Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ella
“Event Planning Made Easy by Paulette Wolf is a lifesaver!”
—Joey’s Staff Pick
Life was full of trial and error. Sometimes taking a chance on someone you loved was a great idea. And sometimes promoting someone you loved and believed in was a mistake.
Despite my careful consideration, I had not accounted for Joey’s lack of planning.
We were hosting authors Rosie and Aiden Huntington, a married couple who co-wrote their books, for their sophomore novel.
I told Joey I wanted there to be plenty of hype since this was our first event since Leo’s passing.
We wanted to restart them ASAP, so we’d had about a week and a half to put it together.
Back when Leo was running the events, it was pretty streamlined. The second floor had its own event room, sectioned off from the sales floor, and there was a small greenroom for authors and moderators. They’d wait there for the event to start and sign stock.
Fairy lights hung low across the ceiling, old books stacked along the walls. There was a wall in the back, full of signed Polaroids of authors holding up their books. There were folding chairs set up in rows, with two leather chairs up front for the authors.
The greenroom wasn’t being used, so we had turned it into a storage unit. Joey was supposed to have cleaned it out in time for our authors’ arrival, but he’d either forgotten or didn’t care. I quickly moved all the boxes out of the way when I showed Rosie and Aiden upstairs, apologizing profusely.
I continued to give him the benefit of the doubt, hoping it was just a slight oversight and the rest of the evening would go smoothly.
That was not the case.
Joey set up the details for the event online, which was great.
He hung flyers around the store and neighborhood, trying to get a full house.
But Joey didn’t use Eventbrite. He met some guy at the Mulberry Street Library who claimed he was “techie” and used some obscure event website that Joey thought was so Y2K.
But the site glitched all the time and didn’t have a limit on how many tickets could be sold, so we were over capacity.
Joey was supposed to be in the greenroom going over the run of the show with them, but he was out in the event space, still setting up the chairs.
Henry was taking tickets at the door and passing out books to those who’d purchased one with their ticket.
So I ended up in the greenroom with the authors.
“I’m really sorry about this,” I said. “We’ve just started events back up and it’s a little rocky.”
“It’s totally fine,” Rosie said. They sat at the small wooden table, their chairs pressed closely to each other.
Aiden’s hand was intertwined with hers, resting in her lap.
He gave a single nod of agreement. “We’re just happy to do an event here.
Aiden used to come here all the time when he was little. ”
“My mom knew Leo,” he said, shrugging off his peacoat. “She loved this place.”
“I really appreciate your understanding. I’m going to check on everything out there, but we might need a bit more time. Really, let me know if you two need anything at all.”
I left them in the greenroom and when I stepped in the event room, my eyes widened.
“Holy shit,” I muttered. The room was packed. People were standing in the back, to the sides, and there was still a line.
Instead of folding chairs, there were cushions on the floor. Joey was still placing some down as audience members confusedly watched him.
“Joey,” I hissed. “What the hell is going on?”
Joey straightened with a lifted chin. “Ella, I know what I’m doing.”
“Look at the crowd. Where are the chairs?” I barked.
“We don’t need chairs—”
“Joey, I gave you a very detailed binder on exactly what to do—”
“Ella,” Joey interrupted, raising his voice a tad. “After I read the binder on Stewart and me, I could not be compelled to read the other one.”
“Why on Earth would we use cushions?” I seethed.
“You’re the one who said you wanted it to be fun and interesting,” he argued. “I’m going for a sleepover vibe a la Sabrina Carpenter’s—”
I held my hand up. “I do not want to hear it. Put the chairs up now, Joey.”
Joey begrudgingly began to lift the cushions, pouting. Henry must’ve called for backup because Noah and Stewart burst through the door and began unfolding the chairs.
Up at the front of the room, Mabel was tinkering with the audio and microphones. We had two chairs set up for the authors in the front of the room, with a microphone in each chair.
I watched as Mabel frowned at the microphone, speaking into it. When nothing came out through the speaker, she tried again, hitting it. She turned toward the chair and started to bang it against the arm of the chair and immediately it screeched through the room.
My eyes widened as I rushed toward her.
“Mabel, please don’t break the mic and everyone’s ears,” I said gently, taking it from her. “We can’t afford another mic, okay?”
“Well the fucking thing doesn’t work,” she muttered, snatching it back from me. She tapped it against her palm and the feedback sent through the room again. The audience grabbed their ears as Mabel smiled widely at me. “Fixed it!”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Why don’t I fix the other mic and you help with the chairs?”
Mabel gasped. “And break a hip? What’s more expensive, Ella? My hip surgery or a new mic?”
“Alright, alright, you can go back down—”
Before I could answer, Mabel was already walking out of the room.
“Hey, I don’t mean to stress you out.” Henry gently grabbed my elbow. “But we’re almost out of the book up front.”
I groaned. “You’re joking. How many more people are in line?”
Henry grimaced. “I think a lot of people are in line just because there’s a line, if that’s helpful.
Maybe if we close the doors, people will think it’s more exclusive.
Draw in people for the next event?” When I shook my head, Henry interrupted me.
“Let me rephrase. Any more people in this room, then it’s a fire hazard. ”
“Shut the door, then. Let’s just start the event, okay? I’ll go talk to the authors in a minute.”
