward teacher gifts, I felt my phone      vibrating in my bag.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Unable to resist, I slid it out. Emma again. Can you stop by      before work tmw? Need to talk about Nick.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My heart started to hammer, an anxious, involuntary little      tachycardia. We all have a Nick in our pasts: a seemingly ordinary      person who, through some mysterious subatomic combination of      chemistry and personality, was capable of reaching inside you and      exposing some luminescent core you didn't know you possessed. This      kind of person could make you greater than you'd have been alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But he could also make you terrible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e If someone had told me when I was twenty-four that I'd be witness      to many violent deaths that year, I would not have been surprised.      I expected it, even desired it, with an anticipation that mirrored      my general outlook on life: happy, heedless, and thirsty to learn.      But if my omniscient adviser had gone on to tell me that I'd be      the cause of one of the deaths, I'd have been dumbfounded. That      kind of trauma was inconceivable to me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was thirty-six now. Although I was still happy and still      possessed a wide-eyed, inquisitive nature, I was much more aware      of how every moment had an infinitely complex number of options,      and in turn, an infinitely complex number of outcomes. We think      it's the big actions that shape us-the choice to pursue medical      school over business school, turning down a date with one guy in      favor of another, the regrettable decision to have an affair. But      in reality, all of those things come about from the unconscious      and barely considered actions that shape a life: blowing off      studying one night to watch TV. Laughing at a lame joke to make      someone feel better. Allowing more eye contact than necessary with      a man you knew to be no good. It's the innumerable smaller choices      that snowball into larger vectors, or, put another way: it's the      choices we make when we ignore our scornful intellects and follow      our thumping hearts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before I could text Emma back, there was a tap at the conference      room door, which opened to reveal the gray head of Margery      Blitstein, director of the Weekday Preschool. ÒPardon me for the      interruption, ladies,Ó she said. ÒCould I steal you for a minute,      Zadie?Ó\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Of course,\" I said pleasantly, feeling my stomach clench up. This      could not be good. Please, please, don't let Delaney have bitten      anyone, please.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm afraid Delaney has bitten someone,\" Margery said as soon as      the door had shut behind us. \"Again. I'm terribly sorry, Zadie,      but you know that our handbook specifies that if the biting is an      ongoing problem unresolved by redirection and positive      reinforcement, we have to ask the parents of the biter to remove      the child. I sincerely hope you understand that we at the      preschool feel tremendous love for Delaney, and for all of our      children, but I think we've reached the point where we need to try      something a little more actionable.\" (Et tu, Margery?)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I . . . of course,\" I said weakly. \"I am so sorry. I can't      imagine why . . . Ah, who did she bite?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I regret to say that it was Sumner Cooper. Again.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Oh hell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Is there anything going on at home?\" asked Margery kindly. \"Any      changes or potentially upsetting events for Delaney?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No! I mean, no, nothing. Everything's fine.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Margery Blitstein stopped walking and patted me on the shoulder.      \"Zadie,\" she said, \"I've known you since Rowan, your oldest, was a      baby-that's what, eight or nine years ago? Parenting four children      isn't easy, but I know what a wonderful mother you are. And I know      by reputation what a wonderful doctor you are. This is no      reflection on you. Sometimes children bite. This will pass.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Thank you, Margery,\" I mumbled. \"Ah, when you say the child needs      to be removed, what kind of time frame are we talking about?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well, I am certainly not suggesting that Delaney has to stay out      forever. Why don't you take a few days, a week maybe, and let's      think outside the box here about ways to handle this?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So Delaney was being suspended. From preschool. Wonderful. I      mentally reviewed everything I had coming up in the next few days      that was incompatible with having a three-year-old biter in tow,      which of course was pretty much everything. I worked at my      pediatric cardiology practice every Tuesday, Wednesday, and      Thursday, and the rest of my time seemed to be spent juggling the      schedules of my four children. In theory, that didn't sound      difficult, but in reality, each child added an exponential level      of complexity, so that we'd had to plaster an entire wall of the      playroom at home with a whiteboard covered in Venn diagrams and      annotations about the logistics of everyone's soccer, ballet,      field hockey, and guitar lessons. I made a mental note to find      help in the mornings: my college-age nanny, Nina, only worked      early mornings and late afternoons.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We reached Margery's office. I could hear Delaney giggling inside,      probably playing with Margery's assistant, Clare. Sure enough, as      we entered, I could see that Delaney was utterly unfazed by her      disgrace. \"Hi, beloved dear!\" she called out in delight as she      caught sight of me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I knelt down. \"Delaney,\" I hissed quietly as Margery murmured      something to Clare in the background, \"why did you bite Sumner?