The Last Page

Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ella

“The Princess Bride is one of the greatest love stories ever told. William Goldman shows us that love can take its time, but it’s always worth fighting for.”

—Leo’s Staff Pick

It was Maya’s birthday and I was being a shitty big sister.

Of course I loved my little sister. But her birthday came and went every year.

Henry was leaving tomorrow. And I couldn’t even spend tonight with him because I was too busy setting the table with the china that my parents both hated.

That Maya doesn’t even care about because she’d rather be off with her friends.

I set a plate down a little too harshly and my mom cursed.

“Caracho, hijita, careful. That stuff is as old as me,” she said, frowning. She was making Maya’s favorite dish—ceviche. It wasn’t necessarily her favorite dish to make, so she was grumpier than usual, and I certainly wasn’t helping.

“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered. I set the next one down, light as a feather. “Better?”

“Sabelotoda,” she said, shaking her head before heading back to the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Carlito asked. He was placing the silverware carefully around each of the plates, eyeing it to make sure the knives and forks were precise.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m just a little grumpy.”

“I get grumpy, too,” he announced.

“Oh yeah? What can I do to stop being grumpy then?”

“Papí says to count to one million and by the time I get there, I’ll feel better.”

I smiled at the fact that our dad still used the same tricks. “Does it work?”

Carlos nodded thoughtfully. “Usually by the time I get to two hundred I forget what I’m so grumpy about. But it doesn’t work if you’re really upset about something.”

“I’m really upset,” I confessed. “Remember when Jorge was going through a breakup?”

Carlos winced, covering his ears. “Please tell me I don’t have to listen to that song again.”

I laughed. “No, no. But I have to say goodbye to Henry. And it makes me a little sad.”

“Why do you have to say goodbye?”

“He’s moving back home. And I’m staying here. I wish he was staying here.”

“Oh, that would make me grumpy, too,” Carlos said with a frown. “Well, you know Mamí’s making picarones for Maya. Does that make you feel better?”

I ruffled his hair as he finished the last set. “Tons. Dame un abrazo,” I said, crouching down as he ran into my arms. I held him close and he hugged me back extra tight.

“You never know!” Carlos said into my hair. “My friend Matt left pre-k last year but came back to kindergarten. It happens.”

“I sure hope so,” I said with a sigh. “C’mon, let’s finish setting the table.”

Once Carlos and I finished, I slipped into the kitchen. My mom was humming an old Los Panchos song to herself. Things had gotten a lot better for my family. My dad got a new job managing a Trader Joe’s in Manhattan but my mom was still working a lot of overtime, according to Maya.

“Mamí,” I said, quietly. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, mi vida.” She continued tossing ingredients in the ceviche, casting me a sidelong glance. “Everything okay?”

“You heard the news about the store?”

She smiled and reached over to pinch my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, mi querida nina. I knew you all could do it.”

“Thanks, Mamí,” I said, smiling back. “But I want to help you all out.”

She frowned. “You heard about your father’s job, no?”

“I also heard you’re taking extra shifts and overtime.” I cut her off before she could respond. “Mom, don’t hit me with the chancla for this, but you’re too old for that.”

Her brows drew together and she reached for her foot, I reached out to stop her. “Please, have mercy!”

“I’m not old, Carmella,” she said matter-of-factly. “Have you ever considered I like working?”

I laughed. “No, I’ve never considered that. Every time I come home you complain about it one way or another. Let me help you all out.”

“This isn’t your job.”

“It’s what I want to do,” I insisted. “I want you all to be taken care of—”

My mom turned off the stove and turned toward me. “And who is taking care of you, hmm?” She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the countertop. “I know it’s in you to care about everyone and take care of us. But if I needed your help, I’m not too prideful to ask for it.”

“It’s not about just you and Dad. What about their college funds? What about schooling expenses—”

“It’s not my first time being a mother, Carmella. I raised you just fine, didn’t I?”

“I mean, yes, but—”

“But you need to look out for yourself, too. Everyone’s got troubles and not enough money, but I’ve got love. I’ve got a family. I’ve got everything I can ask for. And so what, I don’t buy name-brand Oreos, but Carlito is scarfing them down behind my back every chance he gets.”

She gently grabbed my shoulders, sending a small smile my way. “Take some of that weight off your shoulders. Celebrate this victory that you did and celebrate it for you, for Leo. But don’t give it all away to me. We are not people you have to please, we’re your family, okay mi vida?”

I nodded, my throat thick. “You promise you’ll tell me if you need me?”

“My first call,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “Who else will make a binder as good as you?”

It was a typical Sanchez birthday dinner. We all went around sharing our favorite memory with Maya. Jorge bemoaned about his ex-girlfriend and Maya dropped the bombshell of yet another boyfriend.

This was why I knew I couldn’t ever ask Henry to stay.

I valued having my family around much more than I realized.

The family dinners, even babysitting the kids, left my heart so full.

His mom did the same for him. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t significant.

But I wished we could’ve stayed in the hazy early days of summer.

