{"product_id":"winter-sisters-isbn-9780399564260","title":"Winter Sisters","description":"\u003cb\u003e2019 FINALIST FOR THE WASHINGTON STATE BOOK AWARD\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Stunning. . . Oliveira writes with feeling.”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“[An] engrossing story. . . that feels utterly timely.”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e, “The Best New Books”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNew York, 1879: An epic blizzard descends on Albany, devastating the city. When the snow finally settles, two newly orphaned girls are missing. Determined not to give up hope, Dr. Mary Sutter, a former Civil War surgeon, searches for the two sisters. When what happened to them is finally revealed, Dr. Sutter must fight the most powerful of Albany's citizens, risking personal and public danger as she seeks to protect the fragile, putting at risk loves and lives in her quest to right unimaginable wrongs. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs contemporary as it is historic, \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e is part gripping thriller, part family saga, and ultimately a story of trauma and resilience that explores the tremendous good and unspeakable evil of which humans are capable.“Engrossing . . . a meaty historical novel that sensitively addresses issues—among them gender equality, the rights of minors, corruption and child abuse—that plague us even today.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Seattle Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We recommend \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e. . . . Even though it’s set in a time over 100 years ago . . . you’ll see a lot of references to the things women are \u003ci\u003estill \u003c\/i\u003efighting for (and against) today.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—HelloGiggles\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oliveira crafts a complex, multifaceted historical novel that is both a captivating story and a commentary on the laws that have, for far too long, oppressed and endangered women. . . . Entertaining at times, deeply political at others; a perfect example of a historical novel that also illuminates present-day issues.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oliveira’s beautiful, expertly researched novel showcases the lives of women overcoming societal constraints and living fearlessly.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oliveira is as gently direct with her traumatized characters as Mary is with her patients. The story shines in depicting Albany’s diverse geography and society, and the era’s antifemale bias feels downright infuriating . . . a multifaceted and affecting portrait of courage.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oliveira blends mystery, historical detail, and courtroom drama in a compelling story that will please…historical fiction fans.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The real charm of \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e is the story of family, love, and perseverance, and the commentary on how women were and still are treated in society. . . . Populated with strong female characters and an oft-lyrical prose, this is a definite must read.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Historical Novels Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Robin Oliveira has a remarkable gift for bringing the past to life. In \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e, she matches a bold, vivid story with a rare sensitivity to the natural world in all its serene beauty and deadly force. This is a compelling novel that will keep you up all night.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Lauren Belfer, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eCity of Light\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eA Fierce Radiance\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eAnd After the Fire\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Equal parts exquisitely detailed historical drama and riveting literary thriller, \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters \u003c\/i\u003edeftly explores the brutal costs of child exploitation, while elegantly demonstrating the healing power of true compassion and profound sisterly devotion.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Kimberly McCreight, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eReconstructing Amelia\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eWhere They Found Her\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“After two young sisters vanish in a snowstorm, the whys and hows of their disappearance quickly become a compelling and increasingly complex mystery. Robin Oliveira renders nineteenth-century Albany, New York, with exactitude and vividness, but her novel’s ultimate concerns are timeless—suffering and healing, the loyalty to family versus loyalty to justice. I’ve long been a fan of Robin Oliveira’s work, and \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e only increases my admiration.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Ron Rash, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eSerena\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Raw beauty and devastation, both; this is true of the forces of nature and the foibles of men that propel the plot of \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e toward its stunning climax. But as always in Robin Oliveira’s novels, it’s the women who provide the heartbeat and the moral compass in this gripping tale of suspense set in Albany, New York during the Gilded Age. This is a book as thrilling as it is poetic.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Melanie Benjamin, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Swans of Fifth Avenue\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e is a dazzling and evocative mystery that brings history to life on the page. Robin Oliveira has created an exquisitely layered story that explores the intricacies of an American town haunted by the violence of the Civil War and the shifting tensions between women’s claim for equality and the societal forces that resist change. Suspenseful and beautifully written, shot through with wisdom and grace, this is a book you will stay up late for\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003ea book you will read and love and share.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Dawn Tripp, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eGeorgia\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A haunting tale of terror and enduring love, \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters \u003c\/i\u003eis tense and vivid. It kept me immersed to the last page.