Eighty Days to Elsewhere

by kc dyer

  She removes the title deed from the envelope.

  I manage to catch Dom’s eye. WTF? I mouth at him, but he shrugs and raises his eyebrows at me.

  Teresa turns to Merv.

  “We have a firm policy at ExLibris of supporting our staff,” she says, handing Merv the deed. “A happy staff is a loyal staff, yes?” she adds, raising an eyebrow at Frank, who nods vigorously.

  “A good staff is like family,” he says, sounding not at all like Don Corleone.

  Merv accepts the envelope and immediately chokes up as he tries to thank her.

  “Nonsense,” she says, patting his arm gently. “This arrangement can only benefit ExLibris, after all. It makes perfect sense that we affiliate with an independent bookstore. I have big plans to feature some of your collection on our site. It’s a marvelous chance to offer up more variety to our clientele.”

  “Of course,” says Merv eagerly, having found his voice at last. “Whatever we can do.”

  He and Tommy beam at each other, and I have to look up at the ceiling to keep a grip on myself.

  Teresa strides over beside me. “We have the ideal liaison in Ramona, of course. I assume you are fairly conversant with the stock of the establishment?”

  I take a deep breath and try to focus. “Of course,” I say. “Intimately.”

  This makes Dom wiggle his eyebrows at me again, dammit.

  Teresa appears not to notice. “Excellent. An absolute added-value to our clients.”

  “I’ve always thought it was a nice space,” says Frank, glancing around appreciatively. “If we clear away some of these books, maybe we can do poker here on Friday nights?”

  Oblivious to the collective expressions of horror around her, Teresa pats his hand. “We’ll see, honey,” she says. “I may have other ways of keeping you busy on Friday nights.”

  Okay, so I’m ashamed to admit that it’s not until this moment the penny drops for me. In my own defense, I have been somewhat distracted since my arrival home. Not much sleep. I blame Dominic.

  I stare at the moony expression on Frank’s face, and everything comes clear.

  “You two—are a couple?” I gasp, and to my utter shock, Teresa gives a girlish giggle.

  “We’ve been playing in the same poker group for months,” she admits. “But somehow, even after fleecing him three weeks running, including winning the bookshop . . .”

  “I stole her heart,” Frank says, beaming.

  “He’s a bit of a hard case,” Teresa admits with the teeniest shrug, “but I’ve always been a gambler, after all.”

  Merv, still emotional from becoming a recent cat grandfather, wipes his eyes with the back of one hand and holds up the title deed to the bookstore. “Are you sure about this?” he asks Teresa.

  “I don’t have time to look after the day to day in a bookshop,” she scoffs. “In fact, now that I have two such capable new employees to handle things at ExLibris, I think I’ve earned some time off.”

  She flips down her sunglasses. “I am—that is—we are,” she corrects, squeezing Frank’s arm, “heading for Reykjavík.”

  “Iceland?” I blurt, astonished.

  “Indeed. Your eighty days to elsewhere have inspired me. After we send our client out on the re-creation of Fogg’s journey the two of you so ably put together, I need to scout a few locations for other Verne books.” Her smile widens. “There’s a lava cave in Iceland I need to check out,” she says, waving her phone. “Frank and I plan to Snapchat our way to the center of the earth.”

  Venal leans over to me. “I’ve never been outta the Big Apple before,” he says in a stage whisper. “But now that I’ve found the right escort, I’m ready to see the world.”

  “Escort’s maybe not the best word in this case,” mutters Dom, but Venal ignores him.

  Truthfully, I’m finding it impossible not to grin back at Venal. His smile lights up his face, the creases around his eyes erasing a lifetime of frown lines in an instant.

  “He has a few things to learn about treating people decently,” says Teresa, patting Venal’s hand. “But I can’t think of a better way than travel to open his eyes.”

  As Venal reaches up to kiss Teresa on the cheek, she snaps a selfie of the two of them with her phone. Then she turns, gesturing imperiously at Dom and me.

