Chapter Twenty-SevenGRAND CENTRAL STATION, NEW YORK, NEW YORK,
January 19, 1930
“Daisy, pack your bags,” Clara had said the previous week. “Harry wants me to come for a visit. Ben thinks I’m goin’ for publicity. I swore Teet to secrecy.”
Harry’s stock always dropped when Clara wasn’t around, so he’d do anything to show her off on his arm again. Of course I had to go with her. Nothing like pulling up a couch in some hotel suite while they went at it like minks in the next room. They were like two magnets with opposing poles. You couldn’t pull them off each other.
The day we were due to arrive, I wore my favorite navy-blue suit—the one with the red piping—and my navy tricorn hat. Clara and I peered out the window as we felt the final few kachunk kachunk kachunks of the train pulling into
