19. Sam
Sam
Some bookstores were event hubs, frequently hosting authors on book tours and signings.
The events were usually free to the public, and the benefit was that you got foot traffic into the shop.
Some people would buy the featured author’s book, and others would pick up a copy of something they hadn’t known they’d wanted.
Lighthouse Books wasn’t an event-focused shop, since there were plenty of other bookstores between San Francisco and Silicon Valley that were in more population-dense cities.
Sam’s lighthouse was the kind of place visitors stopped by on a whim while driving along the Pacific Coast Highway.
It didn’t make sense to host a robust events calendar with that kind of clientele.
In fact, Sam had never intended to do any events at Lighthouse Books.
But it was Talia who had nudged him to venture out of his comfort zone of burrowing in his tower of tomes.
She’d encouraged him to actively invite more readers into his store, another one of her ways of reminding him to engage with the world.
The first event he’d hosted was a local writers’ group.
That had been a good way to start because it’d been relatively low effort—the group of four women and one older gentleman had just wanted a place to meet once a month where they could exchange critiques of each other’s manuscripts while drinking in inspiration, and the lighthouse’s round rooms did just that by surrounding them on all sides with books.
Now they came every first Wednesday of the month at 3 p.m. on the dot, and Sam and Kenneth looked forward to them brightening the store with their literary enthusiasm.
As for book tours, an author’s name would occasionally pop out to Sam from The Grid.
The Grid was an online database that the major publishers used to let stores know which authors they were sending on tour.
Bookstores could then “bid” to have authors visit their shop by submitting detailed proposals about how big an audience they could rally, what kind of marketing they would do to advertise the event, and an estimated number of the author’s books they thought they could sell that night.
So when Chloe Hanako Quinn’s name appeared on The Grid, Sam jumped.
Chloe Quinn had unintentionally created a global phenomenon a couple of years ago by writing uplifting messages inside yellow origami roses.
She had begun the project just wanting to spread some kindness around New York City, but it had turned out that the entire world was hungry for inspiration and connection, so the paper flowers had gone viral, with millions of people on every continent making their own and spreading joy.
Now she’d written a book called Tiny Kindnesses: How Your Small Actions Can Change Everything.
Sam had devoured an early copy sent by the publisher, then read it three more times since. In a culture focused on big stunts that could bring fame and fortune, Chloe Quinn’s message of finding purpose in the small, quieter things in life had really resonated with him.
He didn’t think he had a shot at being picked for the book tour.
But he and Talia had brainstormed for weeks to put together the best proposal possible, including hiring a local origami artist to lead a workshop as part of the event and bringing Kayla in to cater book-themed food.
He also pledged to donate a portion of the bookstore’s profits that day to a kids’ art program here on the coast. Sam had hoped that would appeal to the publisher, since Chloe Quinn herself had publicly announced that 100 percent of her own royalties would go to her nonprofit, the Paper Roses Foundation.
Yet, when Sam got the email that Lighthouse Books had been chosen as a stop on Chloe Quinn’s book tour, he’d had to read the message five times before he believed it, because he’d been in competition with all the other more well-known stores in the Bay Area.
Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg had made City Lights in San Francisco their bookstore home base.
Kepler’s Books in Menlo Park was renowned for their gorgeous, black wood stage built specifically for author events.
And Fireside Books was a beloved Redwood City shop that hosted more book tours per month than Lighthouse Books had in five years.
But the publisher had said that Chloe Quinn handpicked where she wanted to go, and she’d loved Sam’s generosity in offering to support his local children’s art program. Plus, she was tickled by the idea of visiting a lighthouse that had been converted into a bookstore.
Now, with only one day before the event, Sam couldn’t stop running around the store and up and down the stairs, trying to arrange all the little details.
Tomorrow, a party rentals company would bring folding tables and chairs for the origami workshop and Chloe Quinn’s talk and book signing.
But today, he had to make room for all that.
In stores more accustomed to holding events, many of their bookshelves would be on wheels, allowing the employees to move them aside temporarily and create a large, open space.
But the most common events at Lighthouse Books were local author signings, where the guest list was only a dozen or so, and a small card table next to the new-releases display would do.
That’s why the store was closed today, and Kenneth was emptying books from the shelves into boxes, and Sam was schlepping them one by one upstairs to the nonfiction level. The wheelless shelves were too heavy to move when fully loaded.
After hours of this, Sam declared a break.
Kenneth went out back to smoke a joint while watching the waves roll in.
(There was a weather-worn picnic bench on the cliff, just outside the boundaries of the lighthouse property and therefore not subject to any rules about drug use that the chamber of commerce might have for businesses.) Sam used the time to run upstairs to his apartment and wash off the sweat he’d worked up.
When he got out of the shower, there was a text from Talia.
Talia: How’s set-up going for your big event tomorrow? You ready?
Sam stretched out his back, which was already sore. When he was younger, he’d thought that aches and pains like this didn’t come on until you were in your sixties. What a rude awakening that thirty-five was the reality.
Sam: Kenneth and I just finished clearing the shelves in the middle of the floor. Now we have to move them against the walls, then decorate them so we don’t look like the worst bookstore ever with nothing but empty bookcases.
Talia: Can you imagine being an author and walking into your next tour stop, and there are NO books anywhere? haha
Sam: Also imagine being an author and there is no one in the audience.
Talia: Mortifying.
Sam: It happens, sadly. But not tomorrow, right??
Talia: Don’t worry, I invited basically all of Silicon Valley, and Erin confirmed the RSVPs a couple days ago. You know everyone in the Valley is on an eternal quest to become a better person.
Sam: I think they’re just addicted to self-help books.
Talia: haha… But also true.
Sam: I do believe that YOU want to be a better person. It’s why Ideal Life exists. Everyone else, though… They just want self-improvement to make more money.
Talia: So cynical.
Sam: I am the refreshing balance to your unfettered idealism.
Talia texted back a laugh-crying face. (They were millennials, which meant that unlike Gen Z, they were not too cool for emojis.)
Talia: Anyway, Mr. Cynic, I think your event is going to have great turnout. People love the idea that they can do something small and make a difference. If they didn’t, then Chloe Quinn’s story wouldn’t have been as impactful as it was.
Even though Talia couldn’t see him, he nodded, because she did have a good point.
Sam: Thanks, Tal. I couldn’t do this without you.
Talia: Sure you could. But I’m always here for you.
He wanted to ask her how everything else was going. But he also didn’t want to know about last night, because she’d told him about signing up for a singles mixer and that she planned to use her watch to maximize what she could get out of it.
He had hated the idea. Not just because she’d be flirting with men that weren’t him and maybe taking one home. Sam had accepted that Talia didn’t see him that way and probably never would.
But it was the way she was using the watch. While Talia had always been into life hacks in college and grad school and had her “Relentless pursuit of constructive criticism” motto, Ideal Life had kicked her desire to optimize the future into a whole new gear.
And now, the watch gave her the ability to apply that same aspiration to the past.
She thought it was making her life better, but Sam wasn’t so sure.
Is it really a perfect life if you have to obsess over every detail to make it so?