Chapter One
Harvard College
It had taken nearly all of Violet’s strength to get herself out of bed that morning, but she’d managed to pull on her jeans, slip on a sweatshirt, and tie back her mane of red hair.
Exiting her dorm, the world bristled against her and the sting of the crisp air awakened her senses.
Violet had barely looked up from the ground as she walked the narrow path behind Dexter Gate toward Widener Library.
As she entered the Yard, the still of morning had vanished and Harvard buzzed with life.
Beneath the canopy of autumn foliage and against the stretch of carefully manicured green lawn, students congregated in groups, their heads tilted back in laughter.
Athletes rode by on bicycles, and a lone couple kissed before parting for class.
She adjusted the straps of her backpack and treaded up the building’s stone steps. Everything felt so heavy it hurt.
But as she entered the marble lobby, Violet’s mood shifted.
The frenetic world of campus life slipped away and the quiet fell around her like snow.
She closed her eyes and inhaled the smell she’d loved since she was a child, as if she were arriving now into a world of familiar friends.
The fragrance of paper, glue, and leather. The scent of books.
Her job as a library page for Harvard’s rare book and manuscript collection, was the only thing that had kept Violet grounded since the accident.
When she applied for part-time work through the Student Employment Office, she had no way of knowing that the position she’d receive would provide more than the extra money she needed, but also a refuge.
Upon learning about the job, Violet had assumed it would be mostly running rare books that were requested by students or scholars, shepherding them from the stacks, to the peaceful sanctuary of the Houghton Reading Room.
Only later would she realize it was so much more.
Madeline Singer, the head of special programs and the librarian curator for the Harry Elkins Widener Collection, was the last person she met in the interview process.
“I’m so pleased to meet you.” Madeline gestured for her to sit down. “I’ve already gone over your application and heard many wonderful things about you from my colleagues.”
“It’s great to meet you too,” Violet said, as she settled into the spare chair. She glanced at the tower of papers on Madeline’s desk, the stacks of books with sticky notes peeking out, and the coffee mug that said in bold block letters: JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER. Her initial nervousness softened.
“I’ve met with my staff and we’re happy to be able to offer you a job as a page at the library.
We have an amazing team of students working with us, every single one of them is a great lover of books.
As you can imagine, we only offer this job to students who are extremely mindful of the precious nature of our collection. ”
“Thank you,” Violet stressed the words, hoping to magnify her gratitude. She had wanted the job so much. “I know how priceless so many of these books are, Ms. Singer. I’ll be extremely careful.”
“Good. That’s what we want to hear.” Madeline pushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
“The majority of our rare books and manuscripts will be accessible when a request comes in. You’ll get an index card with the necessary information and call number to retrieve it,” she elaborated.
“We trust our pages to put each book on a trolley and transfer them through the library tunnels and elevators that connect to Houghton’s reading room.
All of that is quite straightforward. Later today, one of the other student pages will be sure to run through the protocol with you.
“The only exception is when you get a request for the Widener Memorial Collection. Those books are especially precious to Harvard. It wasn’t an accident that Mrs. Widener made sure that Harry’s collection was the central room of the library.”
It was true. From the moment one walked through the building’s entranceway, you could see Harry’s memorial room and his oil portrait above the fireplace emerging just beyond the top of the marble stairwell.
“I didn’t even know you could take his books out,” Violet admitted.
The wooden bookshelves in Harry’s room ran from the floor to the ceiling, each one filled with precious leather volumes.
But a protective glass covering shielded them.
The collection had always appeared to Violet like a permanent museum exhibit.
One could see his vast library, just not touch it.
“Yes. They’re available to read, but there’s an alarm code. So when a book needs to be taken out, you’ll need to find either me or another librarian to put in the code so you can retrieve the book from behind the glass casings with a key.”
Violet nodded and made a mental note.
“And while we’re on that subject, you might have read in last week’s Crimson that we’ve had some extremely unfortunate vandalization at Widener recently. Several books have been discovered slashed or with pages torn out.”
Violet had seen the report in the last issue of the school paper. She’d been so disturbed by the thought that anyone would purposefully destroy a book. “Yes, I did see that… it’s just awful!”
“It really is. And we have to be extra vigilant about our security now. I’m particularly concerned about the Widener collection and the Memorial Room.
The staff has to take every precaution. We’ve even stopped putting a book from Harry’s collection on his desk because we need to keep every volume safe. ”
“That’s understandable,” Violet said.
“The administration has asked that we only have library staff inside that room, not the independent custodial company we use, while the investigation is ongoing. So while I know it’s not in your job description, I’m wondering if for the next few weeks I could entrust you to just take a damp dust rag and wipe down Harry’s desk and the table in his room? ”
“Of course.”
“Then there’s just one more thing…” Madeline leaned forward.
“I’m sure you know the Widener Memorial Room has had fresh flowers placed on Harry Widener’s desk each week since the inception of the library.”
“Yes,” Violet answered. She had remembered being very moved when her tour guide had stood outside the steps of the library and described how Mrs. Widener had asked for fresh flowers to be delivered weekly to Harry’s Memorial Room and that they be placed on his desk so it looked like her son might arrive at any moment and sit down and read.
