Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Ella
“No matter how old I am, Matilda will always be a favorite of mine. Dahl captured the magic of literature, which is exactly what I try to create in the store. Every booklover should pick up Roald Dahl’s classic.”
—Leo’s Staff Pick
There was a certain magic that accompanied bookstores. They were a portal to a completely different world, where everyone cared about the same thing: books. Cocooned in the warm stacks were characters that you knew as intimately as family. Worlds you felt like you were standing in the middle of.
I happened to believe there was an extra bit of magic at The Last Page.
Not that I was biased or anything.
Most people seemed to think working at a bookstore was like a scene out of Beauty and the Beast. With three floors of ceiling-high bookshelves, ladders leaning against them, it was understandable that customers assumed booksellers were cosplaying Belle during their eight-hour shifts.
But I don’t think Belle ever had to plunge the customer toilet at nine in the morning.
I was wearing three face masks, four pairs of gloves, and a pair of random sunglasses I’d found in the store’s lost and found. If you’ve ever set foot in a New York City public bathroom, then you’d know this was more than necessary.
My arms were sore as I repeatedly pushed the plunger with my eyes squeezed shut until finally I was able to unclog it, gagging as I did so. After, I washed my hands for two solid minutes and found Julie waiting for me at the children’s info desk.
She winced when she saw my attire. “Good work, soldier.”
“First mission as the new owner: hire someone to clean the bathrooms.” I ripped my face masks off and said, “Or I’ll make Joey do it next time he sneaks away from shelving World History.”
Julie laughed, pushing her curly light brown hair behind her ears. Ever since we met, I’d been envious of the tight curls that lay against her shoulders. She could easily pull it into a messy bun or let it loose, untamed and gorgeous.
She swung her legs back and forth from atop the info desk as I reached past her for the hand sanitizer (still don’t think I was being overcautious). “I think that would be the day Joey quits. Besides, it wasn’t even Joey that closed the second floor yesterday.”
“Who did?”
“Jack.”
I scowled. “Of course it was Jack. He’s up next to clean the bathrooms. And the floors. With a toothbrush!”
As chatter drifted up the stairs, I glanced at the time displayed on the computer. “Shoot, I gotta run the morning meeting. You’re up here today, that okay?”
Julie straightened, raising a hand to her head. “Aye aye, captain.”
I rushed downstairs to find the rest of the booksellers waiting for me by the main info desk.
There were a lot of rumors about what it took to be a bookseller at The Last Page. A few years ago, BuzzFeed wrote an article claiming we put booksellers through two literature tests just to make sure they were up to snuff.
But the only real requirement? Must love books.
We had booksellers ranging from comic book aficionados (Alice) to cookbook experts (David). There was no judgment in genre, so long as your favorite thing was reading.
They were an eclectic bunch, varying in background, age, and interests. Somehow the different puzzle pieces clicked … even if it was painful at times.
“Dude,” I said to Jack as I approached the group. “You didn’t unclog the toilet on the second floor.”
Jack was standing behind the info desk, flipping through a book. He didn’t even look up as he said, “No one told me to look at the bathrooms.”
“It’s on the closing sheet,” I said, annoyed. “The one you signed and turned in to Julie last night. The one you’ve filled out every closing shift for the past thirty years of your life.”
“Huh, must’ve missed it.”
“Well, I’ll make sure you catch the next one,” I said sweetly.
The rest of the staff laughed, but per usual, Jack only rolled his eyes.
He was one of the oldest booksellers here and flipped between ennui and grumpy.
He pretended he was too good for this job, but whenever he acted out, all it took was a warning from Leo to have him begging to stay.
I turned to face the rest of the group. “No announcements for today. Events are still closed until we can get our feet back under us, so no need to look out for any attendees or authors today. Schedule is pretty much the same with some minor shifts. After we take the clearance carts out, let’s focus on shelving in Fiction before the store opens, yeah? ”
I smiled brightly at the group as I grabbed the clipboard with the schedule from the main info desk. But as I did, Joey’s hand shot up.
“I have a question,” he announced.
“Ameerah, you’re shelving in Romance,” I said, ignoring him, my smile straining a bit.
