Grace’s first love was already two years in the past. Harper Davis was a schoolmate of her brother, Kell. Harper had dark eyes and a broad brow beneath wavy black hair. He took Grace to basketball games and dances, and Grace pasted mementos from each of their dates in her scrapbook: the wrapper from the stick of gum Harper gave her on New Year’s Eve; the pressed flowers from his bouquets; the business card from the store where he bought her a silvery heart-shaped charm on Valentine’s Day. Then, in 1944, Harper graduated and immediately enlisted in the Navy to do his part in the war. Before he left, Grace tearfully called off the relationship. Her father had demanded that she end it; she was too young for a serious love affair. Grace, still the obedient daughter, complied. By the time Harper returned from service, Grace was already packing her bags to leave for New York.
Even at the Barbizon, at a point in their lives where they were focused on career and adventure, the prospect of a husband still hovered somewhere in the near future for Carolyn and Grace, an event on which everything hinged. A good man meant a good life: a nice safe home, a stable and happy existence. Choosing badly would mean suffering the consequences. Grace had a matchmaker’s instincts. She had become convinced that Carolyn might be a good match for her older brother. Kell was twenty-two, newly graduated from college, and still single. Up in the rooms at the Barbizon, Grace speculated. What if Carolyn and Kell fell in love and she and Carolyn ended up sisters-in-law?
That summer, Grace engineered a meeting at her family home, on Henry Avenue in East Falls, just outside Philadelphia. Built by Grace’s father in the Colonial style, the Kelly mansion was surrounded by grounds and trees, with so many bedrooms and bathrooms that no matter how many times Carolyn counted, she still lost track. That weekend, the Kellys were all assembled, four siblings and two parents, all of them fair-haired, energetic, and able. The mansion, the manicured grounds, the staff, the regimented schedule of the day—all of this allowed houseguests to go from one enjoyable activity to another without having to pause to clean or cook or weed or launder. For Carolyn, the house on Henry Avenue was a stark contrast to her own home, the clapboard house with its pointed gable, its three rooms upstairs and two rooms down, the fractured mix of stepfather and half siblings inside.
At meals and excursions, Grace made sure her brother and Carolyn had chances to spend time together. Carolyn and Kell sat next to each other at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They walked into town side by side. There was no doubt that Kell was good-looking, with his neat crew cut and strong jaw. But his focus, as it had been since childhood, was on sports. Kell was a champion rower. The summer before, the entire family had traveled to England to see him compete in the Diamond Sculls race at Henley-on-Thames. Kell had won—and he was still talking about the achievement. It wasn’t that Carolyn wasn’t impressed; it was just that they had so little in common. Kell was two years older, but even so, he struck her as being too similar to the high school jocks she’d left behind in Steubenville.
Carolyn told Grace. Grace understood, but she was not deterred. She was going to keep her eyes open for someone else.
* * *
BACK IN THE CITY, Grace was taking on more modeling jobs, fitting in her assignments around her classes at the Academy. She started lightening her hair to the palest blond. Gone were the sensible shoes, cardigans, and tweed skirts that she used to wear when they’d first arrived at the Barbizon. In their place were cocktail dresses and fur stoles for going out to parties. In the evenings, Grace began leaving behind her horn-rimmed glasses, fearful that if she wore glasses, prospective suitors might fail to notice her. Going without her glasses meant she couldn’t see more than a foot ahead of her, but on the upside, it gave her a distant, dreamy look, which men seemed to find irresistible.
That same year, Grace made her first real New York conquest, the film actor Alexander D’Arcy. She had met Alex at a Park Avenue party she’d attended with friends from the Academy. Alex was ten years older, six feet tall, with black hair and a pencil mustache. To a young acting student like Grace, Alex was glamorous in the extreme. He’d appeared in films with Cary Grant and Ginger Rogers; he was a friend of Errol Flynn’s. That night, he asked Grace out for dinner. “Call me,” she said confidently. “I’m at the Barbizon.” And he did call. For their first date, he took her to El Morocco, where she sat next to him on the zebra-print banquette; the owner himself, John Perona, came to sit and chat with them at their table. For their second date, they went dancing at the Stork Club under the midnight-blue ceiling filled with winking stars.
With Alex on her arm, Grace’s social life was transformed. She wanted Carolyn to join her. Although she had failed to pair Carolyn with her brother, Kell, she had a new idea. Grace had first run into Malcolm Reybold on Long Island, playing tennis on Sherman Fairchild’s courts. Sherman was famous for his extravagant parties, which usually lasted the entire weekend. Malcolm was one of Sherman’s closest friends. He was older and divorced,
