Poemsia

by Lang Leav

  Pop’s eyes widened. “Who?”

  “Me.”

  His eyes softened, and a proud smile lit up his face.

  “What do you say?” I asked.

  “Sold!” he beamed.

  We fell into an easy silence, watching Zorro chase a bright yellow butterfly across the courtyard. I thought of my mother, and a bittersweet feeling welled up in me.

  “Daverist is the brand of cheese Sash is wild about. You can find it in the deli on that quiet strip—the one with the fruit cart out front.”

  “Noted,” I grinned. I thought about a picnic I could organize for the two of us and the surprised look on Sash’s face when he bit into his sandwich and realized it was made with the cheese he loved. I thought about how the smallest things could make him so happy, how lucky I was to have found him. All at once, I saw our life play out before me like a movie, one happy moment after the next, and the future somehow felt as familiar as a memory.

  Pop cleared his throat. “You know, a few weeks ago my story almost ended. By some miracle, I’m still here, and the story goes on. I’m ready for my next adventure.”

  “It’s funny you should say that. A few moments ago, I was thinking about that poem, you know the one from that book Poemsia?”

  “Remind me again—what was the poem about?”

  “About coming to the end of a book and not wanting to say goodbye to your favorite character.”

  “Ah, yes, that’s right, the struggle of parting ways, real and imaginary.”

  The sunshine warmed my skin, and a gentle breeze stirred the trees overhead. I loved the way the light streamed into the courtyard this time of day, arousing feelings of home and belonging.

  I saw Zorro take one more lunge at the yellow butterfly as it flew by Nan’s Japanese maple. It darted just out of his grasp, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Pop? If you were the author of this story, do you think this is where it ends?”

  Pop reached out and took my hand across the table. Together we watched the butterfly swoop into the sky.

  He shook his head and smiled. “For you, I think this is where it begins.”

  Epilogue

  The grand opening of Wolf Books far exceeded our expectations. A large crowd turned up to see yours truly cut the red ribbon with a pair of giant novelty scissors. I made a speech gratefully acknowledging Sash for the role he played in transforming the store from a shabby bookstore to a modern oasis for booklovers. I even thanked Penelope for dipping into her trust fund when the project went over budget.

  For six months Sash and I worked hard—drawing and redrawing plans, knocking down walls, sanding, and rewiring. We spent the good part of a month waist-deep in paint and fabric swatches. Jess helped with all the signage, and even Penelope lent her many talents to the project. I was surprised, even suspicious at first, by her sudden turnaround. After a while, even I could see that her passion and enthusiasm for the project were genuine. And some of her ideas were absolute genius. The best one involved splitting the store into two levels. The first floor was a mecca of new and out-of-print titles; the second held a treasure trove of secondhand books. The place was bright and airy now, with a feeling of newness and promise. We did make sure to keep the things that were important to Pop. The rusty old bell that had hung over the door remained exactly where it always had been, and of course, we kept the glass cabinet housing his cherished collection of signed books.

  On opening day, I could feel the satisfaction of making a dream come true with hard work and passion, seeing it through the eyes of all the people who had come to support us. There was a celebratory feeling in the air; laughter and chatter sounded all around me. The place had come to life, and I took a moment to appreciate it.

  Then the smell of freshly ground coffee hit me, and I turned to gaze proudly at the new home of Jonesy’s Last Chance café, tucked away under the staircase. It had taken a lot to convince Penelope to keep Jonesy’s eclectic décor, including the magnetic altar. I don’t think she had ever seen a fridge magnet! In the end I was glad we managed it because Last Chance fit in so perfectly it was hard to believe Jonesy’s café had ever been anywhere else.

  When it came to the PR, Penelope had worked miracles, and the place was swimming with journalists and influencers. By midmorning, we had already racked up hundreds of our #wolfbooks tag on Instagram. Crowds had been pouring in, and the lines that snaked around the cash register showed no signs of slowing. Penelope herself was looking more relaxed than I had ever seen her, in a pair of denim cutoffs and a T-shirt, chatting with Jonesy, who obviously was smitten.

  After Penelope wrote her retraction and apology in Billy, a slew of articles followed reporting on the fiasco. It sparked a healthy debate about misinformation and the danger of how quickly it can escalate. Now the dust had settled, and like Mena predicted, I still got hate from time to time. These days, I worried about it less.

  I spotted Sash straightening the collage he had made for me that now hung by the fiction shelf.

  “Hey,” I said, lightly punching his arm.

  “Hey,” he grinned.

  “How are you doing with the unpacking?”

  Sash officially had moved in to the small apartment he and I built upstairs. As a surprise, he created a charming outdoor area on the roof where we could follow the Sandra, Margo, and Paul saga in comfort. Currently, things were looking up for Margo.

