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Summary
Summary
NOW AN INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER
" Bachelor Girl plunges the reader deep into life during the Jazz Age...and the revealing of other secrets and confessions will keep readers up all night looking for answers." -- Booklist , starred review
From the New York Times bestselling author of Orphan #8 comes a fresh and intimate novel in the vein of Lilac Girls and The Alice Network about the destructive power of secrets and the redemptive power of love--inspired by the true story of Jacob Ruppert, the millionaire owner of the New York Yankees, and his mysterious bequest in 1939 to an unknown actress, Helen Winthrope Weyant.
When the owner of the New York Yankees baseball team, Colonel Jacob Ruppert, takes Helen Winthrope, a young actress, under his wing, she thinks it's because of his guilt over her father's accidental death--and so does Albert Kramer, Ruppert's handsome personal secretary. Helen and Albert develop a deepening bond the closer they become to Ruppert, an eccentric millionaire who demands their loyalty in return for his lavish generosity.
New York in the Jazz Age is filled with possibilities, especially for the young and single. Yet even as Helen embraces being a "bachelor girl"--a working woman living on her own terms--she finds herself falling in love with Albert, even after he confesses his darkest secret. When Ruppert dies, rumors swirl about his connection to Helen after the stunning revelation that he has left her the bulk of his fortune, which includes Yankee Stadium. But it is only when Ruppert's own secrets are finally revealed that Helen and Albert will be forced to confront the truth about their relationship to him--and to each other.
Inspired by factual events that gripped New York City in its heyday, Bachelor Girl is a hidden history gem about family, identity, and love in all its shapes and colors.
Author Notes
Kim van Alkemade is the author of the historical novels Orphan #8 and Bachelor Girl . Her creative nonfiction essays have appeared in literary journals including Alaska Quarterly Review , CutBank , and So To Speak . Born in New York City, she earned a BA in English and history from the University of Wisconsin-Parkside, and an MA and PhD in English from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She is a Professor in the English Department at Shippensburg University of Pennsylvania, where she teaches writing.
Reviews (1)
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Van Alkemade's sophomore effort (after Orphan #8, 2015) is a historical novel set in 1920s and '30s New York City, based on the scandalous true story of the millionaire owner of the New York Yankees leaving a fortune to an unknown ex-actress. Colonel Jack Ruppert is the wealthy Yankees owner, and for reasons unexplained, he takes an interest in the life of Helen Winthrope, the daughter of a dead friend. The story is told from the alternating viewpoints of Winthrope herself and Ruppert's young personal secretary, Albert Kramer. The two develop an unconventional bond over their attempts to understand why Ruppert showers them with his generosity. From the first paragraphs, Bachelor Girl plunges the reader deep into life during the Jazz Age, delving into topics not often associated with the time period, including abortion and homosexuality. Details do not slow down the pace, though, and the mystery of Ruppert's largesse and the slow revealing of other secrets and confessions will keep readers up all night looking for answers alongside Winthrope and Kramer.--Gerber, Rebecca Copyright 2018 Booklist
Excerpts
Excerpts
Bachelor Girl Prologue: January 20, 1939 Steam heat fogged the tall windows as Albert and I joined the crowd assembled in the lawyer's office. A clerk with a clipboard ran around, establishing that everyone listed in the will was in attendance. "Helen Winthrope?" he asked. I nodded. It felt strange to see him check off my name. I hadn't expected Jake to leave me anything, not after all he'd done for me while he was alive. Chairs had been arranged as in a small classroom. Albert and I exchanged somber nods of recognition with the members of Jake's household staff as we found seats in the back row. Ahead of us sat managers from the brewery and the realty company and the baseball team. Representatives from Lenox Hill Hospital and the Metropolitan Museum, anticipating major gifts, tried not to look too eager. Up front, Jake's brother, George, sat with his sons and nephews, black bands fitted around the sleeves of their jackets. I assumed the women, swathed in black crepe with starling feathers bristling from their hats, were Jake's sister and his nieces. I'd never been in the same room with them before. It took a while for the lawyer to read through all the small bequests, gifts of five hundred or a thousand dollars to the many people who'd served Colonel Jacob Ruppert so well. Besides his chauffeur, he'd made provision for his laundress and his cook, for the brewmaster who was his oldest employee, and for the zookeeper who'd cared for his many animals. Jake had disbanded his kennel of Saint Bernards years ago, selling off the breeding stock and retaining only a few aging show dogs as pets. The peacocks would be left to wander Eagle's Rest, I supposed, the next owners of the estate forced to take them on. The monkeys would be going to the Bronx Zoo, I learned. Thinking of them reminded me of when my little dog Pip died. I'd wrapped his body in a blanket and rushed up the Hudson to Eagle's Rest to show his corpse to the rhesus female who loved him so. I knew she'd never stop pestering me if she didn't understand in her own way that he was dead. She'd reached through the bars of her cage and taken my limp Pip in her arms, mourning him like a lost infant. I returned my attention to the proceedings at the lawyer's office. Jake left his collection of Chinese vases and jade carvings