by Joy Callaway
“Come here,” he said, under his breath. “I need to ask you something.”
“What?” I smiled as he pulled me onto his lap. His fingers drifted over my cheeks, down my face to my lips. I closed my eyes, feeling the rough calluses he’d earned from years of gripping charcoal pencils float off my face and settle at the back of my neck. I felt his lips on my mouth. He tasted sweet from the lemonade. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest. The way he loved me, the way I loved him, still took me by surprise. Through all the years, it hadn’t ever faded. Charlie pulled away.
“I know that you asked me not to read The Web,” he said softly. I froze. I’d asked him—begged him, actually, since the day it came out not to read it because I knew he’d recognize us. All this time, I thought he’d listened to me.
“If you—” I leaned away from him, voice rising as irritation and nerves balled in my stomach. He clapped a hand over my mouth to silence me and forced me back to him with the other.
“I have, but only the other day. A copy was lying on your table and the temptation was too great,” he said. “I read it in a night. It’s a triumphant book, Gin. It tore me up.” His eyes met mine, a spark of fire in them, and a smile touched his lips. I knew that look well. I’d seen it countless times over the years. It meant he was proud of my work. At once, my mind flitted to Mr. Smith’s face. Although Cherie had eventually taken to painting again in spite of his blatant disapproval, I’d never been able to forget the insensitive blankness in his eyes as he’d appraised Cherie’s misery in her painting. Charlie cleared his throat. “I presume I’m Carlisle?” I started to shake my head to lie to him, but couldn’t.
“It was a long time ago, Charlie.”
“I know. But, at the end,” he said. His voice sounded strange. “Ginny, you know I love you. I tell you that all the time.” He looked away from me, dug in his pocket, and withdrew a piece of paper—the permit for our show this evening. He flattened the folded document on the table in front of me and withdrew a ballpoint pen from the drawer below it. Charlie and Virginia, he signed at the signature line. His hand shook.
“And I love you,” I said back, hoping to settle whatever anxiety had overcome him. Aldridge, Charlie signed after my name, and set the pen down. I stared at his fingers, waiting for him to correct his mistake, to add Loftin as he hadn’t all those years ago on our Centennial Time Capsule project. I felt his eyes and lifted my gaze to his.
“Years ago, I begged you to marry me. It wasn’t the right time. I was married, you were heartbroken and then after . . . after Rachel’s death, I wanted to ask you again and should have. But we were young and scared. We’d watched promises shatter love too many times.” He stopped and swallowed hard. I wondered, fleetingly, if my heart was still beating. I hadn’t expected this. “At the end of your book, Carlisle . . . he’s old, but he asks her to marry him and she finally . . . finally agrees.” Charlie lifted his hand to my cheek. “I told you I’d always love you and I always have. Now please, will you be my wife?” I nodded and at once, the green field and the open doors of my cottage faded and I found myself standing in the Aldridges’ packed drawing room, hands balled in my skirt, heart pounding, as Charlie turned away from Rachel Kent and knelt in front of me.
The End
Author’s Note
Dig around in your family’s history long enough and you’ll start to find stories behind the names and dates on your pedigree chart. Every family has them—tales of triumph and victory, love and tragedy, of tumultuous lives and simple days well lived.
For as long as I can recall, my family has made a habit of telling our ancestors’ stories—a way to keep them alive in a world that has long since forgotten them. Because of this, I can’t remember when I first heard of the real Loftins—Alevia VanPelt and William Lynch and their children, Annie (Bess), Virginia, Alice (Mae), Franklin, and Alevia—but I’ve always been entranced by this family of extraordinary artists.
My great-great-grandmother was Alice—Hunter College graduate, educator, and the only one to marry and have children. My grandmother, Alevia VanPelt Jenkins Ballard, often told me how lovely and kind and smart she was, but she also told me of the others—of Annie the milliner, Virginia the writer, Franklin the salesman, and Alevia the concert pianist. They have each captured hours upon hours of my thoughts, but when I sat down to write a story based on this family, it was Virginia’s voice I heard, a voice I found rather fitting considering her profession.
Not only was Virginia an artist but also in her soul she was an adventurer. She traveled the world, seemingly unperturbed by the difficulty in doing so at the turn of the twentieth century, wrote several books—mostly nonfiction—and articles for the Bronx Review, painted, taught, organized a women’s suffrage group, and helped establish an artists’ colony in Lime Rock, Connecticut. Though she never married, I’d like to imagine that she’d had the option. Her diaries suggest her interest in a man who proposed to another woman quite without warning. The character of Charlie is fictional, but his profession is roughly based on lithographic illustrator Berhardt Wall. Wall illustrated Virginia’s book Washington Irving’s Footprints, but their relationship was likely much closer, as evident by his inscriptions in several of his own books to various members of the family. In later years, they both lived in the artists’ colony in Lime Rock.