  Sash also brought a member of the family with him—his cranky Chihuahua, Monty. He did it with a little trepidation, and as we feared, Zorro detested Monty on sight. After a brief altercation, the two kept their distance. But the other night, when he thought no one was looking, Zorro crept up to Monty and curled into his belly. Monty, who was madly in love with Zorro, hardly dared to breathe, but his tail twitched with barely contained joy.

  “Marcia says hello.” Sash’s mother appeared out of nowhere and drew me into a tight embrace.

  “Dotty! How is she doing over in Cebu?”

  A week ago, Marcia went to the Philippines with a team of doctors to work on Operation Smile, a volunteer project that provided life-changing surgery to children born with cleft lips.

  “She’s making a real difference,” Dotty said proudly.

  “Runs in the family.”

  “The place looks wonderful, guys. I’m so proud! By the way, how’s Little Lord Fauntleroy settling in?” In answer to her question, we heard Monty’s trademark grunt as he appeared at her feet. “Hey, we’ve missed you, little buddy!” She scooped him up and put him on her shoulder. Predictably, he proceeded to chew on her hair.

  After Penelope owned up to the stunt she pulled at Graham’s party, Dotty apologized profusely for how she had treated me. We went out for a cup of coffee and had been the best of friends ever since.

  Teddy and Tom came over to join us.

  “Hey, gang! Love what you’ve done here!” Teddy sang.

  “Glad you kept the old bell, even if it does remind me of Parker’s gong,” said Tom.

  I grinned. “How are Penelope and Jess getting on at Deep Sea Diver?” After the success of their cider launch, the boys were now moving into potato crisps. Jess, of course, was tasked with designing all the packaging.

  “Still fighting like cats, but the other day, we caught Jess breaking her subway sandwich in two and handing half to Penelope.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Knowing Jess as well as I do, that was a big deal.

  A call came through on my FaceTime, and I left the group to take it. Pop’s face beamed at me from somewhere in Kyoto. “What do you think, Pop?” I spun around slowly so he could get a better look.

  “Thumbs up all the way!”

  “I can’t wait for you to see it in real life.”

  “Ticket’s all booked for your birthday next month! I’ll be there before you know it.”

  “The spare room’s ready and waiting
. We’ve set up your favorite armchair so it overlooks the courtyard.” Sash had restored Nan’s garden to its former glory, and I couldn’t wait for Pop to see it. I blew him a kiss and put my phone away.

  Someone tapped my shoulder. “Verity Wolf?”

  I turned to see a petite lady with dark, wavy hair, her elfin-like face framed in tortoiseshell glasses.

  “My name is Geraldine, and I’ve been following your career. It’s been remarkable to see how well your book has done.”

  “Thank you!” My book was selling so well that Carry Way signed me up for a second one, and I couldn’t wait to get started.

  “I was actually in the crowd that day when you read your poetry in the park. I think I fell under your spell.”

  “Well, that was a really long time ago. I’ve improved since!” I gave her a sheepish smile.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You were perfect. By the way, I’m one of the admins for Poetry Seen. I was the one who shared your post.”

  “You’re kidding me!”

  “Not at all! I’m so happy to have discovered you. Your talent deserves to be appreciated by the world.”

  In a single moment of clarity, I saw all the way back to that day in the park and then forward again to the present. I looked around at the transformation of Wolf Books. I had witnessed all my dreams come to fruition, and I knew without a shred of doubt there was one person who was responsible for making it happen.

  I found Jess standing with a group of her college friends, animated and alive. My heart swelled with pride and happiness at the sight of my best friend. Impulsively, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly to me. “Thank you, Jess,” I whispered.

  She laughed. “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  Acknowledgments

  The story of Poemsia came to me when I was midway through writing an entirely different novel. The voice of Verity Wolf was so vivid and insistent, I wanted to immediately abandon my current project and start work on Poemsia. You can imagine my trepidation when I broached this with my agent, Al Zuckerman. But after sending him a few sample chapters of Poemsia, Al was well and truly on board. His enthusiasm, right from the beginning, helped spur this book into the novel I am immensely proud of today. Thank you, Al, for your faith in my vision. As always, it is a great privilege to work with you!

  Samantha Wekstein, thank you for your valuable feedback. Your insight from the start greatly helped to shape Poemsia, and for that, I am truly grateful.

  Thank you to Kirsty Melville, Patty Rice, Kathy Hilliard, and the team at Andrews McMeel for all your support. Kirsty, you were a fan of Poemsia back when it was just an idea in my head. Patty, this was our most exciting project to date, and I had so much fun working on this book with you! Kathy, I can’t wait to send another one of our books into the world.

  Chris Schillig, thank you for whipping my manuscript into shape. It wouldn’t be the same book without you!

  Cameron Stewart, thank you for lending your striking illustrations to the cover, and Diane Marsh for putting it all so beautifully together.

  Oliver, who is always cheering me on. Proud of you, math boy!

  To Michael, my love. My partner in life and work. Thank you for more than a decade of laughter, creativity, and magic.

  Last but definitely not least, thank you to all my readers. My heart bursts with love for you.

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