  “Enough dillydallying. Back to ExLibris, you two,” she says. “Powell is waiting for you. There’s work to be done.”

  And smiling, she and Frank sweep out through the door and into the sunny May morning.

  Dom turns to follow the new couple out the door, but I hold up a hand. “Wait a sec—I’ve got something for my uncle.”

  I reach behind the desk and grab my almost-empty daypack. From the back section, I pull out the copy of Verne’s book that he handed me a whole lifetime ago. “Here’s your book, safe and sound,” I say, unwrapping it from Ganesh’s waterproof cloth.

  The cover is a little more battered than it was when he gave it to me, but all things considered, it’s still in pretty good shape.

  “I’ve tucked pictures of all the stops we made inside,” I say, flipping open the back cover to show him the collection. “And now that it’s actually been around the world, maybe it’s worth even more?”

  “The extra wear on the cover doesn’t help,” sniffs Tommy, but Merv snatches the book up.

  “Are you crazy?” he says. “This is going on display in the front window. Your trip saved our shop, Romy! The book needs to go in a place of honor.”

  To my utter shock, Tommy actually cracks a smile. “Well. I did notice our Instagram account just hit three hundred followers. So, I guess you were right all along, Ms. Social Media Queen.”

  I lock eyes with Dominic, who grins and doesn’t say a word.

  Once I promise Merv that I’ll always be there when he needs me, I kiss his cheek and follow Dom out the door. He pauses outside the front window, watching Tommy clear space for Verne’s book in his featured display.

  “Did you get things sorted with your mom?” I ask, and he nods.

  “She’s—ah—maybe not as forgiving as Teresa. He’s going to have to find another housekeeper. Once she’s feeling better, she’s going to set up the daycare full time.” He holds up the paper bag. “These are from her. She wanted to deliver them in person, but I told her we had to go to work.”

  Inside the bookshop window, Tommy blows up an inflatable globe.

  I unfurl the bag, and breathe in the scent of chocolate chip cookies. But before I can take one, Dom reaches out and wraps his arms around me.

  “You did it,” he says softly. “You made it all the way around the world, and in way less than eighty days too. Can you believe it?”

  “We did it,” I correct him. “Don’t pretend this wasn’t a team effort. I would never have made it out of Suez if you hadn’t booked us on that helicopter.”

  He snorts. “Spending all our money in the process. We were lucky Teresa was on our side.”

  I cuddle deeper into his arms. “I was lucky the whole way round. I mean, I was supposed to be racing you to the finish, but I kept getting distracted. African refugees, the First Nations protests in Canada, even the fight for the whales . . . Not exactly great at staying on task.”

  He squeezes me gently. “You seemed pretty focused to me. And that stuff was important. What we learned—who we met. I mean—can you imagine not knowing Sumaya?”

  I grin up at him. “Nope. But that’s what I mean. I feel so lucky to have met her. To be a part of her life.”

  A laugh rumbles in his chest. “I feel lucky we survived that plane ride.”

  “Me too. And all the helicopters, and ships, and trains . . .”

  “Don’t forget that rik in Kolkata.”

  “What about the cable car over the Alps?”

  “Now, see, I missed that one.” He gives
my shoulders another little squeeze. “I took a balloon instead.”

  The memory of a rainbow-colored balloon, bobbing once above the gondola in Italy, makes me laugh out loud.

  He grins back at me. “Look, you’ve even won over Tommy. Which means there’s nothing you can’t do.”

  “Oh, don’t fool yourself. There’s lots I can’t do. But at least I learned I can tolerate a little chaos, now and again.”

  Inside the window, Tommy leans Verne’s book against the inflated globe.

  Dom is quiet a moment, and the warmth of his breath is in my hair.

  “Okay. But here’s a question for you. Was it worth it? You’ve come home empty-handed, and exhausted, and . . .”

  “With three new stitches I didn’t have before.”

  I can feel his laugh through my back. “Okay, besides the stitches. Do you regret any of it?”

  I turn and bury my face in his chest, breathing in the warm, delicious scent of him. “Not for a single second,” I say, and the kiss he gives me then proves me to be completely correct.