Henry nodded, walking toward the long line of guests still trying to get in.
As I tested the other mic, I noticed Joey and Stewart were standing in the middle of a half row of chairs, arguing.
“You told me this time would be different. You specifically said relationship,” Joey snapped.
“I said situationship, Joseph,” Stewart snapped back, slamming down the chair he just unfolded.
“Oh my God, I told you to never say my full name—”
“Well, you don’t listen when I call you Joey—”
“You two,” I hissed. “Enough.”
“You said we can’t fight on the main floor,” Joey said, confused. “We’re on the second.”
“Let’s change it to the whole store then,” I said, my voice flat.
“You can’t tell us what to do during our break and lunch,” Stewart argued. “That violates our workers’ rights.”
“You can decree war anytime but right now,” I said, my voice low and strained. “Joey, we’re going to start the event. I need you to make the announcement.”
“No way,” Joey said, sharing a panicked look with Stewart. “I have stage fright.”
I stared at him incredulously. “I told you this was part of the job description. It was in the binder.”
“Well, I’m supposed to shelve books at close, but I don’t.”
I frowned. “You’re supposed to do that—Okay, never mind. You have to do it, Joey.”
“I can’t!”
“Doors are closed,” Henry said. He stepped into the half aisle of chairs and jumped into action, finishing the row. “Ready to start?”
“Why doesn’t Henry make the announcement?” Stewart argued. “He’s the new owner.”
“It’s times like these when you stand up for me that makes me think you have feelings for me,” Joey said quietly.
I huffed, turning my back toward them. “Are you okay to introduce them?”
Henry’s eyes widened. “Uh, I don’t know …”
“Stewart, go tell the authors we’re starting soon.” I turned my attention to Henry and gently tugged him out of the aisle as people started to file in. “You are the new owner. I can do it if you don’t want to. It really doesn’t matter.”
“No,” Henry said, gulping, tugging at his collar. “You’re right. Leo always did it, right? I can do it.”
I nodded and he stood there, staring at me silently.
“Are you going to?” I asked, looking between him and the microphones at the front.
“Like now?”
“Oh my God,” I said, growing frustrated. “I’ll do it.”
“No, no. I’ll go.”
He walked to the front and stared at the microphone for a second before snatching it up.
I don’t think Henry knew that he easily captured people’s attention.
That in a room, your eye naturally went to him.
Earlier, when I stood at the front of the room, no one cared.
And it wasn’t because he was handsome and broad and physically impossible to ignore.
It was the magnetic, terribly interesting aura he had.
A dash of nerdy and a gallon of humility.
All it took was Henry standing there for everyone to quiet down.
The crowd quieted, people filing into the seats quickly, or settling into spots in the back to stand. Henry spoke into the mic, but nothing came out.
“We can’t hear you,” someone called from the audience.
Henry’s entire face tinted red. He switched the mic on from the bottom and immediately, feedback came through the speaker again. The crowd winced and I swear Henry’s face somehow got redder.
“Uh, sorry about that, y’all,” he started. The low vibration of his voice paired with a deep Southern accent that warmed my body. I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the pit it created in my stomach, like I was free-falling.
“Welcome to our first event back here at The Last Page,” he said. “Emphasis on first, as some of you can tell.”
The crowd chuckled in response.
“We appreciate y’all being patient as we figure ourselves out here.
I’d like to introduce myself to you folks, if you don’t mind.
My name’s Henry Martin, Leo’s grandson. We’ve sure felt his absence in the store lately and are doing everything we can to restore it.
I haven’t been around much these past few years, but his second-in-command, Ella, has told me how much he loved these events.
And we’re really honored to be hosting two incredible New York Times bestselling authors. ”
The crowd was putty in his hands. I thought Southern charm was a myth. And even if it was real, I didn’t think it’d have any real effect on me. But I leaned in, too, almost instinctively.
When he walked up there, I didn’t have a lot of faith in him.
But I should’ve realized that Henry Martin was the kind of man who stepped up to the plate when he needed to.
He didn’t back down, weak and afraid like so many.
I mean, he uprooted his entire life to take care of the store. I was wrong about him.
“Rosie and Aiden Huntington are here to discuss their brand new novel, which I personally couldn’t put down. Lend a hand and welcome these folks, would you?”
Henry made his way toward me as the crowd applauded. Rosie and Aiden stepped out from the greenroom into the event space, holding hands. Aiden picked up both microphones, handing one to Rosie before he sat.
“You look sick,” I whispered.
“I have terrible stage fright. I think I blacked out. Did I do okay?” Henry murmured, standing close to me.
“Come with me,” I said as Rosie and Aiden began discussing their new book. I grabbed Henry’s hand and dragged him into the greenroom.
We took one look at each other and burst into laughter.
“I don’t think it could’ve gone worse,” I said, catching my breath.
“Joey and Stewart could’ve started making out instead of arguing.”
“Oh God,” I said, with a small laugh.
“We’ll get the hang of it,” he said.
“Didn’t you play football in stadiums? How do you have stage fright?”
Henry half smiled, looking down. “I had a helmet on.”
“Well once you got up there, you were a natural.”
He shrugged. “You know, you’re really easy to talk to. So I figured if I pretended I was talking to you I’d be okay.”
I looked down and smiled. And pretended it all meant nothing.