What I Saw and How I Lied

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgment is way too genteel a word for the buckets of gush I want to dunk on the heads of those in my life who aided and abetted this book. First off, my amazing editor, David Levithan, truly a hunk of heaven, who took me to lunch and listened to a coming-of-age story involving blackmail, adultery, and possible homicide and said, "Cool!" Thank you, dear D, for your support and "perfect plumb" (look it up) over lo these many years. And a hunka burning love to everyone at Scholastic who liked this book and worked for it.

My cowgirl hat is hereby swept off in homage to my posse, Elizabeth Partridge, Julie Downing, and Katherine Tillotson, all of whom chase away blues and Mean Barbara like nobody's business. I am indebted to Donna Tauscher, as always, for her support, insight, and grace; to Jane Mason, gentle soul, fierce ally, and a friend for­ever; and to Meredith Ziemba, for sharing her stories, similes, art supplies, and whatever else she has in her truck at any given moment.

Every writer who tackles the historical past ends up standing on the shoulders of those who wrote insight­fully about the period. I am especially indebted to Jan Morris for her fine book, Manhattan '45, and to Kevin Coyne for Marching Home. For those interested in the story of the Gold Train and the strange journey that ended in an army warehouse in Salzburg, there are numerous Web sites with historical documents to peruse. For a definitive history, I relied on The Gold Train, by Ronald W. Zweig. The excellent research department at the Palm Beach Post sent me exhaustive accounts of the 1947 hurricane. A tip of the hat to Sandy Simon's charm­ing Remembering: A History of Florida's South Palm Beach County. Kelli Marin and Kathleen Holmes, experts in all things Florida, helped me out with hurricane holes. It was a lucky day when I stumbled on Barbara Holland's memoir, When All the World Was Young. Her prose is so crystal-perfect that I have a strong desire to put on a fetching hat and buy her a cocktail at some swanky hotel bar. A special thank-you to my parents for sharing news­papers and memories and photographs of their own journeys in the postwar years, as well as giving me all the support and love I could ever wish for.

And now, I saved the best for last. A toast to you, Neil and Cleo: To the moon and back.