Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Shelby met publisher Max Walder outside Liz’s Café on Bradford Street. He was a slender Black man who bore a strong resemblance to the actor Stanley Tucci. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and carried a spiral notebook and had a brown leather man-purse strapped across his torso.
“Great to meet you,” Shelby said. “I’m a big fan of your books.”
The host seated them outside at a table for two, and they arrived just in time because minutes later a line formed at the front door. Max pulled sunglasses from his bag and perused the menu.
“I haven’t eaten here since last summer,” Max said, then looked up, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her face. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”
“We haven’t met. But I’m a novelist. I’m just helping out at the store temporarily.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s how I recognize you. I saw your photo in Publishers Weekly . They featured your book in their Must-Have Beach Bag Books list. That’s you, right?”
Shelby shifted in her seat. “That’s me. But today—bookseller.”
Max ran through a short list of titles he guaranteed were “absolutely made for the Ptown readership,” and then a few that he said were a “stretch, but worth a copy or two just to broaden your offerings.” Shelby took notes, then wondered how many of their titles the store had ordered for the summer.
“Do you have anything publishing in July or August I should know about? Just in case for some reason Colleen missed it?” She doubted Colleen had missed anything, but wondered if there was an author or two she could somehow convince to stop by the store if they were on book tour.
“I know Colleen ordered Harvest Town by Jessup Crane and Plow by Daryna Anichka — July and August respectively.”
“Would they visit Land’s End?”
“I’ll put you in touch with our publicist.”
“Thank you. I’m trying to expand our event schedule.”
Max snapped his fingers. “Where is my head? Anders Fleming is teaching here this summer. Just a thought...”
Anders Fleming was a Booker Prize–winning novelist. His last few books had published with Malaprop. It would be a coup to have him at the store. “I’d be honored to host him for an event. Could you ask him for me?”
“Does Land’s End have space for the crowd he’ll draw?”
“I’ll make sure it does,” Shelby said. Another reason to petition for beach use: if she didn’t get Anders Fleming on the calendar, it would just be a matter of time before Hendrik’s Books did.
“In that case, why don’t you join us sailing tomorrow? You can invite Anders to Land’s End yourself.”
She smiled. “I’d love that.”
“Excellent. Bring a friend if you’d like.”
The first person who came to mind was Duke. He loved to sail, and he loved to talk all things book publishing. Shelby felt hopeful. If she was able to do enough good that summer, no matter how small, it might make up for the very big thing she’d done wrong with her book.
Walking back to Land’s End, her phone rang with a call from her literary agency.
“Hey there,” Ezra said. “I saw on Instagram you’re back in Provincetown?”
“I am.” She remembered, for the first time, that he’d met a mystery lady. The morning they left Provincetown together, he’d mentioned that he met an “incredible” woman the night before, but that she didn’t want to see him again because she didn’t “do relationships.” That was all he would say about her.
“Have you heard from your hookup?”
“Not really,” he said. “She’s a woman of few words. And even fewer texts.”
“Sorry to hear that. How’s the city treating you?” she said.
“I’d say at this point it’s an abusive relationship,” he said. “But then, I’m used to that. Oh—here’s Claudia.”
“Hey, hey, superstar,” Claudia said. “I hear you’re back on the Cape.”
“Yes! I decided to spend the summer in Provincetown to finish my manuscript.”
“Love that for you,” Claudia said. “Just don’t forget you’re speaking at the Boston Arts Club the first week in August.”
Shelby hadn’t forgotten. The Boston Arts Club was one of the oldest art institutions in the country and she was honored to have been invited for their summer reading program.
Now that she had Claudia on the phone, she had an idea. “While I’m out here I’m helping my friend who owns the bookstore. Any of your authors coming to the Cape? I’m sure she’d love to have them swing by the bookstore to do a signing.” Shelby didn’t want to admit how very much she was helping with the bookstore. Claudia might think she wasn’t taking her deadline seriously when actually, the opposite was true. She was cranking.
She’d started rewriting her book the night she ran into Justin and Kate Hendrik. Once she had the idea about two competing bookstores, she couldn’t go back to her original plot idea. She scrapped it entirely, and began writing about a thirtysomething single woman who owns a bookshop. She called the character Emily, which was her own middle name. Emily was preparing for the big summer season when wham—she’s diagnosed with breast cancer. At the same time, a competing bookstore owned by a newcomer named Jackson opens shop. The storyline followed Emily and her friends as they rallied around her shop. Shelby was also playing around with a romance subplot between the two competing bookstore owners, but she wasn’t sure yet. The one thing she knew was that the words were pouring out of her. The story was flowing much more naturally than the one she’d been laboring over. It was a huge relief.
Now she just had to make sure the real-life bookstore stayed competitive.