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In 1920s New York, the price of a woman’s independence can be exorbitant—even fatal.
In 1924 Manhattan, women’s suffrage is old news. For sophisticated booklover Julia Kydd, life’s too short for politics. With her cropped hair and penchant for independent living, Julia wants only to launch her own new private press. But as a woman, Julia must fight for what’s hers—including the inheritance her estranged half brother, Philip, has challenged, putting her aspirations in jeopardy.
When her friend’s sister, Naomi Rankin, dies suddenly of an apparent suicide, Julia is shocked at the wealthy family’s indifference toward the ardent suffragist’s death. Naomi chose poverty and hardship over a submissive marriage and a husband’s control of her money. Now, her death suggests the struggle was more than she could bear.
Julia, however, is skeptical. Doubtful of her suspicions, Philip proposes a glib wager: if Julia can prove Naomi was in fact murdered, he’ll drop his claims to her wealth. Julia soon discovers Naomi’s life was as turbulent and enigmatic as her death. And as she gets closer to the truth, Julia sees there’s much more at stake than her inheritance…
316 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 1, 2019
A lot of subtle information was embedded in the seemingly descriptive passages. Early in the book we are introduced to Glennis’s sister, Vivian.
But downed gin and a swift getaway were not to be. Glennis’s sister lifted the phonograph’s needle. Vivian Winterjay stood across the room in a spotlight of wary silence, mustering one of those small, composed smiles meant to carry one through any occasion—the bare-knuckle refuge of impeccable breeding. Her party was clearly not going well, not well at all, yet her fair features glowed serenely in the lamplight. It seemed fate had lavished the family beauty on Vivian, leaving only scraps for the younger Glennis, and discreet swell of expectant maternity only deepened her radiance. A special treat was waiting, she announced, and they were all to proceed through to the dining room.
“the woman’s fingers twitched in Julia’s left hand. In a rattle of bracelets, she jerked it toward her bosom. Julia twisted to ease the angle of her elbow, pulled painfully toward a gullible nest of grief and crepe de chine. The woman began to cry.”Julia was obsessed with fonts and specialty printing. Writing about the special fonts was a distraction especially because we were not provided a visual.