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Nancy Horan, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eLoving Frank \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e Under the Wide and Starry Sky\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters \u003c\/i\u003ecommands the reader’s attention. Both a missing-person thriller and a courtroom drama that appeals powerfully to the heart, this novel shows a society on the brink of change at the end of the nineteenth century. While blizzard and floods ravage Albany, New York, on the domestic front, equally strong forces are changing the lives of the women who live there, who through their talent and bravery are creating new paths and raising the next generation of girls to be even more resilient than themselves.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Sena Jeter Naslund, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eAhab’s Wife\u003c\/i\u003e;\u003ci\u003e Four Spirits\u003c\/i\u003e; and \u003ci\u003eAbundance, A Novel of Marie Antoinette\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A true tour de force, \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e is the best period thriller I’ve read since \u003ci\u003eThe Alienist\u003c\/i\u003e. Robin Oliveira is a novelist working at the height of her powers. Beautifully written, compelling, sensual and cinematic, I couldn’t put it down.” \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Thomas Christopher Greene, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Headmaster\u003c\/i\u003e’\u003ci\u003es Wife\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eIf I Forget You\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e is a brilliant literary triptych: part tender family saga, part feminist narrative, part wild mystery. Only the author who introduced us to the unforgettable and tenacious Mary Sutter could spin a tale so captivating and empowering, of winter devastation followed, we can only hope, by the renewing bloom of spring. \u003ci\u003eWinter Sisters\u003c\/i\u003e had me cheering, cursing, gasping, and sneaking off to read whenever time permitted. An absolutely enthralling read.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Julie Barton, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eDog Medicine\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eRobin Oliveira\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMy Name Is Mary Sutter \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eI Always Loved You\u003c\/i\u003e. She holds a BA in Russian and studied at the Pushkin Language Institute in Moscow. She received an MFA in writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts and is also a registered nurse, specializing in critical care. She lives in Seattle, Washington.\u003cb\u003eChapter One\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Two days before Emma and Claire O'Donnell disappeared, a light      snow fell from the dawn sky above Albany, New York, almost as a      warning mist. Later, people would recall that the flakes were      mistakenly perceived as a lark, a last dusting in what had been an      unusually cold winter. The year 1879 was already proving to be a      surprising one: on March 3, the first woman lawyer had argued a      case before the Supreme Court, and despite the wretched cold,      there had been an abnormally scant snowfall. Just a foot since      November, which had then melted away on three strangely warm days      in early February, though the thick ice on the Hudson River had      not yet broken.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Emma and Claire O'Donnell were ten and seven years old,      respectively. In concession to the snow, they wore boots, but      because the day was already warming they donned only a light coat      over their spring dresses. Their parents were similarly attired:      boots in lieu of lighter, leather shoes, a woolen coat for Bonnie,      a thin cloth work jacket for David. The O'Donnells lived in three      rooms on the first floor of a row house on Elm Street. Every      morning they left the house together, Emma and Claire for the Van      Zandt Grammar School, Bonnie to her millinery shop on State      Street, and David to the Lumber District.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Their farewell on the morning of March tenth at the school doors      was unremarkable as farewells go: a brief wave, an affectionate      reminder for Emma to take care of Claire, and noisy reluctance      from the sisters, for it was annoying to have to go inside on such      a splendid day. There was little reason, any of them believed, to      mark the occasion: they would see one another at home for their      midday meal, as they always did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e David and Bonnie walked on together through the light, powdery      snow the five blocks to State Street, Albany's wide boulevard,      which was graced at its summit by the new capitol building, still      unfinished after twelve years of construction. It was modeled      after the Louvre Palace in Paris, but its outer walls had only      just been completed, giving it a faintly apologetic mien, as its      facade was still missing a promised grand stairway and a plethora      of decorative friezes and gargoyles. Its interior third and fourth      floors were still barren hollows of scaffolding and echo. The      exasperated legislature, tired of waiting, had preemptively moved      into the first two, anticipating years of noise and headache      ahead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The businesses of importance-with the exception of lumber and      railroading-proceeded apace below the capitol, on State Street. A      languorous hill, it eased from the capitol heights down to the      Hudson River, spanned here by two railroad bridges, one north and      one south. The waterway had first been named the North River by      the Dutch, because it allowed passage northward from the Manhattan      harbor, but it had long since been renamed after its discoverer,      though the early moniker persisted in Manhattan City, whose      centric gaze rarely extended to the wider world. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Albany's principal economic engine was that it offered a decent      port on the only navigable river a steamboat day's voyage from the      bustling trade center. A stubborn Flemish perseverance had long      characterized the city's public personality, which had sustained      the founding Dutch through the threat of native unrest, the      encroaching French, and finally the conquering English, who      captured New Netherlands-essentially all of northeast America-in      1664 and renamed the inauspiciously named yet tenacious city of      Beverwijck, Albany. That same perseverance had also sustained the      city through year after year of seasonal floods, for though the      river was an economic boon, it was also Albany's watery Achilles'      heel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But today, Monday, March 10, it was snowing, and the river was      still frozen, and merchants, bankers, printers, engravers,      tobacconists, reporters, druggists, lawyers, and one milliner were      all converging on State Street to empty mousetraps, sweep refuse      from thresholds, and deposit money into their empty tills. The      mercantile neighbors waxed convivial with one another about the      snow shower. Smiles, all around, and a shaking of heads. Albany.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e David O'Donnell accompanied Bonnie to her shop at 59 State Street,      as he did every morning. His pride at her success was exceeded      only by his pride in his daughters, Emma and Claire, though if      pressed, he might confess a partiality toward Emma, whose stubborn      spiritedness he encouraged perhaps more than he ought. But the      pressing thing now was the snow drifting lightly from the skies,      and the question of whether or not it had been advisable to have      erected the new awning over the mullioned shop window. Under too      much accumulation of the white stuff, it would founder. But as      they assessed the sky for clues, a patch of blue opened above the      river, settling the issue. David kissed Bonnie's cheek, and taking      his leave, descended the slippery sidewalk toward Broadway on his      way to the Lumber District, where his work as a stevedore had      shaped his strong body into an anvil.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You'll not forget dinner tonight at the Sutters'?\" Bonnie called      after him. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I mean the Stipps'!\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter twelve years, she still      couldn't get it straight. Her beloved adopted family had grown. No      one in the city of Albany knew whether to call them the Sutters or      the Stipps, either. The O'Donnells were generally believed to be      their blood relations, though that was not true, even as much as      Bonnie wished it were. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And if you stop for a pint on the way      home,\" she threatened, \"don't bother to come calling. I'll bolt      the door against you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Turning, David raised his arm in salute, a teasing grin skittering      across his weathered face. \"Dinner?\" he said. \"What dinner?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"David O'Donnell, it's your fault, you know, that Emma is such a      scrapper.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Bonnie stood under her green-striped awning and      admired the man as he sauntered away. David was her second      husband. Her first husband, Jake Miles, had disappeared in the War      of the Rebellion, and none too glad had she been to see him gone.      For a brief time, she'd been in love with Christian Sutter,      Amelia's only son, but he had died early in the war. And then      David had spotted her on the street one day, and made a pest of      himself until she fell in love with him. He had given her Emma and      Claire, whom she cherished. She crossed herself to honor the two      children she'd had with Jake. They had died as infants, a sadness      from her unlucky past. And she made a last cross to honor      Elizabeth Fall: Amelia Sutter's grandchild, whom she loved just as      much as she loved her own daughters, and whom she missed, for the      brilliant girl had gone with her grandmother far away to Paris to      study violin at the conservatory there. Bonnie was worried about      her. Lately, Elizabeth's letters had confided great sadness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Six o'clock! Remember!\" Bonnie called after her husband.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After turning and waving, David cut down Montgomery and dashed      across the tangle of railroad tracks at Spencer, then followed      Water Street into the Lumber District, crossing the narrow lock      bridge that separated the terminus of the Erie Canal from the port      basin. A sudden, sharp gust of wind chilled the two thousand      laborers pouring into the fifty lumberyards on the hundred-acre      island, carved between the Erie Canal and the Hudson. David worked      for Gerritt Van der Veer, the preeminent lumber baron in the city.      Gerritt S. Van der Veer, it could be said, ruled Albany.      Advertisements for his white pine shone down from nearly every      brick building lining the grand commercial boulevards of Western      Avenue and State Street. the best white pine in the world is at      van der veer \u0026amp; son lumber! While Van der Veer was a fair      employer, his temper could rage when things went wrong. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis year,      an unanticipated excess inventory of milled white pine had      wintered over, and Van der Veer wanted to ship it the minute the      frozen river opened to navigation, which he believed would be      soon. His overseer, James Harley, a more reasonable man,      nonetheless shouted over the rising gusts to the assembled hundred      laborers of Van der Veer Lumber that this morning's first task was      to clear the accumulating snow from the stacks. So David and the      other longshoremen climbed the towers of plywood and joists and      four-by-fours and got to work.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In their classroom at the Van Zandt Grammar School, Emma and      Claire were seated two rows apart. They had been gazing out the      windows at the snow, which was beginning to turn heavier, but      Emma, the oldest, sighed and exchanged a despairing glance with      Claire before turning her attention back to their teacher, a      recent graduate of the State Normal School, who was teaching some      complicated math to the older students. Claire studied Emma from      the corner of her eye. It pleased Claire that people said they      looked alike, with their cascades of copper hair and bright blue      eyes, but that was where their resemblance ended, Claire believed.      Emma was so much more clever that she was. As Emma leaned over her      paper to solve a raft of division problems, Claire pretended to do      the same, but instead she was secretly thinking about the party      that night at the Stipps'.