Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
ROBYN
Seven days. We can do this, Robyn told herself, giving herself a little pep talk while setting up extra chairs. The book club had been growing steadily, and the pumpkin pie book nook that had once comfortably fit a handful of people was starting to feel snug.
People started trickling in as the sun dropped behind the lake.
Emily arrived first with two pumpkin pies balanced in her arms and a grin that said she’d been baking all afternoon.
Anita, the owner of the Maple Leaf Café and the club’s newest member, came in right behind her carrying a crockpot of roasted butternut squash soup with a stack of Styrofoam bowls and a bag of oyster crackers balanced on top.
The store filled quickly after that: Mrs. Bishop and Mrs. C.
shrugging off their coats, the mayor settling into his usual chair with the air of a man arriving at his own parliament, Cassidy slipping in with a box of her autumn truffles.
“Is it true that there’s a buyer who’s interested in the store?” Cassidy whispered in Robyn’s ear, seconds after she arrived.
“Don’t remind me. I think he came through once last week, but that’s all I’ve heard. I know Meg is eager to sell, though.”
“Well, if the bookstore does end up selling, we can hold the club meetings at the library,” Mrs. C. said. “We’d have to reserve one of the community rooms if you want to bring our usual potluck in.” Mrs. C. motioned to the spread behind her.
“We’d do what we have to do,” Mrs. Bishop said with a brave nod. “Maybe we could read that book everyone’s been talking about. You know, that classic making a comeback.”
“Don’t even say it,” Cassidy said, already looking personally betrayed. “Even if we did read Wuthering Heights, the library wouldn’t be the same.”
Robyn shot her friend a sympathetic look before catching Tyler’s eye.
“No,” he said.
Robyn’s mouth twitched. “No?”
“No haunted moors. No emotionally unstable people screaming each other’s names into the wind. No one digging anybody up. I’m drawing a line.”
Cassidy put a hand to her chest. “Wow. Tell us how you really feel.”
“I am,” Tyler said. “That book is ninety percent bad decisions and weather.”
Robyn laughed before she could stop herself.
Tyler’s humor was just what she needed to take her mind off the bookshop being sold.
But she had to face reality. Her time in Maple Falls was dwindling away too.
She’d been forced to finally reply to work, as her department chair had not only been emailing her, but also calling and texting.
When Robyn had finally taken his call, he scheduled a Zoom meeting for Monday.
What with her writer’s block, the bookshop’s sale, and her most likely losing her job, the manuscript was a pleasant distraction. They’d only just found this final installment, though—no one had had a chance to read it yet—so tonight they’d do something different and read it aloud together.
Once the club members had arrived, and their plates were full of delicious desserts and finger foods, Mrs. C. got to work calling the meeting to order.
“So, what’s this book about?” Anita asked, settling in on her wooden chair, accepting her copy of the manuscript, and turning to the first page.
Everyone started talking at once.
“It’s magical, simply magical,” Cassidy started.
“The best swoon-worthy romance I’ve read in a long time,” Kit added.
“It’s definitely friends to lovers. Not that I read a ton of romance,” Tyler said. Everyone got a laugh out of that, now they knew his secret online identity.
“It’s just a book that has to be experienced,” Mrs. C. summarized.
The group nodded enthusiastically.
Mrs. Bishop had tried to be helpful, but of course, she couldn’t remember half of the story. In the end, Anita laughed and said, “I’ll read it over the weekend. You guys go ahead and pick up right where you left off.”
The book club took turns reading the chapters aloud, passing the pages around between bites of pumpkin pie and sips of Anita’s butternut squash soup.
It wasn’t how they’d done things before, but there was something special about discovering Isabel’s words together, in real time, gasping and laughing and arguing in the same breath.
Mrs. Bishop kept interrupting with predictions that were wildly wrong.
The mayor kept clearing his throat at the romantic parts.
Kit read her section with so much dramatic flair that even Mr. Darcy looked up from his perch on the armchair.
It wasn’t until there were only five pages left that the anxiety seemed to grow around the group.
“I don’t see how she’s going to wrap this story up in the next five pages,” Edith said, flipping ahead.
“Spoiler alert: She doesn’t,” Kit said, already reading the ending.
“What?” Robyn flipped to the last page, where another note from her great-grandmother was written.
Dear reader,
If you’ve come this far, then you know that love stories are built from hope, courage, missteps, and second chances, and all the quiet moments in between.
I know these final pages do not give you the ending you expected. Why? I wanted to leave that part to you.
Sometimes the happiest ending is the one we choose for ourselves. So, I am placing this one in your care. Write the ending you believe these characters deserve. Give them the future you hoped for. Let them find their happily ever after in the way only you can see.
With love,
Isabel
Robyn was speechless. She felt sick to her stomach. Her heart was racing. Her palms were sweaty.
“No, this can’t be happening. Why didn’t she finish the story?” Robyn asked the group. She’d assumed it would have had a happily ever after.
Everybody stared back at her, wide-eyed.
“Robyn, you know what this means,” Madison started to say.
“It means that you guys have a lot of work to do, because I cannot finish the story. Not me. Stop looking at me like that.” Robyn stood up and began pacing the bookshop while the rest of the club members talked among themselves.
Tyler came over to Robyn.
“I swear to God,” Robyn said, pointing at him before he could speak, “do not tell me to calm down.”
Tyler held up both hands, palms out. “I wasn’t going to.”
Robyn’s chest heaved. She hated how close she was to crying in front of everyone. She hated how her whole body felt like it was shaking with panic.
Tyler’s voice stayed low, warm. “I was only going to suggest… maybe we could do it together.”
Robyn blinked at him.
He stepped closer, not crowding her, just close enough that she could hear him over the room. “I might not be as good of a writer as you, but I can help.”
Robyn opened her mouth, ready to protest, ready to say a hundred reasons why that was impossible, why it had to be her, why she needed to get this right on her own or it didn’t count. But the words evaporated.
She didn’t have to hold everything so tightly. The world wouldn’t fall apart if she loosened her grip. Isabel hadn’t written her story alone either; she’d trusted her friends, the book club, to finish it. Maybe that was the real lesson here all along.
“Okay,” she whispered, finding the courage that had evaded her for twenty-eight years. “Let’s do it together.”