It was, as Mark Twain called it the Gilded Age. Walter wasn’t as rich as the Vanderbilts, or the Rockefellers, but he had a commodity that served him well – his daughter. Dolly had learned her lessons at Madame Floushair’s School for Young Women. What they hadn’t taught her was her life was her own, not her father’s. And it all would have stayed buried in the past, but then, Pat Walker Lewis has a way of inviting ghosts to tell her their stories, and the music box wouldn’t let it rest. Someone wanted her to know what happens: When the Violets Bloom.