Page 43 of Wish You Were Her
A reply pinged into his secret folder and his heart stopped for a moment.
Subject: Who Are You?
Okay! Yes! I’ll see you there on Friday. Seven? Can you put a flower in a book so I recognize you? Just kidding.
This is scary and exciting. Promise you won’t be disappointed or mad?
Yours,
Friend
Jonah was typing furiously, enough to make Simon look over at him.
RE: Who Are You?
I’ll have a copy ofMiddlemarchby George Eliot. I knowAnna KareninaorPride and Prejudicewould be more romantic, butyou can’t missMiddlemarch, especially with a flower inside of it. I’m actually not kidding.
Seven it is.
Bookseller
PS Still wish you were here. But soon, you will be! I don’t have a picture of it, but today’s book cameo isMy Storyby Marilyn Monroe and you can picture it sitting on the cluttered shop desk with me. Maybe I should read it myself, so I can learn more about the glamorous arrival we have staying in town with us.
He dashed off the email and fled from the computer, as if it were hot to the touch. He raced to the little festival corner they had set up and he began to organize the books of the mostly confirmed authors. The Monroe memoir remained on the counter but he would reshelve it later, he told himself as he focused on the selection before him.
Quentin Morrison’s books were notably absent. He had dropped out in an enormous huff and was apparently deriding the festival in one of the newspapers.
Simon moved to the computer, muttering about a missing book that he needed to find for a customer. He picked up the Marilyn Monroe book and turned it over to read the blurb. As he did so, the door to the upstairs flat burst open and Allegra appeared. Her hair was down, her face wore no makeup and yet she looked fresh and bright. A mixture of emotion crossed her face when she seemed to spot Simon at the computer, the book in his hand, and she gave the smallest smile.
“You can have a longer lie-in,” Simon teased. “Meeting isn’t until eleven.”
“I’m off to explore the town a bit more,” Allegra said breezily,peering toward the computer screen. Her eyes still appeared agitated and locked onto the book once more. “Nice choice.”
“Thanks,” Simon said, putting the uncompleted autobiography of the Hollywood icon back down on the desk. “Maybe I can learn a bit about you from it.”
Jonah sighed, slightly perturbed to have made the same comment in his email. For some strange reason, he wanted to grab her attention. He wanted her to acknowledge that he was also in the room.
“Have you seen the market?” he asked her.
Her head turned and she nodded at him. “Yes.”
“The square?”
“Yes.”
“The dance studio?”
“Yes.”
“The actual lake?”