To this day, no one knows what became of Franklin. The prevailing rumor is that he was disowned for disappointing his parents, possibly for doing something corrupt, possibly for being gay. In my narrative, the latter option was so difficult to reconcile on its own, that I decided to create a fictional plot using the murky twentieth-century drug industry. After the blood-soaked clothes were delivered to their home, it was said that Virginia went searching for him, but he was never found.
Though only imagined, the Hoppers, Lydia and Tom, and the Society are a conglomeration of the colorful friends, artists, and groups mentioned in Virginia’s diaries and Virginia and Alevia’s letters to Alice. Alevia never sought acceptance into the Symphony or Philharmonic, though she did make her living both playing for hire and testing pianos at several of the local factories.
The place where the old Mott Haven home once stood on the corner of Morris Avenue and 142nd Street is now a parking lot, but the story of this remarkable family lives on each time it is told, made immortal by our remembrance.
Acknowledgments
Writing this book was a true gift to myself, a time I spent thinking of ancestors I’d never met but had often dreamed of meeting. It is a captivation like no other—to hear about the adventures of those that have come before, those whose legacies are entwined with ours. For the gift of the Lynch family story, I will thank Gran, Alevia, first and foremost. My love of family history was ignited by your influence.
I want to thank God for the miraculous blessing of perfect timing and the gift of imagination.
To my family—to my mom, Lynn, who has read and deemed genius every word I have ever penned, even the countless horse stories I wrote as a child, and who fostered my love of books. To my dad, Fred, who has always believed in my dreams and stressed the importance of chasing them. To my brother, Jed, one of my very best friends, whose relationship served as the basis for Ginny and Frank’s close bond. To Gramps, Ed, a man whose surety in my success propelled me forward. To Momma Sandra and Daddy Tom, for their influential love of reading and unwavering support. I love you all so much.
To the best friend that ever lived, Maggie Tardy, who has read all of my work, even the embarrassing early attempts at novels. Thank you for the lifelong friendship, the laughter, the definition of sisterhood.
To the early readers of this book, thank you for your comments and encouragement.
To my Lynch cousin, Dana, thank you for sharing not only our family’s mementos, but your passion for our ancestry.
To my writing buddies—Sarah Henning, Renee Ahdieh, Cheyenne Campbell, Liz Penney, Alison Bliss, Sam Bohrman—thank you for the time, the sharpening, the friendship. I lo
ve and appreciate you more than you know.
To my dream team—to my savvy, whip-smart agent, Meredith Kaffel Simonoff, thank you for your ceaseless support and belief in both myself and this book. And to my editor, the brilliant Maya Ziv, whose keen eye and love for this story has molded this novel into something I am truly proud to share.
To the exceptional minds at Harper—Amy Baker, Dori Carlson, Emily Griffin, Jane Herman, Jamie Kerner, Joanne O’Neill, Kathryn Ratcliffe-Lee, Leigh Raynor, Mary Sasso, Oriana Siska, Audrey Sussman, Jillian Verrillo, and Sherry Wasserman—thank you for all of your hard work and time.
Lastly, to my little family—to my children, Alevia and John, you are my happiness and my heart. And to my husband, John, for your enthusiasm for my work and steadfast belief in me. Thank you for being a true partner in all things. I can’t imagine going through life without you. I love you.
P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . . *
About the author
* * *
Meet Joy Callaway
About the book
* * *
The True History of the Loftins
Read on
* * *
Family Relics: Found Material That Contributed to The Fifth Avenue Artists Society
About the author
Meet Joy Callaway
JOY CALLAWAY’S love of storytelling is a direct result of her parents’ insistence that she read books or write stories instead of watching TV. Her interest in family history was fostered by her relatives’ habit of recounting tales of ancestors’ lives. Joy is a full-time mom and writer. She formerly served as a marketing director for a wealth-management company. She holds a BA in journalism and public relations from Marshall University and an MMC in mass communication from the University of South Carolina. She resides in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her husband, John, and her children, Alevia and John.
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About the book
The True History of the Loftins
DIG AROUND in your family’s history long enough and you’ll start to find stories behind the names and dates on your pedigree chart. Every family has them—tales of triumph and victory, love and tragedy, tumultuous lives and simple days well lived.
For as long as I can recall, my family has made a habit of telling stories about our ancestors—a way to keep them alive in a world that has long since forgotten them. Because of this, I can’t remember when I first heard of the real Loftins—Alevia VanPelt and William Lynch and their children, Annie (Bess), Virginia, Alice (Mae), Franklin, and Alevia—but I’ve always been entranced by this family of extraordinary artists.
My great-great-grandmother was Alice—Hunter College graduate, educator, and the only one to marry and have children. My grandmother Alevia VanPelt Jenkins Ballard often told me how lovely and kind and smart she was, but she also told me of the others—of Annie the milliner, Virginia the writer, Franklin the salesman, and Alevia the concert pianist. They have each captured hours upon hours of my thoughts, but when I sat down to write a story based on this family, it was Virginia’s voice I heard, a voice I found rather fitting considering her profession.
