Authors: Siri Mitchell
Unrivaled (35 page)
from the Author
Candy is a surprisingly serious business. On occasion, it’s even been a ruthless one. Recipes cannot be patented or copyrighted, so the industry has been subject to corporate espionage since its beginnings. The hijacking of delivery trucks, stealing of recipes, and other acts of mischief were not uncommon.
The turn of the last century saw an evolution in the industry from the anonymous penny candy made in private kitchens to marketed and branded candy made by gigantic factories. It also saw the interplay between the practices of the nineteenth century’s big-business tycoons and twentieth-century progressives, between sweat-shop labor and laws that promoted workers’ rights. In 1914 Arkansas became the first state to enact a child labor law. It took a while, but the nation finally followed suit in 1938.
Candy was the great leveler of American society, one of the first conspicuous luxuries that became available to the lower classes. Candy wasn’t just a treat back then, it was an arriving.
In an era where consumption by the masses was growing, to buy a piece of candy was, in a very literal sense, to buy a piece of the American dream.
Though the candy industry has always offered a diverse array of treats, Americans have a long tradition of scorning anything having to do with hazelnuts, just as Europeans have generally disdained everything having to do with peanuts.
Flying machines were sights to behold when they first took to the skies. By 1910, nearly anyone who’d read a newspaper knew air machines truly flew, but, like the doubting apostle Thomas, they didn’t actually believe it until they saw it for themselves. What a wonder that must have been! On October 11, 1910, at Kinloch Field in St. Louis, Teddy Roosevelt became the first president to fly in an airplane.
When I was planning this story, I wasn’t quite sure where to set it. Something inside me whispered
St. Louis
, even though I wasn’t familiar with the city. But as I began to research, I realized my subconscious was smarter than I was. At one time St. Louis represented everything that was big and wonderful and full of promise in America. It was a perfect location for this story. Those readers familiar with St. Louis will know that I did not make up the Veiled Prophet Ball. A Queen of Love and Beauty has been crowned at that ball for over one hundred and thirty years. Although the event was originally planned to coincide with harvest, in recent times it has been moved to the month of December. In 1910, Lucy Norvell was crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty. In the interest of disclosure, I should mention here that I chose my Lucy’s name long before I discovered this fact.
Mr. Jacob Mahler of the black velvet ballet slippers ruled the ballrooms of St. Louis well into the 1920s. His dance studio provided the required social training for several generations of
the city’s elite. Over thirty Queens of Love and Beauty grew up under his watchful eye.
The independent woman and the single mother are not inventions of modern society. History is filled with stories of women who were discarded by their husbands or had to learn how to make do when their spouses weren’t able to function due to disease or disposition. We like to think people in the past did things the right way, but that’s never been true. The very first family in recorded history was dysfunctional.
Great injustices and many prejudices are produced the moment we decide we’re better than everyone else. Most of the time, in a paraphrase of Winnie Compton:
We’re all the same at believing we’re not the same and being wrong because we are. It’s about God . . . and what He’s done. It’s not about us. It’s never been about us. Because we’re not good enough, and we never will be.
To my agent, Natasha Kern, and to my editors, Dave and Sarah Long, who were excited about this book from the word candy. To the wise person who suggested the perfect solution to my biggest character problem . . . and inadvertently discovered one of the themes of this novel. To Maureen Lang, first reader and friend, who encouraged me during a frenetic writing schedule. To Erin Fryman who graciously answered my questions about candy making. And to my husband, Tony, whose love is sweeter even than candy.
