The lawsuit with Scott about The Noisy Book series was settled at the beginning of the year, although there were too many personal affronts for Margaret and Bill Scott to ever again be close. However, he did want Margaret back on board as a Scott author. He asked her to write a companion for A Child’s Goodnight Book they had published years before.
Michael’s death and the exploding icebox gave Margaret a new perspective on the preciousness of life. She wrote letters to three of her illustrators, praising the work they did on their recent books with her. When she realized that a manuscript she had sent to Phyra Slobodkina to illustrate was too similar to Harper’s Goodnight Moon, she asked Golden to nix the project. She didn’t want to end up in another legal battle because she had stepped on another publisher’s rights. She reestablished a friendship with John McCullough, her old Scott colleague. She let him know that she appreciated his thoughtful comments on her manuscripts and respected his editorial talent.
Ursula, too, was once again a trusted friend. They went together to the Book Week ceremony at the New York Public Library, but when they arrived, Margaret realized she had left her invitation behind. The librarian standing guard at the door knew Margaret and her books well but refused to let her enter until all other guests arrived. There were plenty of empty seats, but the librarian wasn’t going to bend the rules for her.
Ursula stood with Margaret in the hall, chatting as their colleagues were ushered in. Margaret felt spurned once again by this group of self-important librarians. She grew more agitated as the time for the ceremony drew closer and the room was still far from full. These librarians enjoyed looking down on her. They would never accept her as a serious writer.
Angry tears formed in Margaret’s eyes, and she told Ursula she was leaving. Ursula didn’t want to abandon her friend and sometimes-favorite author, especially when it was obvious how upset she was. So the two women parked themselves on the front steps of the library, next to the lions. There, they held their own awards for Book Week and celebrated privately.
*
Margaret spent much of 1951 traveling to see friends, including a trip to upstate New York to be with Monty Hare for opening night of his tent road show of The Tempest. He had been director of the Barter Theatre in Abingdon, Virginia, for the last five years, and whenever possible, Margaret had driven to see his new shows and then on to Hollins for reunions or visits.
Monty had faced great difficulty getting the road show production off the ground. The union for stagehands struck the show, and costly delays set in. When opening night finally arrived, thunderstorms ripped away part of the large performance tent, and Monty was convinced their first show would be their last. Just then, Margaret arrived on the scene with a hot dog cart in the back of her convertible. She sang silly made-up songs about hot dogs and dispensed her wares to the arriving audience with good cheer. Monty was, as ever, grateful to his Birdbrain friend. Before Margaret returned to Manhattan, she had a draft for a song-filled story about a street vendor and his shiny hot dog wagon.
*
As promised, Margaret read from Michael’s poetry collection each morning. She longed to have Michael to explain obscure passages or to relish the beauty of some lines. Margaret was, though, learning to live for herself for the first time. Michael was gone, and Bill was no more than an old friend. This newfound independence spurred a story about a dog who was free to do as he wished, Mister Dog. It was the story of her and Crispian living together, but alone, both doing as they wished in their hidden world of Cobble Court. She was comfortable in her solitude. She belonged to herself and only herself.
Twenty-one
1952
The day before I met you
The sky was Cobalt blue
The trees were green
The birds were still
The day before I met you
The day before I met you
The earth was flat as flat
My heart was cold
My thoughts were old
The day before I met you
And then that day I met you
That glorious golden sky
As you walked in my hair rose up
My heart was beating too
I knew your face, I had dreamed your eyes
Before the day I met you
“THE DAY BEFORE I MET YOU”
Unpublished
In late March, Margaret sat down in her Cobble Court living room for a lengthy interview with a reporter from the News Leader in Richmond, Virginia. Margaret’s hair was cut in a short poodle style, and her curls rested on top of her head. She looked elegant in a tailored gray suit with a beige wrap over her shoulders. The room was decorated with touches of Virginia—dogwood blossoms set off by magnolia leaves. Margaret served tea on her antique French Quimper china, and on the table was a plate of freshly prepared hot cross buns. Margaret and the reporter discussed her strong ties with Virginia, her college days, and childhood visits there. Crispian soon grew impatient waiting for one of the buns and upset the butler’s table, snatching one of the treats and running away, effectively ending the interview. Regardless, Margaret liked what the reporter ended up writing. She weighed twenty pounds more than she wanted, so she was thrilled when she was described as tall and slender in the article. When her clipping service sent her the piece, she underlined those words and added exclamation marks then placed this revised version of the article in her scrapbook. Perhaps it was that article that spurred her cousin Morrie Johnston to invite her to Cumberland Island for an end-of-March vacation.
Within the week, Margaret was back at Plum Orchard. It was marvelous to see the Johnstons once again. It was still tradition for the Carnegie families to rotate dinners from house to house, and when it was the Johnstons’ turn to host, they held a casual dinner party.
Margaret took notice when a strikingly handsome young man arrived with a growler of the home brew they called “Sweet Lucy” as his family’s contribution to the meal. He, too, noticed Margaret. She stood at the foot of the house’s grand staircase, inside a graceful wooden alcove. To this man, she looked like a work of art. He made a beeline for her and stayed by her side for the rest of the evening. His name was James Stillman Rockefeller Jr., but he was known to family members as Pebble. He was fifteen years younger than Margaret and was one of the little children she’d played with at his grandparents’ home decades before.
Their attraction to each other was immediate and grew steadily as they talked throughout dinner and on into the late hours of the night. In the morning, they went for a walk on the beach. Like Margaret, Pebble treasured the sea and the breathtaking beauty of this island paradise. He loved how her golden hair was the same color as the glowing marshlands that surrounded the island. For the rest of her time on the island, Margaret and Pebble seldom left one another’s side. When she had to return to the deadlines and telephones of the publishing world, he made her promise to return as soon as she could.