Acclaimed author Trisha R. Thomas delivers a masterful new tale of scandal and intuition. In 1950s oil-rich Oklahoma, Bailey Dowery, a dressmaker with the gift of “second sight,” reluctantly reveals the true loves and intentions of her socialite clients, making her a silent witness to a shocking crime.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Trisha R. Thomas’s The Secret Keeper of Main Street, which is out now.
1954: In the quaint town of Mendol, Oklahoma, Bailey Dowery is a Black dressmaker for the wives and daughters of local oil barons. She earns a good living fitting designer gowns and creating custom wedding dresses for the town’s elite. But beyond her needle and thread lies a deeper talent, one passed down from her mother: the gift of insight. With just a fleeting touch or brush against the skin, Bailey has sudden flashes of intuition— witnessing the other person’s hopes, dreams, and nightmares, as well glimpses of their past and future. To protect herself, she wears gloves to keep from grazing the skin of her clients as she pins them into their gowns.
Brides have whispered that Bailey can see if their true love is faithful, or if their marriage will be a success. Her aunt Charlene has always warned her, “It’s safer to stay out of White folks’ business.” But Bailey will reluctantly provide a reading during a fitting, as long as the bride promises to be discreet.
Now Elsa Grimes, daughter of one of the richest oil men in Oklahoma, has come to the Regal Gown as the least joyful bride Bailey has ever seen. Elsa’s big society wedding is imminent and her gown is gorgeous, but what Bailey’s intuition uncovers when she touches Elsa’s hand horrifies her. Against her better judgment, she’s determined to help Elsa in whatever way she can. But when the son of a prominent family turns up dead on the eve of Elsa’s wedding, and the bride-to-be is arrested for his murder, Bailey is suddenly at the center of a firestorm that threatens to overtake her and everyone she loves.
CHARLENE HAD CHANGED EVERYTHING in her life for Matty Grimes in 1926. She would have done anything for him back then, all because he convinced her anything was possible, that the two of
them were possible.
They’d been seeing each other, sneaking around, for nearly a year. She couldn’t recall a single day when they hadn’t found a way to put their hands on each other. He seemed to conveniently show up right when she was changing the bedsheets for washday. She hadn’t believed anything would come of their tryst. She was smarter than that.
It was Matty who professed his love. He said it first while she swished the mop back and forth on the modest-sized floor in the Grimes family kitchen one morning.
“I hate seeing the woman I love doing this kind of work,” he said, sitting on the kitchen counter. “We should leave here, find someplace we can be together. Really together. No more sneaking around.”
Charlene laughed. But then she saw the spark in his eyes under the heavy hood of his thick lashes, and realized he wasn’t just blowing smoke. She paused, using the mop stick to lean against. “I love
you too, Matty,” she’d said. “But do you really think that kind of place exists for us?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it, Char.”
He’d convinced her to believe it too.
Years later, when she’d returned to Mendol, she’d asked around in polite conversation about her old employers, Hubertus and Joann Grimes, and learned inadvertently about their prominent and successful son. How he became a leader, a pioneer who had singlehandedly put Mendol on the map with his company, Senate Oil, one of the biggest little oil developers in the Midwest. How he’d become important enough to be spared from the early draft, since
his time and expertise better served the country if he kept the oil pumping for the war effort. Quite proud they all were of their prodigal son.
Once, when she’d first returned to Mendol, Charlene had waited outside those Senate Oil gates, not one of her prouder moments. She hadn’t planned what she was going to say. She’d only wanted him
to see her, to know she had not been broken by him and his useless promises.
Well, she had been broken, but since then had healed.
She’d sat there in her dead sister’s car with her best dress on, wearing a fresh coat of ruby-red lip color. When she recognized him in his shiny automobile coming straight toward her, she lost her nerve and shoved herself down in the seat. But she’d seen him, Matthias “Matty” Grimes, his hair parted on the same side, shellacked to submission. The glasses were new, making him look smart and mature. But hadn’t he always been smart and mature? With him being three years older, and of course wiser, she’d listened to and believed anything he had to say. Now he was in his late forties. She peeked up for
another glimpse, but he had turned out of the gate.
Naturally, she started the engine and followed him.
The road felt endless, making her wonder if he’d drive to the end of the city line. The gas gauge needle pointed down in the wrong direction. Was it really worth it to be stranded on the hot pavement?
She talked herself into stopping just before he made a few quick turns into a tree-lined suburb. He made a final swoop right, disappearing up a long driveway. The peak of a castle was visible just beyond the trees. Charlene didn’t dare enter. No one who looked like Charlene would be in this neighborhood unless they were on staff. With her bright lips and bold striped dress, she couldn’t pass for the help anymore. Those days were long behind her. She also knew, on the cusp of twilight, that she’d better hurry back to be on the Eastside before dark.
She went home that night but returned to the industrial facility a few days later. She sat parked on the gravel road across from the entrance. There were three shifts where men came with their lunch pails, and Senate Oil shirts, and dungarees of their choice. Some wore full jumpers, gray with the emblem on the back. The white men who came in suits arrived once in the morning and left as late as
seven in the evening. And, like the first time, she followed Matthias all the way back to his home. Her goal had been to find out what he did when he thought no one was watching. Three trips in all before
she had surmised that he was indeed a family man, finetuned, better off than when she’d known him last. She wasn’t out to disturb his peace. She promised herself she wouldn’t interrupt his life.
Inadvertently, now he was interrupting hers. And her niece’s life. She couldn’t let that happen. For the past few nights, she’d found herself parked outside his grand estate. Sitting. Watching. She wasn’t sure what her plan was. She for sure didn’t have one.
If she got the chance, she wasn’t sure what she’d say. Charlene took a long, deep breath and placed her hands on her stomach. This was her ritual at night. For a few minutes, she practiced forgiving herself for the past. Just breathe and let it out. She tried forgiving him too.
From the book THE SECRET KEEPER OF MAIN STREET by Trisha R. Thomas. Copyright © 2024 by Trisha Thomas. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
