Chapter 1 #2
Leo was magic. Nearly every article written about the store was centered on Leo’s presence in every inch of it.
He made you feel like there was a spotlight shining directly on you, even if you were a total stranger.
When he spoke to you, you instinctively leaned forward as if every word was dipped in gold.
He liked to tell the same stories over and over again but somehow made them feel brand new.
Because of him, it was impossible not to fall in love with The Last Page.
And I fell in love from the very first time I set foot in the door.
Before my siblings were born, my mom took me here every week for storytime on the kids’ floor. All the kids would listen in awe as Leo mimicked the voices and made the words dance off the page.
Afterward, my mom would let me buy one book, and that first time, I just couldn’t decide. I sat down in the middle of one of the aisles upstairs, a couple of books splayed out in front of me.
“Hijita, we’ll come back next week and you can get whatever you don’t choose. Just pick one,” my mom had urged, growing impatient.
“They might not be here next week,” I had argued, flipping through each one. “Someone else could buy them!”
Leo wandered past our aisle. Even back then, he seemed a little old. His white hair was nearly all gone, his voice low and sometimes croaky. He glanced between the books and me, then nodded in understanding. He pointed at a spot on the floor next to me and said, “Mind if I join you?”
“Don’t sit on the books!” I warned.
“I’d never dream of it,” he replied as he slowly lowered himself next to me. “Tough decision, huh?”
“She’s worried someone’s going to buy whichever one she doesn’t pick,” my mom explained.
Leo nodded again, his tongue clicking. “There is a real danger of that in bookstores.”
“They all just look so good,” I murmured.
“Well, you seem like you’re a strong reader. Am I right about that?”
I met his gaze and nodded. “Ask my mamí. I can read three books a week.”
His eyebrows raised, his jaw dropping. “No way. I can’t even do that. Well, how about this? If you promise me that you finish whichever book you buy by the time you come back, I’ll hide these books for you.”
My eyes widened. “You can do that?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “I own the store, I can do whatever I want.”
The Last Page wasn’t just a bookstore, and that was because of Leo.
I grew up here, in a way. My first kiss was in the women’s health section, right next to a graphic gynecological book on display.
And that same boyfriend broke up with me three months later in the comedy section, next to Tina Fey’s Bossypants.
I submitted my college applications on the computers at main info.
When I was shelving in Fashion, I got the call that my mom had gone into labor with my little brother, Carlos.
My history was intertwined into the shelves, stuffed into the pages of used books.
And Leo had been there for all of it.
But now he was gone. He had been getting older and it wasn’t as easy to work in the store for him like it once was, but I’d never been able to confront the reality that the day would actually come.
We had a memorial here and everyone had some memory to share about Leo, but I was waging wars with the world—torn between wanting to cry or scream.
Instead, I stitched myself together and stepped into Leo’s shoes.
Without Leo here, the store felt empty. I was stuck walking around in the shadows of the past, desperate to go back in time.
Later in the afternoon, I stopped at the kids’ desk.
Each manager worked on every floor, but Julie preferred the second floor, where the children’s books were shelved, like Leo had.
It was where so many had fallen in love with reading.
Leo’s office had been on this floor because he’d never wanted to miss the opportunity to recommend the perfect book to a young reader.
Julie was sorting some books for shelving when I approached her.
She looked up at me with a wince. “I heard about the Bill Clinton debacle.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Joey came up here during his fifteen and said Bill was on the verge of tears.”
I laughed. “Since when do we trust Joey as a source?” I paused. “Did you know about Stewart—”
“I walked in on them in Espionage and I was sworn to secrecy,” she said quickly. “I would’ve told you, but Joey caught me buying a sexy male modeling book and threatened to tell everyone.”
“Tell me that their clothes stayed on and it was after closing.” When Julie hesitated, I groaned. “Okay, I don’t want to know more. But I’m taking Stewart out of Espionage.”
Julie laughed. “Fair enough. I’m taking my fifteen soon if you want to join?”
