At ten after two, Ruth Truman dashed into the shop waving a large manila envelope. Ashlyn was in the travel section, helping a customer select a book for her husband’s birthday, when she heard the bells on the shop door jangle. She signaled with the wave of a hand, but Ruth kept moving, pausing just long enough to slap the envelope on the counter and explain that she was illegally parked and that her husband had vowed to take away her keys if she came home with one more parking ticket.
It was all Ashlyn could do not to step away from her customer and steal a peek at the envelope. As it was, her customer continued to dither for nearly an hour and ended up leaving empty-handed. Ashlyn didn’t care and barely waited until the woman was out the door before making a beeline for the counter.
She held her breath as she unwound the envelope’s string closure and slid out the contents. The sight of the pages made her stomach do a little flip. A few had been neatly paper-clipped. Others were single sheets with bold headlines and grainy black-and-white photos. The print quality wasn’t good—printed microfilm materials seldom were—but with a magnifying glass, she ought to be able to make out most of it.
She laid out the pieces like a hand of solitaire, arranging them in chronological order. When she was finished, she pulled Frank’s enormous magnifying glass from beneath the counter and picked up the first item, a Chicago Tribune article dated January 14, 1920.
Chicago Business Mogul Ronald P. Spencer Believed Dead at Sea
January 15, 1920 （Chicago）—Noted businessman and Chicago native Ronald Spencer and wife, Edith, are believed to have perished in the sinking of the S.S. Afrique on the early morning of January 13th, when the ship carrying some 600 passengers and a crew of 135 was driven off course and struck a reef off the French coast. The ship, owned by French shipping company Compagnie des Chargeurs Réunis, was bound for Senegal when the accident occurred. Generators in the engine room are said to have failed during the storm, leaving the ship unable to maneuver. At 11:58 p.m., the ship was thrown against a reef, fatally damaging the hull. At 3 a.m., all contact with the Afrique was lost and the ship sank soon after. Of the passengers and crew, only 34 survived. Ronald and Edith Spencer are survived by one daughter, Miss Geraldine Spencer, 21.
The rest of the article was about Ronald Spencer’s net worth and business holdings. Ashlyn didn’t care about any of that. She was much more interested in the photo of the young woman at the bottom of the page—GERALDINE “GOLDIE” SPENCER, 21.
She picked up the magnifying glass again, studying Goldie more closely. Platinum-haired and sloe-eyed, with a perfectly painted bow of a mouth, staring back at the camera as if someone had dared her to do it. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her as the woman Belle had described, brazen and flamboyant, with a taste for parties and young men. Hemi’s boss. And lover, too, perhaps.
The second article was also from the Tribune, an opinion piece dated twelve weeks later, lamenting the takeover of Spencer Publishing by a “twenty-one-year-old flapper” who would soon turn her father’s redoubtable print holdings into a string of cheap entertainment rags, covering nightclub openings and the latest fashion crazes. The piece ended with a call for the board to take swift steps.
The third piece was much more colorful.
Tattler Owner Goldie Spencer Nabbed in Jazz Club Raid
June 14, 1928 （New York）—In the early-morning hours of June 13, police carried out a secret raid at the basement speakeasy known as the Nitty Gritty Club. Police were acting on a tip that illegally imported liquor was being served at the West 125th Street jazz club. A sizable stockpile of beer and spirits, discovered behind a false wall, was confiscated and is slated to be destroyed. A small amount of marijuana was also found on the premises. Forty-two patrons were taken into custody, including owner Lively Abbot, noted actor and man about town Reginald Bennett, and newspaper heiress Goldie Spencer. Bennett and Spencer were arraigned in county court and ordered to pay a $50 fine. Abbot, who has had repeated brushes with the law, faces up to a year in jail and fines in excess of $700.
Ashlyn scrutinized the grainy photo of a heavily made-up Goldie being muscled into the back of a police wagon. Her platinum hair was cropped short and parted down the middle, her brow adorned with a beaded headpiece—the quintessential flapper. The photographer had caught her with her mouth open, presumably in the act of hurling some epithet at the policeman who had her by the arm. It was hardly a flattering photo, but once again, Goldie’s defiance was on full display.
The next two articles—Senator Thuneman Exposed in Bribery Scheme and The Enemy in Our Midst: American Nazis Hiding in Plain Sight—had obviously been included as evidence of Goldie’s journalistic bravado. Ashlyn scanned the latter briefly, noting that both Henry Ford and Charles Lindbergh had made it into the piece. The article after that, dated 1971, detailed Goldie’s involvement in a rally in defense of a woman named Shirley Wheeler, the first woman to be charged with manslaughter for illegally terminating a pregnancy.
And finally, a tiny tabloid piece dated November 2, 1974. Who’s the Hunk on Goldie Spencer’s Arm? The photo showed a smiling but noticeably older Goldie at some gala or other. She was wearing a dress trimmed in feathers and a necklace that could have bankrolled a small third-world country. On her arm was an impossibly tall Adonis. A 007 type, with chiseled good looks and a wide white smile, impeccable in black tie. Ashlyn felt a little thrill as she let her magnifying glass hover. Here, at last, was Steven Schwab, considerably younger than Goldie and still quite dashing.
Ashlyn peered more closely at his face, taking in the toothy smile, the sideways cut of his eyes as they sought Goldie’s, as if they’d just enjoyed some private joke. Was this the man Marian Manning had loved so desperately, the man who had deceived her and broken her heart? And if so, where did Goldie fit in? Perhaps she’d loved him first and had seen Marian Manning as the interloper. If all was fair in love and war—and Hemi and Steven Schwab were in fact the same person—Goldie had clearly been the victor.
According to Ruth, he’d been with her till the end. And the next article—Newspaper Heiress Goldie Spencer Dead at 80—seemed to bear that out, mentioning that Goldie’s Park Avenue apartment as well as a sizable portion of her fortune had gone to longtime companion Steven Schwab. In accordance with her will, the remainder of her estate had been divided among various charities championing women’s issues, which fit perfectly with the final item from the packet, a multipage spread that had appeared in The New Yorker the day of Goldie’s memorial service. Goldie Spencer: A Feminist Legacy.
Returning to the gala photo and the dashing Steven Schwab, Ashlyn looked for some detail that might confirm that he’d been the love of Marian Manning’s life. With the parade of men constantly moving in and out of Goldie’s orbit, Hemi could have been anyone. Still, the pieces fit remarkably well. Particularly the part about him being an aspiring novelist. What if Mr. Schwab had done more than just aspire? What if he’d actually written a book—an anonymous book—about a doomed love affair with the daughter of a powerful man?
Hemi . . . is that you?
And even if it was, how could she verify it? He was long past answering questions. As was Goldie. And the deeper she waded into Belle and Hemi’s story, the more questions she had. What had become of Marian Manning’s poetry? When had she broken her engagement to Teddy, and why, if not to marry Hemi? Might there be photos squirreled away somewhere that included both Steven Schwab and Marian Manning, snapped inadvertently during some party or gala? If so, it would be proof. Or near proof.