to the Metropolitan Museum, as expected. The bequest of one hundred thousand dollars to Lenox Hill Hospital seemed unaccountably large, I thought, given their failure to cure the phlebitis that killed him. Mr. Nakamura was recognized with a bequest of five thousand dollars, a handsome sum for a butler. When the lawyer announced that Albert had been left ten thousand dollars I took his hand, delighted that his years of loyal service as Jake's personal secretary had been so generously acknowledged. A man could buy a comfortable house on Long Island for less than that. My mind wandered as I pictured myself helping Albert pick out curtains and carpets. Perhaps we could plant a garden. I imagined a patch of grass bordered with tiger lilies and black-eyed Susans, an apple tree that would flower in spring and fruit in the fall. "To Miss Helen Winthrope--" The sound of my name pulled me back to the present. "I bequeath my estate known as Eagle's Rest, along with all associated properties and contents." My fantasy about a brick bungalow on Long Island evaporated as I tried to absorb the idea that Eagle's Rest was mine. I couldn't understand why Jake had picked me for such an extravagant inheritance. I thought back to that day we'd first seen the property, Jake telling me how he wanted a house of his own where he could be himself with his family and friends. A lifelong bachelor who'd outlived three of his siblings, he didn't have much family, but Albert and I had tried to make up for it. I remembered standing beside Jake on the widow's walk of the old Victorian he'd torn down to make way for his new mansion. That's where we saw that eagle carry off its prey. We'd been speaking of my father's death--it was coming back to me now--and I'd been so relieved to learn he hadn't died alone. I supposed that was what Jake wanted me to think of, because it could only be symbolic, this gift. How could a single woman possibly fill fifteen bedrooms? Besides, there was no way I could afford the upkeep. I supposed I'd have to sell it, peacocks and all, though who'd buy an estate like that in this Depression I had no idea. Since the Crash, the market was glutted with the abandoned mansions of impoverished millionaires. In the end, my inheritance might not amount to much more than Albert's. "--the sum of three hundred thousand dollars." A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. I leaned over to Albert, my voice a whisper. "What did he say?" "Three hundred thousand dollars." "Oh, who was that for?" I'd thought the museum and the hospital had been the biggest legacies. Albert searched my face as if some secret message were written on my skin. "You, Helen. It's for you." All the heads of all the people in all the chairs turned toward me. The room began to blur. I shut my eyes tight and yanked them open again, testing to see if I were in a dream. The lawyer cleared his throat, his mouth giving voice to Jake's words. "As to the remainder of my holdings, including all my various enterprises, as detailed below"--his eyes swept down the document until they landed again on solid ground--"and in particular the New York Yankees baseball team, of which I have been sole owner since 1923, I direct it be divided between my nieces--" He paused to indicate two women, both married now and known only by their husband's names. I shifted in my seat, assuming we'd reached the end of the will. But he had one more name to read. "--and Miss Helen Winthrope, in three equal shares." He lifted his head and scanned the room. "Thus concludes the reading of Jacob Ruppert's will. Bequests shall be distributed once the will has been accepted by the probate court. If you would be so good as to make sure my clerk has your correct address on your way out?" I would have fled the room right then but Albert pulled down on my arm. I hadn't realized I was still holding his hand, squeezing it, really. I was afraid his knuckles might have cracked. I stretched open my fingers and saw that they were shaking. "If the principal beneficiaries could remain." The lawyer raised his voice over the hum of conversation. "There are some matters to discuss." Jake's black-clad relatives huddled around the lawyer's desk. They must have thought I was a gold-digging hussy, this unrelated woman who'd usurped their inheritance. Who would believe, now, that I was simply Jake's friend? My stomach churned. "Albert, I don't think I can spend another second in this room." I asked him to stay for me and find out what they wanted; people were so used to seeing the two of us together, I figured we were interchangeable. I must have gone white as marble to have inspired his look of panic. "Of course, Helen, let's get you home. I'll come by after it's all settled." I didn't even notice Albert putting my coat over my shoulders or leading me out to the sidewalk. The next thing I knew, I was dropping into the backseat of a cab, my knees watery. I grabbed his lapel before he could close the door. "Did you know?" "No, Helen. I promise, I had no idea." "Come over as soon as you can." I lifted my chin for a kiss, his lips quick on my mouth. I was halfway across Manhattan before it occurred to me I couldn't feel my toes. Looking down at my feet, I saw from the state of my shoes that I must have carelessly stood in a puddle of slush, though I had no memory of even stepping off the curb. By the time I got home, the cold had risen up my legs until even my neck was stiff. I hoped Clarence would be in the lobby, but he was nowhere in sight. I went up to the apartment I still shared with my mother, even after all these years. She was waiting in the doorway. At the sight of my shocked face, she asked, "What is it, Helen? Didn't he leave you anything?" I hugged my mother tight, bracing her for the astonishing news that her spinster daughter had been transformed into an heiress. Excerpted from Bachelor Girl by Kim Van Alkemade All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.