Not only was Virginia an artist, but in her soul she was also an adventurer. She traveled the world, seemingly unperturbed by the difficulty in doing so at the turn of the twentieth century, wrote several books—mostly nonfiction—and articles for The Bronx Review, painted, taught, organized a women’s suffrage group, and helped establish an artists’ colony in Lime Rock, Connecticut. Though she never married, I’d like to imagine that she would have. Her diaries suggest her interest in a man who proposed to another woman quite without warning. The character of Charlie is fictional, but his profession is roughly based on lithographic illustrator Berhardt Wall. Wall illustrated Virginia’s book Washington Irving Footprints, but their relationship was likely much closer, as evident by his inscriptions in several of his own books to various members of the family. In later years, they both lived in the artists’ colony in Lime Rock.
To this day, no one knows what became of Franklin. The prevailing rumor is that he was disowned for disappointing his parents, possibly for doing something corrupt, possibly for being gay. In my narrative, the latter option was so difficult to reconcile on its own that I decided to create a fictional plot using the murky twentieth-century drug industry. After the blood-soaked clothes were delivered to their home, it was said that Virginia went searching for him, but he was never found.
Though only imagined, the Hoppers, Lydia and Tom, and the society are a conglomeration of the colorful friends, artists, and groups mentioned in Virginia’s diaries and Virginia and Alevia’s letters to Alice. Alevia never sought acceptance in to the Symphony or Philharmonic, though she did make her living both playing for hire and testing pianos at several of the local factories.
The place where the old Mott Haven home once stood on the corner of Morris Avenue and 142nd Street is now a parking lot, but the story of this remarkable family lives on each time it is told, made immortal by our remembrance.
Read on
Family Relics
Found Material That Contributed to The Fifth Avenue Artists Society
THESE ARE SOME of my most treasured Lynch family mementos—relics that gave life to stories that at times seemed too romantic to be real. When I look at this collection, only fragments of full lives, it is as if they are reaching through time to remind me—We promise. We were here.
Virginia’s passport applications
Several photos of Virginia, Alevia, Alice, and Anne
Virginia Lynch
Alevia VanPelt Lynch (mother)
Alice Lynch Gorton (Mae)
Anne Broome Lynch (Bess)
Portrait of Alevia Rulgate Lynch
Alevia, the pianist
Bernhardt Wall’s sketch of the Lynch home
Photo of the Lynch home
Alevia (mother) and William in front of their home, 1895
Washington Irving Footprints
Written by Virginia Lynch; etched by Bernhardt Wall
Other material that contributed to The Fifth Avenue Artists Society
•Virginia’s diaries—three years
•Virginia’s obituary
•Virginia’s article in The Bronx Review titled “An Old Bronx Home”
•Virginia’s handkerchiefs
•Several mentions of Alevia playing at parties in the New York Times
•Three of Virginia’s paintings
•Old maps of Mott Haven
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More Praise For The Fifth Avenue Artists Society
“With The Fifth Avenue Artists Society, debut author Joy Callaway paints a marvelously detailed portrait of Gilded Age New York, and in Ginny Loftin, inspired in part by the author’s own ancestor, she has created an affecting and appealing heroine. This is a delightful and memorable book.”
—JENNIFER ROBSON, international bestselling author of Moonlight Over Paris
“With the warm glow and heavy drapery of Gilded Age salons as its inviting backdrop, Joy Callaway’s engaging period novel explores the timeless struggles women face in the creative and working world, and the price some are willing to pay to protect all they hold dear.”
—ERIKA ROBUCK, national bestselling author of Hemingway’s Girl
“The Fifth Avenue Artists Society is an engrossing snapshot of 1890s New York City, where women were expected to cast aside their artistic aspirations in favor of marriage, motherhood, and social obligation. Filled with well-drawn characters and lush historical texture, this tale sweeps you into the midst of writers, artists, and musicians, some of whom wrestle darker muses than others. The era may be long gone, but the passions remain timeless.”
—JILL MORROW, author of Newport
“[A] powerful debut. . . . Callaway paints an all-too-real portrait of the power of love to both create and destroy. . . . Readers wil
l never see the twists around every corner. Beautifully written and solidly executed, Callaway’s novel will captivate historical and romance fans alike.”
—Library Journal
Copyright
P.S.™ is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE FIFTH AVENUE ARTISTS SOCIETY. Copyright © 2016 by Joy Callaway. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Callaway, Joy, author.
Title: The Fifth Avenue Artists Society : a novel / Joy Callaway.
Description: First edition. | New York : Harper Paperbacks, 2016.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015042024| ISBN 978-0-06-239161-2 (paperback) | ISBN 978-0-06-239163-6 (ebook)
EPub Edition May 2016 ISBN 9780062391636
Subjects: LCSH: Women authors—Fiction. | Sisters—Fiction. | Artists—Societies and clubs—Fiction. | New York (N.Y)—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Historical. | GSAFD: Love stories. | Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3603.A4455 F54 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015042024