  Behind us, there’s a sharp, disapproving knock on the window.

  Dom jumps so guiltily, I laugh out loud. “See? There are some things even a Social Media Queen can’t get away with.”

  Reaching into the bag to collect a cookie, I give Tommy a jaunty wave, and then take Dom’s hand again.

  It’s time to get back to work.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Eighty Days to Elsewhere is my eighth published novel—the twelfth that I have written—but never, NEVER, have I had more of an adventure in putting pen to paper. Or fingertips to keys, for that matter. I love to travel, but the truth is, I am most often to be found at home in the woods, surrounded by dogs and rain and copious quantities of strong tea. But for seven weeks last year, I set out on a research quest that took me, quite literally, around the world.

  I blame you, dear reader, for all that followed. To make sure I got the details right, I crawled backwards through a muddy hole in the floor of a railroad tunnel, ancient passages deep under the ground in Paris. I rode a cable car up the world’s highest vertical ascent, soaring through the thin air and indigo skies above the Alps. I dodged traffic like I’ve never seen on the streets of Mumbai during an Indian heatwave. I toured a North Korean spy ship in Yokohama and the earth trembled beneath me as I sat in an airport in Tokyo. I scaled outdoor escalators in Hong Kong, idly reading street posters that decried the “repatriation” of activists; a situation that would explode into fiery protests the day I left the city. I visited Fogg’s Reform Club in London and libraries and independent bookshops in every city from New York to Singapore. I managed to acquire poison oak in Hong Kong, had my pocket picked in Paris, was pummeled by mammoth hailstones in Milan, and tasted monsoon rains in both Singapore and India. I walked the Rainbow Bridge across the Niagara gorge, hung out with Patience and Virtue at the public library in New York, and watched Hamilton on Broadway. I flew around the entire globe, and every place I went, I was met with kindness.

  My goal was to take you with me—to bring the dusty whiff of drought and the tang of sea salt and the gasp of not quite enough oxygen in the cold, still air—to anyone who might open the pages of this book. But as it did with Romy, this research brought transformation to me too. Travel changes a person. No matter how closed the mind is upon departure, it is forced open when faced with the shocking contrasts and terrible beauties of this earth. Every traveller discovers both how vast and how tiny our planet is, and the reminder that good people are the same, world over, is an excellent lesson to learn.

  And so, I must thank the people who helped me, and thus Romy, make our frantic—and fantastic—way around the world. I am lucky enough to have the friendship and support of some absolutely wonderful writers, and I owe them all a tremendous debt of gratitude. There is not enough chocolate in the world to thank the lovely Hallie Ephron for the inspiration that ultimately led to this book. Thanks, too, to my dear friend and writing partner, Kathy Chung, who makes me laugh, and will cry with me or hold my hand whenever I need it. Thanks to both Pamela Patchet and Tyner Gillies for their undying love and support; proof that friendship doesn’t see distance. Much love and appreciation goes to the brilliant Diana Gabaldon for her warm heart, generosity of spirit, and good advice. Thanks also to that quintessential Jekyll & Hyde of writers Michael Slade, whose ostensibly evil exterior masks the big-hearted Jay Clarke, regularly cheering me on and offering advice in equally enthusiastic measure. Special bisous to Laura Bradbury for her unending enthusiasm, support, and translation help. Thanks also to Mahtab Narsimhan, for fantastic feedback (and food!), and sharing her friendships with me on the other side of the world.

  Thanks to Lee, James, Rob, Sarah, Rick, and all the Scoobies, big and little, for friendship and for always bringing the crazy. As ever, to my whole SiWC family—your support means more than I can say. And while I was gone, Magdalena Koryzna kept my canine boys fed and the home fires burning—dziękuję bardzo, my friend.