“Have the lawyers contacted you?”
“Lyle, you’re shelving in History,” I continued. “And the carts are overflowing a bit there, too. If you could shift Italian History—”
“Should we be concerned?” Joey pressed.
When I glanced up, all the booksellers stared back at me expectantly. I sighed, knowing there’d be hell to pay if Joey didn’t get his answers. Honestly, everyone else was probably just as anxious as him.
“I promise you all will be the first to know if I hear anything from Leo’s lawyer, but … nothing yet.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little strange?” Mina asked quietly. Concern was etched in her voice and guilt rang through me.
In the three months since Leo had died, there had been a lot of concern over the fate of the store.
I hated the tense cloud hanging over us all.
Even though Leo told me The Last Page would be mine one day, I had to wait on the lawyers to confirm it all.
It was difficult to be patient when it felt a little bit like everyone’s livelihood was sort of in my control but also just out of my reach.
“I know it’s been a hard few months for everyone,” I said lightly. “But I have full confidence that everything will be fine, okay? We just have to run the store like normal until we know more.”
“What if he left someone else the store?” Joey cried. “Some rich billionaire who’ll change everything about it?”
“You know you don’t have to say rich billionaire,” Stewart said. “It’s redundant.”
“You’re redundant, Stewart,” Joey snapped. “No one likes the grammar police.”
“I kind of like them,” Ameerah piped up. “That way your grammar is always improving.”
“You’re welcome,” Stewart replied.
“What if they take away the stools?” Mabel said, her eyes wide.
Joey clutched Ameerah’s arm. “What if they take away the birthday cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery?”
They began panicking, turning to each other with their concerns. Joey was batting his eyelashes, as if he was seconds away from crying.
“I’ll miss our hour-long lunches,” Joey whined.
“Stop fearmongering,” Stewart said.
“Stop using buzzwords,” Joey said, sobering up, shooting a glare his way.
“Did Stewart and Joey stop hooking up?” Sarah said to me quietly. “They don’t usually flirt like this.”
I furrowed my brow. “I didn’t even know they were hooking up. I thought they didn’t like each other.”
Sarah shrugged. “They’re always making out in the Espionage section downstairs.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Stewart had told me that teenagers were making out in Espionage so he’d keep an eye on it. For the past six months, he’s been insistent on manning that section. Ever since Joey broke up with his partner.
“Okay, enough!” I called out. “Everything is going to be fine. You know why? Because we have each other and we’ll be fine!
If someone comes in and wants to make all of these changes, there are more of us than there are of them.
But I’m not worried about that because I’ll get the email from the lawyer, and everything will be fine, okay? ”
It was quiet for a moment before Jack looked up from his book and said, “Is anyone concerned about the number of times she said ‘fine’?”
Everyone nodded, continuing to murmur. I sighed, tossing the clipboard with the schedule onto the info desk.
“You all can read your assignments on your own.”
There were no ordinary days at The Last Page, just like there were no ordinary days in New York City. Some days were incredibly boring, with tumbleweeds passing through the sales floor, but sometimes we were chock-full of customers. The only thing predictable about the store was a busy weekend.
This morning a naked man ran through the main floor of the store, screaming lyrics to a song no one could decipher.
(Personally, I thought I heard the tune of “American Pie,” but Noah thought it was the national anthem.) Some tourists left the store immediately, but the New Yorkers continued to browse, completely unbothered.
Noah tried to catch him, but he couldn’t keep up.
Then Joey and David unsuccessfully tried to trap him in between the stacks.
He continued to streak around until finally he got bored and moved on to one of the stores across the street.
Then, later in the afternoon, Bill Clinton came into the store with the Secret Service.
We usually tried not to make a big deal about celebrities so they’d want to return, but people flocked to the former president, asking for pictures and selfies.
Mabel and I stood at main info together and watched as he sifted through American History.
Lyle, who was shelving there, claimed that when Bill only saw books about Hillary and none about him, he left in a huff.
If Leo had been here, he’d have gone up to his office and pulled a book about Bill from one of his personal stacks and brought it down to him. Or he’d have been able to reason with the naked guy and convince him to leave the store.