“While a standing order with the florist is easy enough, I’ve always ordered the flowers myself in the past because I wanted to add a personal touch and honor Harry’s legacy.
The curator before me did this as well. I remember her telling me that ordering the flowers helped her feel connected to Harry’s spirit.
Madeline’s eyes softened. “I’ve always felt the same. ”
“That’s a lovely sentiment,” Violet said. “And I’m sure if Eleanor Widener were alive, she’d be extremely touched that so many curators have taken her request to heart.”
“Yes. Absolutely. So you can imagine how annoyed I was with myself when I actually forgot to order them last week! I blame it on the investigation and the looming deadline for an article I’ve been working on.
“Anyway, I was thinking it might be smart to give the responsibility to a motivated student like yourself who can keep track of these things.” She folded her hands. “I don’t want to overburden you, but of course, we’d be paying you for the extra time you put in.”
“Honestly, that sounds great. I’d be happy to have a few extra hours of work.”
“Wonderful. I appreciate it so much.”
“This will allow me to keep focused on my research.” Madeline let out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m hoping to publish my paper this spring.”
“It’s a pleasure to help out.”
“Good. It will be one less thing for me to worry about, thank you. This paper’s been a passion project for me and I’m anxious to wrap it up.”
“Can I ask what it’s about?” Violet was naturally curious. She always liked hearing what professors or the faculty at Harvard were working on.
“I’m focusing on the booksellers who helped shape Harry’s early collecting, particularly A.S.W. Rosenbach.”
“The book dealer from Philadelphia?” Violet’s voice perked up.
Madeline was surprised. “You’re familiar with him?”
“Actually, I am.” Violet’s posture straightened with an unexpected surge of confidence.
She could hardly believe she had something to contribute to the conversation.
“I grew up in Philly. We visited the Rosenbach library for a school trip in high school. That was the first time I saw so many beautiful books under one roof.”
Madeline chuckled. “You’re in the right place then. I’m so pleased you’ll be working here. And if you’re interested in my research… I’ve been looking for a bright student to help transcribe some of the letters between the two men.”
“Really?” Violet was definitely interested in learning more about Philadelphia’s most famous bookseller. The memory of Rosenbach’s townhouse on Walnut Street and its antique and book-filled rooms had stayed with her. “I’d love to help you.”
“That’s music to my ears.” Madeline’s eyes twinkled behind her glasses.
She shuffled through her papers and pulled out a photocopy of Rosenbach.
Dressed in a tweed jacket, spectacled and scholarly in appearance, the image showed he possessed all of the distinguishing characteristics of a bibliophile.
“Rosenbach was the one who guided Harry as a young Harvard student in his first foray into book collecting. He not only helped purchase the majority of the books now in the collection here, he also knew why Harry would appreciate them in the first place.”
“Wow,” Violet said as she gazed at the image. “They definitely didn’t mention that at all on our school field trip.”
“I imagine they didn’t have time. Rosenbach had quite the full life. But of course, he lived to a ripe old age, unlike Mr. Widener. Only twenty-seven when he drowned.”
Violet’s expression changed.
Madeline studied her for a moment. “I should be completely transparent with you. I heard about what happened over the summer. Professor Gupta shared it with me when I was checking references for your work application.” She paused and considered her words. “I hope this job will help you heal.”
Violet stiffened. “Thank you. It’s been hard, but I’m trying to move forward.”
“I’m sure you know the history of this library. How it was born from grief.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to suggest that I chose your application over the others because of what happened to you.
But I will say that I’m very conscious of the emotions that motivated the building of this library in the first place.
Eleanor Widener created it not as a mausoleum to her son’s memory, but a celebration of his life and his love of books.
I think that spirit remains essential to Widener. ”
“I understand that connection completely,” Violet said. “My grandmother’s books were her legacy to me.”
“Then it’s another reason why you’re a great fit for this job. That and Professor Gupta saying that you were one of his most gifted students. He showed me your paper on Francis Bacon. It was quite inspired.
“Bacon,” Madeline added, “has a special place in Widener’s story, too.”
Violet’s mind rushed to recall any connection she might have come across during her research, but she could think of none. “I didn’t know that…”
“Yes, well,” Madeline quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s unfortunate I have to rush off to an appointment now. But consider today an amuse-bouche, then, in whetting your appetite for working here. I’ll save the Bacon story for another time.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Violet said.
“You’ll be busy here at the library and I couldn’t be happier to have you with us.”
Madeline stood up from her desk and grabbed a folder, stuffing it into her leather satchel.
“So, first things first. Order the flowers to be delivered on Wednesday. And then do the same weekly. Francine will walk you through the protocol of retrieving the books, and you and I can discuss my Rosenbach research next time we meet.”
Madeline reached into her bag, pulled out a pen and notepad, then scribbled down a phone number.
“The florist certainly knows us well. Her family’s been providing the flowers here ever since the library first opened.
It should cost forty-five dollars, including delivery.
And whatever flowers you do select, just keep them within the palette Mrs. Widener always preferred.
The colors of sunshine. Keep them bright. ”