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Brightly: \"I don't know, Mom.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Delaney. This is not okay.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well . . . maybe I bited her because she is so bad.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I said, \"Sumner is not bad. She is a nice little friend.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"She is bad. She breaked up my puzzle even though I telled her not      to.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Okay, we are going to have plenty of time to talk about this at      home.\" Plenty of time. \"Let's tell Mrs. Beaufort and Mrs.      Blitstein thank you for taking care of you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Okay! Fank you, honey dears!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After apologizing again, we headed for the parking lot. I checked      my cell phone: shoot. Missed call from Emma. As I was      contemplating returning it, the phone rang: Drew, my husband.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hello, beautiful wife,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was suspicious. \"Are you working late tonight?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A slight pause. \"Um, yes,\" he said. \"I'm flying to New York for      the day. Can you hold down the fort?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I always hold down the fort,\" I pointed out. \"I'm a fort-holding      specialist.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He sighed. \"I know,\" he said. \"I'm sorry.\" Another silence, then:      \"I told the boys I'd hit balls with them after their lesson      today.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The quietness of his tone strangled any irritation I might have      felt. Drew was a frequent victim of his managing director's whims      when it came to last-minute travel for their private equity      business. He'd never complain to me about how much he minded      canceling a promise to our little sons, but he didn't have to: I      knew how to read all his inflections.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You know what?\" I said buoyantly. \"I will distract them with my      own fearsome tennis skills. Don't worry for a second about it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His voice recovered. \"That would be spectacular,\" he said,      refraining from pointing out that I was more inept on the tennis      court than a bilateral arm amputee. \"Let's plan on me taking them      out this weekend, okay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I told him I loved him and hung up. I glanced at my watch. I had      an hour and a half, which was the perfect amount of time to knock      out the shopping I had to do. I'd bring the vampire with me, and      we would have a serious discussion about things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For once Delaney did not fight as she was buckled into her car      seat. She was uncharacteristically quiet as I lit into her,      babbling about consequences and limits and privileges. I realized      that much of this was over Delaney's head, but maybe venting would      calm me down enough to come up with a plan. I raged all the way to      the Target parking lot, finally winding down as I unbuckled      Delaney.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mommy?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes. What?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In a tiny voice: \"Are we still in love?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I looked at Delaney. Her fat cheeks were drooping with guilt and      fear, and her great big eyes blinked, dislodging two perfect      diamonds of tears. Her little shoulders shook as she fought not to      cry. Finally unable to hold it back, she buried her face in her      small hands and tried to stifle her sobs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My irritation melted. A penitent toddler could conquer the hardest      heart. I scooped Delaney up, letting my littlest child bury her      wet face in my chest. Chubby arms and legs wound themselves around      my torso.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm sorry, darling honey. I'm sorry,\" cried Delaney. \"I didn't      meant to do it!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's okay, baby,\" I said, stroking her heaving little back. \"We      are still in love.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Seven oÕclock in the morning was a ridiculous hour to have a      conversation with anyone, at least in my opinion, but it qualified      as late morning for Emma. She arrived at work by six most days,      but she had negotiated a late start on Tuesdays. She also received      two days off every other week, which for her meant an      unprecedented amount of leisure time. But then again, Emma has      always been a workaholic, so I wasnÕt even sure she appreciated      it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was an early riser too, but not by choice. A few years back, one      of my female partners and I had managed to achieve a utopian ideal      never before seen in my old-school, male-dominated cardiology      practice: job sharing. During the three days a week I worked, I      sometimes started early: at least once a week, I needed to be in      the OR myself to perform echocardiograms on the little congenital      heart patients. And of course, on my two days \"off,\" I often awoke      even earlier to find myself wedged to the edge of the bed by a      highly energetic twenty-five-pound intruder who'd crept in during      the night. Even though I was amped to find out what Emma had      discovered about Nick, I couldn't suppress a yawn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After my big kids-eight-year-old Rowan and six-year-old twins Eli      and Finn-left for early care at school, I made my way to the car,      Delaney hopping in sparky little circles around my feeble trudge.      \"Mom, is this a skipping?\"","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303126913253,"sku":"NP9780399585890","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399585890.jpg?v=1767741125","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-queen-of-hearts-isbn-9780399585890","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}