Chapter Sixty-One
Sixty-One
Hunter spent her first morning back in town helping Duke finish packing up the office.
“Can you put all the copies of the Cape Cod murder mystery series in one box? I’m going to send them to the author. That other box—of the poetry? That’s for donation to the library.”
He sat at his desk, feeding documents into a shredder.
Ironically, now that he was shutting down shop, she respected Duke more than ever. He created his own business; he was his own boss. He discovered fiction that he loved and was getting it out into the world. And when he felt he couldn’t do that in a way that served the art, he stepped back. That was why she wanted his advice.
“I was offered a job at a literary agency,” she said. She told him about Paragon, and the authors Raj Mason worked with, and that she knew she’d learn a lot but still hesitated.
“What’s stopping you?” he said, pausing to give them a merciful break from the shrill grinding of the shredder. He switched to instead filling a cardboard box with books.
“I’m nervous about waiting years to represent my own authors. I know I have things to learn, but I know I’m going to be impatient. It’s going to be frustrating.”
“I think once you get started you’ll be too busy to be frustrated. You’ll see him pitch editors, you’ll learn how to negotiate contracts, and with his roster, you’ll read the highest quality fiction. And—no offense—it’s not like you need to worry about your salary.”
“It’s not the money,” she said. It wasn’t even about the entry-level work. It was fear. Always fear. “I don’t want to fail.”
Duke put down the books in his arms. “Fail? You won’t fail. In fact, I bet you can get a running start by bringing a new author to the agency.”
“It doesn’t work that way. They don’t want me representing anyone yet. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you.”
“That’s a shame,” Duke said. “Because I know of a bestselling author looking for new representation.” He went back to shredding.
She shook her head and resumed loading the book boxes. Then she stopped.
Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting?
“Duke, that’s impossible.”
His doorbell rang.
“Heavens!” he said. “I completely forgot: I’m hosting the Community Trust meeting. Hunter, I know you’re practically a literary agent already, but can you do me a tiny favor and run out to fetch some cupcakes?”
Duke’s back porch was big enough to host the group that included Bert Lombardo, town selectman, Gene Hobart, the owner of one of the art galleries, and a few people she didn’t recognize. They spread out on cushioned patio furniture, facing the lawn where Shelby hosted Anders’s book event. It seemed like that happened during an entirely different summer.
When everyone was settled, Duke served iced tea with mint from his garden. Shelby and Justin stood facing them, their backs to the lawn. They’d decided he’d make the introduction, then she’d speak briefly on behalf of Land’s End, and then Duke would conduct the vote. Pam and Annie had helped them pull together a package about the store’s financials. The numbers seemed to make sense, but the deciding factor was whether or not Land’s End was essential to the people of Provincetown. Justin said it might take a day or two for the committee to decide.
“Thanks, everyone, for showing up on short notice,” Justin said. “This is a time-sensitive issue so we appreciate it. As you know, we’re here to decide whether or not to take the funds raised for the wharf building and reallocate them to buy Land’s End Books. Land’s End has been a part of Provincetown—and the Miller family—for eighty years, and if this plan is approved, it will continue with Colleen running the shop. Shelby Archer, who took time away from her book tour this summer to run the store in Colleen’s absence, wants to say a few words.”
He turned to Shelby, and she had to avoid his eyes to keep her focus. She didn’t regret sleeping with him again, but it complicated everything. Still, she was grateful they could end the summer on such a positive note: doing something together for the good of the town. It felt like a little gift from the universe, a way to move on to the next chapter of her life with peace of mind.
“Thanks for coming, everyone.” She glanced at the notes on her phone, then at Duke. He offered an encouraging smile. “A wise friend once told me that this is a special place. And that if we want to hold on to it, we need to give more than we take. I hope that you’ll keep that in mind when making your decision about the bookstore today.”
The back door leading to the porch opened, and Mia walked out, looking around and finding a seat near her father. It distracted Shelby, just long enough to remind her that even if Mia still felt betrayed, she was getting the help she needed. And then she thought, I was her age when I met Hunter. A year older when I started working at Land’s End .
“I started working at Land’s End when I was a teenager,” Shelby said. “The bookstore gave me a job for four summers—five if you include this one. When I wasn’t even looking for a job.” Someone gave a little laugh. Probably Duke. “Three years ago, Colleen and I stood in that store, surrounded by books, talking about our futures. All Colleen wanted was to continue the bookstore that her great-grandparents had started. I had no doubt that she would succeed, that Land’s End would always be here. I’m sure everyone here believed that.”
Shelby put her phone down by her side. She didn’t need it anymore. “But things are changing. A lot’s changing. Some of it is out of our control, or up to conservationists and scientists to preserve. But Land’s End is something that can be saved by the people sitting right here, today. I hope you’ll agree that it’s worth whatever work and sacrifice it takes to make that happen.”
Duke clapped first, and loudest. Shelby felt a flash of embarrassment, though she knew she shouldn’t. She’d said what she wanted to say. What she’d needed to say.
Still, she didn’t want to hear the group debate the pros and cons of buying the bookshop.
She made a discreet exit back into the house, where she headed straight for the kitchen. Shelby set her phone down on the counter near a few boxes from Scott Cakes, then opened the refrigerator for something cold to drink.
“Hey.”
She turned around. Mia stood in the doorway. She wore a floral print dress and white Birkenstocks. Her ubiquitous headphones were gone.
“Hey,” Shelby said, closing the fridge. “Good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” She started to say something else, then stopped.
Shelby walked closer. “Mia, I’ve wanted to talk to you. I only told your brother about your problems with reading because I truly believed it would make you happier in the long run. The one thing I’m sorry about is that I had to betray your confidence to do it.”
Mia nodded. She looked down at the floor, then up at her. “I’m glad you’re trying to save the bookstore.”
“Me, too.”
“If it reopens, are you gonna stick around?” Mia said.
“I can’t. But Colleen will find someone to manage the store until she’s back on her feet. And I’m sure she’ll need a lot of help if you know anyone who’s interested in working part-time.”
Mia smiled.
“Can we be friends again?” Shelby said. Mia nodded.
Her phone buzzed, a particularly loud vibration against the countertop. She wondered if the vote was done that quickly. Duke had warned her it could take a lot of discussion.
“These meetings are rarely efficient,” he’d said.
The text wasn’t from Duke. It was from Doug: Colleen in emergency C-section. She’s okay.
Shelby gasped, and pressed the phone to her chest.
“Mia... I have to go. But we’ll talk more, okay?”
Heart pounding, she rushed back to the porch. Hunter was standing up; from the look on her face, she’d gotten the same message.
I’ll drive , Hunter mouthed.
Shelby nodded. Let’s go.