Julie and I met a few years ago when she was hired on as a manager.
She had just graduated from NYU and was looking to land on her feet, and we hit it off immediately.
That first day, we worked the registers together and couldn’t stop talking about our favorite YA books.
We’d grown up in the dystopian romance era with books like The Selection and Shatter Me.
Julie was from the Bronx and considered herself a connoisseur of bars and happy hours in New York.
That first night, we went to Roey’s for drinks and I knew we’d be friends for a long time.
We bonded over our mutual love of weird music (we were two of the five monthly listeners of Mechanical Peaches) and a strong glass of white wine.
Julie felt like the sister I’d never gotten to grow up with.
I loved my actual little sister, but because of our age gap, I was more like a mother to her.
Julie had dreams of becoming a wedding planner. She had read every single book in the small wedding planning section on the second floor. This job was supposed to pass the time while she tried to score an apprenticeship, but luck hadn’t struck just yet.
“I’ve got some stuff to take care of in Leo’s office,” I told her. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Leo’s office was sea blue with a stack of books a mile high on his desk, and other stacks strewn around the room. Often if there was a book missing out in the store, you could find it tucked away in here.
My gaze caught on the pictures hanging on the wall, swallowing away the lump in my throat that formed whenever I saw Leo’s picture these days.
There was one of the opening day, Leo standing proudly with his arm wrapped around his wife in front of the store with a banner that read “Grand Opening.” Another of him, his son, and his grandson, standing behind Leo’s info desk on the main floor.
One day, a few years ago, we were eating lunch in his office when I first noticed that picture and I asked, “Where are they now?”
“My son passed away when you were little,” Leo had said. He was sitting at his desk, tossing chips into his mouth while reading. It didn’t matter if Leo was talking or watching TV, he could always focus on his books. “And then my grandson moved away with his mother. To Tennessee.”
I frowned. “I haven’t seen them around before. Do they not come to the store when they visit?”
He shook his head. “They don’t visit.”
My jaw had dropped. “At all?”
He looked up from his book, a rarity from Leo. The last time I had seen him do it was when someone told him Cormac McCarthy was releasing a new book.
“He did for a while until he was in high school. It was during the summer, often while you were away with your family in Peru. My son was supposed to take over the store and it felt natural that my grandson would as well.”
“Supposed to?”
He closed his book, which I’d never seen him do before. I sat up, intrigued.
“Ella, why do you think I taught you about the payroll?”
“Because you’re lonely and have no one to talk to?” He rolled his eyes and threw one of his chips at me. “Kidding, kidding. I don’t know. I’m guessing that after I get my degree, you’ll want me to become a manager.”
He shook his head. “I want you to be the owner.”
I started choking on my own spit. I was coughing so badly Leo had to stand up and pat me on the back.
I’d never broached this subject with Leo, even though I’d often daydreamed about it. But when I did, my stomach would churn because it’d mean a store without Leo. And that wasn’t a store I wanted to be in.
“What happened with my grandson is a long story, Ella. For another day. And this is a big ask, I know. But you’re my family. That’s why your pictures are on the wall, too.”
He pointed at an older picture of us. We had decided to build a display for Banned Book Week and got red paint all over us. Leo thought it looked like blood and made us pose like we were dead on the floor.
“When I retire or when I’m gone, I want you to be on the floor recommending books and sitting up here behind my desk to keep the store afloat.”
He must’ve read the panic on my face because he laughed, rubbing my shoulder.
“You’ve got years to learn, kid. I’ll show you everything. And if you don’t want to—”
“I want to,” I blurted out. “I want nothing else. You know that.”
He had smiled and said, “I know. And you’ll be great.”
The Last Page was an extension of my childhood home. But in the last year or so, even before Leo died, sales had dwindled. With Leo gone, I’d have to put in extra effort to bring those sales back up. Because I was going to be the owner of The Last Page, and it’d never close on my watch.