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Five long blocks away, Bonnie was contemplating the party, too. It      was their annual celebration of the opening of her shop. This year      was the sixth, and it was she who ought to be hosting since Amelia      Sutter was away with Elizabeth in Paris, but Mary Stipp had      insisted on continuing the annual tradition of hosting the party      at their home, even in the absence of her mother and niece. It was      Amelia who had provided the initial funds. Bonnie had repaid her      debt long ago, but the party had become a celebration not only of      Amelia's generosity, but of the families' long friendship, close      ties, and remade lives. And then there was the fact that Mary      Sutter Stipp had delivered both Emma and Claire, and one of her      babies from Jake, who had died. Their tight bonds could never be      broken.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Outside, the light dimmed as the fluffy flakes turned beady and      began to pour from the sky. Casting a wary eye toward the window,      Bonnie resolved to leave her shop earlier than she usually did to      pick up the cake at Mariano's Bakery for tonight, but she wasn't      really worried. It was March, after all, nearly spring. The snow      had to let up soon. And she had work to do. She finished dusting      her showcase and arranging her worktable, permitting herself a      small smile of self-congratulation as she sat down to put the last      touches on the hat she had been decorating for her best customer,      Viola Van der Veer, the wife of Gerritt Van der Veer, David's      employer and the richest man in Albany. Not that long ago-was it      really twenty years?-Bonnie had been an ignorant farm girl, and      now she was making hats for a woman whose patronage had ensured      her success, because when Viola Van der Veer wanted something, the      rest of Albany society did, too, not so much out of affection for      her, but as a mark of financial equality. That collective desire      had provided for, among other things, the excess funds to purchase      the cherished awning. Despite the snow, Bonnie expected that Mrs.      Van der Veer might stop in today, as she often did, to chat with      her as she worked. The society woman's loneliness had come as a      revelation, especially given Mrs. Van der Veer's standing in the      community, which recently Bonnie had learned Mrs. Van der Veer      considered more a chore than a position she prized. Mostly, Bonnie      was honored to be the recipient of Mrs. Van der Veer's sometimes      mournful confidences, and more than once she had offered the      tearful woman her shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The new wide-brimmed garden hat, a style that would set to      advantage Mrs. Van der Veer's tiny figure, was already laden with      white egret plumage and exuberant silk peonies. Bonnie marveled at      how her customers seemed oblivious of her tricks. All she had to      do was juxtapose a pair of complementary colors, offer the      surprise of a new pattern, or more importantly, disclose which of      a client's friends-or enemies-had purchased a far superior quality      of velvet, and the sale was done. In Albany society, Bonnie had      learned, superiority mattered. Hard won, reaped with unsheathed      claws and an enigmatic smile in ballrooms and dining rooms across      the city, who was who was the business of those women, and if she,      a former farm girl, provided ammunition to the struggle, then all      the better. She paused and took stock. The addition of a      hummingbird would finish the hat well. It was an embellishment      that Viola Van der Veer loved, and Bonnie often finished her hats      with that signature detail. Now she tested first one, then another      of the featherlight birds, setting them in a tiny nest of straw,      choosing finally a ruby-throated one, its wings aflight. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bonnie was still holding it up to admire when a violent burst of      wind pushed open the door and the iridescent bird flew out of her      fingers and up toward the ceiling. So much snow was suddenly      spilling from the skies that she could hardly see a thing. She      fumbled for matches to light the gas jet, but a curtain of      darkness had fallen. The snowfall was no longer a mere sprinkling,      a last reflexive fit of winter. It was a blizzard. Bonnie      instantly thought of Claire and Emma. Would they shut the schools      for a storm this foul, or keep the children instead? It didn't      matter. She would go get them. Unthinking, she jammed Viola Van      der Veer's unfinished hat on her head and fled outside, pulling on      her thin coat. Instantly, the churning wind spun her around. She      regained her balance and bent low, taking first one step, then      another, into the maelstrom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the Lumber District, James Harley, the overseer, hollered above      the roar of wind for everyone to get out. Hearing Harley's cries,      David leaped to the ground from the top of the stack he'd been      clearing and headed toward the Lock Bridge with hundreds of his      fellow laborers, each one doubting his ability to find his way      home in the sudden whiteout. Despite growing panic, the men worked      together, linking arms and edging across the narrow Lock Bridge,      made hazardous by the accumulating snow. The snaillike pace of      escape was excruciating. When it was finally his turn, David bowed      his head and shuffled across, praying not to be blown into the      canal. But once he successfully negotiated the bridge, it soon      became impossible to know what was ground and what was sky.      Gravity lied. Senses failed. By blessed dumb luck, David navigated      the twelve long blocks back to State Street, staying to the lee of      the buildings and marking his path by memory, his collar turned up      against the frigid cold. He blundered on, finally reaching State      Street, where he traveled perhaps a dozen steps up the sidewalk      before he lost his sense of direction and veered into the street.      The blinded driver of a heavily laden dray never saw him, nor did      he grasp that the cry he heard and the sudden jolt of his sliding      wheels meant that he had crushed a man.","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304348405989,"sku":"NP9780399564260","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399564260.jpg?v=1767744395","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/winter-sisters-isbn-9780399564260","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}