In the office, she took her usual perch on a stool next to the window and looked out on the river. Below, squat tugboats moved slowly because layers of ice had formed in the river. Frozen white chunks bobbed and tumbled in the dark green water of the river. She loved the way each season changed the port’s tempo, sights, and sounds. It seemed she had always known the language of the tugs’ captains, spoken in blasts from their horns as they pushed and pulled enormous ships past each other on the waterway.
The Great War had ended that year. The unrest that enveloped the world over the last six years only increased Bruce’s business, and the Brown family remained comfortably situated in their new home. Long Island suited Margaret far better than Brooklyn. She played in the woods and fields whenever possible, and their home was rural enough for the children to have dozens of pets, including rabbits, squirrels, dogs, and horses. When one of Margaret’s pet rabbits died, she skinned it and proudly displayed the pelt to her family. Her father, who taught her how to hunt, fish, and sail, was no doubt amused by this antic, unlike her mother, who tried to counter the girl’s roughness by enrolling her in ballet and refinement classes.
Margaret cared nothing for the typical society girl parlor niceties. She shared her father’s love of the outdoors and adventure. When her father was home, he and Margaret spent weekends sailing, golfing, and fishing. Bruce was raised in a family that expected as much, if not more, from the daughters as the sons. There were many accomplished men in his family, but their success was attributed to their matriarch, Elizabeth Preston, the brains of the dynasty. It was the boast of each consecutive generation that every male in the line had a sister with greater intellect and stronger character. At a time when high society dictated a path for little girls that favored polite conversations and needlework, Bruce encouraged Margaret’s athleticism and independence.
She stared out of her father’s office window, and tears filled her eyes. Her father would board a ship docked on the other side of Manhattan later that day. Those boats were so large they often needed three or four tugs to escort them safely out to sea, and once there, they kept going, carrying people to far-off lands. Margaret was always eager to hear stories of her father’s exotic travels, but she hated to see him leave. Every time he boarded a boat, she was convinced she would never see him again, so her tears soon turned to sobs. The father held his daughter in his arms and, as he dried her tears, told her she shouldn’t worry about him, he would always return.
*
Margaret grew used to her father being away. She also grew used to solitude. For much of the year, her brother, Gratz, and most of the neighborhood children were away at boarding schools. On walks to and from school, she often stopped to watch the comings and goings of bugs, birds, and butterflies. Roberta had no patience for her sister’s dawdling or cloud watching—another favorite pastime of Margaret’s. Roberta preferred to be inside reading with their mother.
When summer came, Margaret’s domineering personality, quick wit, and endless imagination made her an unquestionable leader of the neighborhood band of children. She led daylong expeditions through the forests or fields and relished being able to outwit her companions. She once convinced them that she alone owned the woods. Anyone who wanted to enter had to pay her an entrance fee, which, not surprisingly, they paid.
In the summers when they went to visit their cousins in Virginia and Kentucky, it was common for the children to sleep on huge screened porches designed to capture cooling night breezes. It was routine for Margaret to be the center of attention on those nights. She stood on her cot, one in a long line crowded onto the porch, and crooned to her cousins. As they fell asleep, she told stories—some from memory, others from imagination. She could make up a story about almost anything they asked her to. She knew a great deal about a great many things and enjoyed spouting trivia on a variety of topics. If anyone doubted her, she told them she knew it to be so because she had read it in The Book of Knowledge.
*
Margaret’s best friend, Jayne Thurston, had a father who was a famous magician. Playing at their house was always an adventure because he liked to test his latest illusions on the neighborhood children before performing in front of a paying public. It wasn’t unusual for his crew to parade giraffes, monkeys, and elephants up and down the streets. Teatime there once included a fake cobra that slithered across the table and poured their tea, and the girls often dressed up in glitzy stage clothes in the warehouse where theatrical props were stored. Deadly pets also were kept there, including a lion. Margaret was astonished by its sheer size as he paced in his cage. She had seen a lion in the zoo, but this enormous beast was close enough to touch. Jayne’s father also let them hold a lion cub, and that moment filled Margaret with awe. The warm tenderness and soft fur of the small beast was like holding a living toy.
One day, Margaret, Roberta, and Jayne found a dead bird at the edge of the forest, and it was Margaret who decided they should hold a funeral for the unfortunate creature. She dispatched Roberta to gather the other neighborhood children while she and Jayne headed to the Brown house to collect a Bible and shovel.
Margaret held the oversized Bible as she led the children back to the edge of the woods. None of them had ever been to a funeral, but Margaret instinctively knew what to do. They dug a small hole and then lined it with ferns from the woods. They wrapped the bird in leaves and placed it into the ground. Margaret read a passage from the Bible, and another child said a prayer. They sang a sad song, then covered the grave. On top, they placed flowers collected from the field, and Margaret spoke for the group. She promised they would return every day, bring new flowers, and always remember the poor little creature. And for a few days, they did, until the warm days of summer made them forget.
Three
1924–1927
Up in a cherry tree in the sun
The cherries ripened one by one.
Big red cherries, there they hung
And I ate them in the sun.
Some were yellow, some were red
And birds were singing round my head.
On their stems they hung
And I ate them one by one.
Spring was late, I couldn’t wait.
“RED CHERRIES”
Mouse of My Heart
When Margaret turned fourteen, her father’s work required that he move to India for two years. Maude would live with Bruce, and they would send their girls to Chateau Brillantmont, an exclusive boarding school in Lausanne, Switzerland, that catered to upper-class families from around the world. Placing Margaret and Roberta in Europe would make it easier for Maude to visit on school breaks and for the three of them to tour different countries over those two years.