  * * *

  —

  Across the globe, my gratitude goes out to Khursheed Kanga for not only touring me through the streets of Mumbai, but ensuring I was optimally fed and housed. Thanks also to Karen Vaz for feeding me perhaps the best meal of my journey, in a little spot near her office in Mumbai. I am grateful to Helen Wang for her guidance in Hong Kong, and without whom I would never have stumbled upon the incredible villain-beaters, and to Su-In Kuah for tips on navigating the many faces of Singapore. Merci beaucoup to the king of the Parisian underworld, Gilles Thomas, for touring me deep under the ground in Paris, and successfully dissuading the cataflics, when they came to arrest us. (If you want to learn more of the depths beneath that city, Gilles’s book Atlas du Paris souterrain is the definitive work.)

  Thanks also to my amazing literary support crew—my super-agent Laura Bradford (and her team at Bradford Literary) with whom all things are possible, and to Taryn Fagerness for her support of Romy’s story overseas. Thanks also to the incredible Cindy Hwang and her team at Berkley, including Angela Kim, Scott Jones, and Stacy Edwards. Peter and Alicia, and Mim and Jürgen, thank you for your patience (and worry!). You will always have my heart.

  Finally, I’d like to send out my deepest appreciation to you, dear reader, for buying this book, or borrowing it from the library. Thank you for sharing this journey with Romy and Dominic and Sumaya and their friends.

  This story is fiction, but because it is set on a planet we all share, I want to remind you that any mistakes herein are entirely my own. Of course, if you point them out to me, I may have to go on another research trip.

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  1. Eighty Days to Elsewhere is a story about a journey—around the world, yes, but also a journey of the heart. In this adventure, Romy sees the world for the first time outside the pages of the books she has read, so everything feels brand new to her. Have you traveled to another country? What was the biggest cultural difference you experienced?

  2. Romy’s first impressions of Dominic harden her heart against him, even when his behavior shows him to be a better person than she believes. Have you ever had a terrible first impression of someone, only to end up close to them?

  3. With all her years of education, and her obvious abilities, why do you think Romy is still working at the Two Old Queens bookshop? Just like in this story, sometimes taking the easy, comfortable choice is no longer an option in the real world. Have you ever been forced to step up and make a difficult life choice?

  4. Romy has a strong support group at home, with her uncles, her friend Jersey, and even the librarians at the New York Public Library are available to offer support when she needs it. But when she takes on the ExLibris challenge, all that changes, and she is on her own for the first time in her life. Have you ever faced a challenge alone, without the support of family or friend
s around you? What advice would you give Romy when she steps on board the ship that will take her away from New York for the first time?

  5. What possible circumstances could compel you out of your comfort zone at home? Do you think you would be able to go on a journey like Romy’s, with limited finances and options for transportation?

  6. Does Dominic’s motivation change over the course of the challenge? Do his priorities change, or is he just able to find a compromise that works?

  7. Both Romy and Dom encounter unexpected adventures and a huge learning curve about their own planet in their race around the world. Meeting Sumaya shows Romy that the world is both much larger and much smaller than she ever expected. How does the interaction with this Somali teenager change Romy? And how does it change the tenor of the competition between Romy and Dom?

  8. Romy has a definite worldview before she sets out on her journey. Did you find yourself judging her because of her choices? As the story progresses, Romy begins to question herself on some of her first-world values. Has travel ever changed your worldview?

  9. Compare Romy and Dom’s reactions to the encounter with fellow American travelers on a train in Hong Kong. How are Romy’s own perceptions changed by traveling with Dom and Sumaya?

  10. When Romy first departs, she takes her old suitcase along as sort of a talisman. As the journey progresses, what she puts into the suitcase, and the value of the case itself begin to take on a heightened importance. Why is this particular object so significant to Romy? How does her inadvertent arrival in Alaska bring Romy’s past and future both into sharper focus?

  11. If you had a chance to press pause in the frantic pace of this journey, would you have liked Romy to linger longer in Paris—or perhaps Eritrea, or Japan? Is there some other part of the world you would like to see more thoroughly through Romy’s eyes—or your own?

  12. If ExLibris was setting up a literary expedition for you, which book would you choose? What adventure would you most love to reenact for yourself?