Chapter 11

The next morning, I stopped at Beans on my way to work.

“Hey, Greta,” Mac said, setting down a load of boxes and dusting off his chest. His T-shirt asked me if I had any plans for the rest of my life. “I’m happy to see you.” They were innocent enough words, but as he said them, all I could think of was standing in the park, holding on to each other, ignoring the rest of the world.

I’m not saying he caused it or anything, but I had a tiny episode of amnesia, so I stared at him until I remembered why I was there. Oh. Right. “I need three peanut butter cookies, please, and the name of your favorite author.”

He smiled and put the cookies into a brown paper bag. “Today is your lucky day. The prettiest girl to walk in today wins three free cookies.” He handed the bag across the counter. My whole body squirmed. Was that shock? Surprise? Pleasure? What do you even call it when all those things happen at once? Distraction, apparently, because I thanked him and walked out without getting an answer to the author question.

Walking to work, I clutched the bag of practically stolen cookies and texted Will.

It was his prep hour at work so he answered right away, as if he’d been holding the phone in his hands already.

Obviously.

I’d walked about half a block when my phone rang. “Wait. Living author? Are we doing an event?” Will laughed, knowing the answer.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi. But, are we? Are you bringing in an author?”

Leave it to Will to get squeaky with excitement at the prospect. “I’m thinking about it. What do you say?”

“It’s the best idea in the history of great ideas. You’re a genius. I could not be more into it. Tell me what I can do to make it happen. I want in. I want to be a part of this historical awesomeness.” The excitement in his voice made me laugh out loud.

I breathed in the perfect morning, the happiness of the conversation, and the possibility that lay ahead. “Thank you, Will, for real. Thank you for being so excited with me. You are my favorite.”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? What kind of cretin wouldn’t be stoked about this? Okay. I have to go teach school. But do not—I repeat—do not leave me out of this. Text me all the updates. You’re a genius. And I’m so proud of you.”

When I got to the library, I swiped my time card and tossed my bag under the desk. I handed Julie a cookie and started talking to her as if it was normal to eat cookies at ten in the morning, and as if we’d ever actually started this conversation. “What about a reading? With a picture book writer. What about someone who adults loved when they were little and now they love to share with their kids? What about”—I paused for effect—“Eleanor Richtenberg?”

Julie opened up her mouth and showed all her teeth and laughed out loud, in a non-library-approved way. “I love it.”

“Really? Because I think it could be perfect. I think it’s the way to draw the biggest crowd. I think she will be the most accessible because kids and adults and teens—everyone—can connect with her. I think this is the one.”

She closed her mouth, but couldn’t stop her smile. “You sound like you’re defending your thesis.”

“I’m pretty excited.”

“No kidding. Me too.” She pulled the bag of gummy bears out of the desk drawer and handed it to me. I took a green one and pulled off its head.

“Okay. How do we find her?” Julie asked.

I sat down at the computer and Googled her. Website? Grimsby.com. Oh, yes. A squirming glowworm glared out of the screen, alongside a photo of the author that must be twenty years old, at least, judging from the hair. And the outfit.

I flipped through the digital bookshelf, and each Grimsby the Grumpy Glowworm book flashed up on the screen. I was giddy. These were the favorite books of my kid-hood. I had permission, and I was determined to make this happen.

Take the following steps to arrange an author’s visit to a community library:

1. Search author’s website for contact information. Find none.

2. Google author to see if, by some chance, her phone number is listed.

3. Find that, in fact, it is not.

4. Discover a hidden website page, behind a particularly grumpy glowworm drawing, that contains a link to author’s publicist.

5. Contact the publicist, who has a polite assistant who assures you that your call will be returned (at work) as soon as possible.

6. Wait, staring at the phone, for eleven days.

7. Moan.

7.5. Send polite reminder emails to publicist every thirty-six hours.

8. Receive a phone message (at work) from publicist, who, as it happens, returns calls in the middle of the night.

9. On a Saturday.

10. Do a giddy dance.

11. Engage in a game of pro-level phone tag with publicist.

12. Erase several community events from library calendar to clear an entire week for author’s possible visit.

13. Accept (without reading) publicist’s list of requirements for author’s comfort.

14. Hear these words: “Congratulations. Eleanor Richtenberg will be at your library on October twenty-sixth.”

“Save the date: Beloved author E. Richtenberg @Franklin Library 10/26. Reading, reception, & signing. #Grimsby #SaveFranklinLibrary #NotAJoke”