Just as my mom brought out the picarones in lieu of a birthday cake, my phone began to ring.

“Oye,” my father said with a frown. “No phones at the table.”

“I know, I know, I’ll send it to voicemail.” I pulled out my phone but frowned at the number. It was Leo’s lawyer. “Sorry, I need to take this, I’ll be back.” My family booed me as I stood, but I called back, “Leave me some picarones.”

I stepped out of the house onto our porch, facing my old block.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hi there, is this Carmella Sanchez? I’m calling regarding Leo Martin’s will.”

“I’m Carmella. Is everything okay?”

“Mr. Martin left you something in his will. I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to get to you. He had lots of files and we wanted to locate it before we notified you.”

I frowned. I guess in all the hubbub of Henry getting the store, I never really considered what Leo had left me. “That’s okay,” I said.

“He left you a letter. You can come pick it up at our office in Midtown whenever it is convenient for you. We can also send you a photo of it if you’re eager to read it.”

“Please,” I said, my voice strained, already thin. “Could you send a photo?”

“Sure, we can text it to this number.”

I sat on my front porch steps after we hung up, staring at my phone, waiting for the text to come through. When it finally did, my hands were shaking as I scrolled and began to read.

My dearest Ella,

I know you have a million questions (in addition to the million you already had about the world!).

Well, lucky for you, I’ve got answers galore.

Pretty sneaky of me, huh? We used to always make fun of this trope in books—the post-mort letter that reveals all the secrets the character had been searching for!

I thought you’d like one last laugh between the two of us.

I’m sorry. For everything. I’m not sure how much you know yet, but I’m assuming if you got this letter, then you’ve probably met Henry.

I know all of this was probably confusing and left you stressed.

It was never my intention, but … it was a necessary evil.

I’m sorry that I derailed your plans, but I hope you soon realize I had my reasons.

I know I’m dying. I’ve been going to a heart doctor for the better part of a year and he’s been telling me I don’t have much time left.

Heart issues run in my family; it’s what took my son’s life.

I have a coronary artery disease. They caught it late (well, the doctor said I didn’t come in often enough to get checked out, but potato po-tah-to).

I never thought I’d be so accepting of the end.

Of course it scared me. But I know you, Ella.

You would’ve come in with a binder and a new diet and exercise plan.

But I didn’t want to spend the last years of my life poked and prodded by needles and giving up all the things I’ve loved.

I had a wonderful life. I’m ready for the last page.

One of my biggest regrets, however, was never being able to repair my relationship with my grandson, Henry. I wasn’t clearheaded back then. I was pushy, and I shoved him too far away from me. I thought he’d bounce back, but he never did.

I had true intentions for you to take over the store. And I believe you would run it well. Perfectly, in fact. And maybe you think the will was all some big mishap, but when I went over my will, I thought maybe this was my one last shot.

I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, and in all honestly, I haven’t met who he is now, but he was such a bright kid.

He was shy and quiet, sometimes sad, but he had that same spark in his eyes when he spoke about books that you always had.

He loved the store when he was little. Like you, he would get yelled at by Jack for running up and down the aisles.

I don’t need to hear him say it to know he thought of this store as a second home.

When his father died, I watched that light dim in real time. He didn’t pick up books, didn’t come by the store as frequently. And as you recall, we had that fight that left us on the outs.

I kept up with him. Called his mother every single day.

Had her send me pictures because I love Henry.

I knew he loved this store, too. From what it sounded like, according to his mother, he wasn’t doing well.

His mother was concerned he had no passion for anything in his life, that everything was just passing him by.

And the one word I would use to describe you would be passionate. Your zest and pure love of life and the store was obvious. So forgive me, but I left him the store. I hope you don’t mind, but I also hope you know you weren’t a pawn in some masterminded game of chess I was playing.

You always reminded me of him. You had the parts he lacked and you lacked the parts he had.

I think it’s why we always got along so well.

I thought if I left the store to Henry, he’d either be as mad as he said he was and just sell it to you or give it to you.

Or, he’d come up to New York and try to run it for himself.

I’m hoping it’s the latter and he kept you right there alongside him.

Once he meets you, he won’t need my endorsement, but he should know you have it.

In these years, he’s lost so much light in his eyes.

So much color in his face. And I’m hoping you could bring it back to him.

And I’m hoping he can bring that romanticism back in your life.

I can only hope you two became some form of friends.

He can be a little shy at first, but keep trying. For me.

I’m sorry for not telling you I was sick.

But, Ella, you were an excellent granddaughter to me.

When I think about the end of my life, I think about arguing over who gets the used copy of Play It as It Lays with notes in the margin.

I think of you not being able to stop laughing in embarrassment when I asked you to explain the concept of Ice Planet Barbarians.

I didn’t want you to look at me with hopeless hope.

Ernest Hemingway said, “There is no friend as loyal as a book.” But you were an extremely close second, Ella. I love you. Take care of my family at The Last Page for me.

With love,

Leo