Page 58 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction
“We need to leave now or we’re going to be late,” Benji yells from the front door, ever the responsible grandpa child. He’s dressed in his bow tie and fresh khakis so that we know he’s taking this very seriously.
I jog down the stairs and take a quick look in the mirror by the entry table.
“You look beautiful,” Josh says, sweeping up behind me.
“What he said,” adds Benji. “Now come on!”
Ava smiles and locks her arm in mine as we walk perfectly synchronized down the front steps.
It’s a gorgeous spring night with only a slight chill in the air.
The sun has almost completely set, and the mountains look magical in the distance.
I could not have picked a better evening, a better place, to begin my book tour.
“Are you nervous?” Ava whispers to me while the boys talk fishing behind us.
“A little,” I answer. “I’m afraid no one is going to show.”
A couple minutes later, that fear is immediately cast away as we turn the corner onto Main Street. We can see a line of people waiting to enter Lenny’s.
As we approach, strangers, friends, and everyone in between is excitedly greeting us.
Brian from the hardware store gives me a quick hug.
Sunny grabs my shoulders and then pulls me in for a tight squeeze.
She’s simultaneously fighting back tears and smiling bigger than I knew was possible. Everyone tells me how proud they are.
We enter and I see my parents waving from the far side of the room, where most of our close friends have gathered.
Josh’s and Ben’s families are up there, too, chatting away like old friends.
Jenny is rocking Baby Coco in her sling as a handful of my girlfriends, including Kendell, coo over her.
I also spot Dr. Lisa, who insisted on meeting me in real life and being here for this special night. All of my people, in one place.
The bookstore wasn’t quite big enough, and I’m captivated by how much Lenny’s has been transformed to host the event.
Tables have been removed from the main dining area and folding chairs line every available bit of floor space.
Attendees are also seated in the booths that border the diner.
Tiny vases with freshly picked flowers have been placed around the room and homemade decorations that the kids snuck out to help with line the walls. This is perfect .
Josh and the kids head to their reserved seats, while I chat with Lenny and Marianne to go over the agenda.
“I’ll spend five minutes or so introducing you,” Marianne says. “Then we’ll turn the floor over to you. You can read as much or as little as you’d like, and then we’ll pass the mic around for questions.”
“This is too much,” I respond. “I could not have imagined something more special than this.”
“It’s nothing at all,” Lenny says, shooing me away but visibly emotional. “We’re honored.”
I walk toward the established front of the room where the acrylic lectern from Canopy Books stands.
Set up nearby is a table with stacks of my memoir— This Wasn’t the Plan— waiting to be signed.
A blowup of the cover stands nearby, and a giant starburst sticker at the top proclaims it a Maisy’s Book Club selection .
At 7 p.m. sharp, Marianne walks to the microphone and gives a tenderhearted introduction to the packed room, describing the first time we met to fits of laughter from the audience, and what the book has meant to her.
Before I know it, I’m up.
“Thank you all for being here today. It’s my honor to kick off the book tour here in Canopy. I’m eternally grateful to Lenny and Marianne for making this happen.
“I wrote a lot of this memoir in town, including about twenty thousand words down the street at The Drip, and even a few at that booth over there—when Lenny wasn’t talking my ear off.
Some chapters came out neat and without any hassle, but other times I wrote without any idea where it would lead.
Finding my voice and finding the story wasn’t always easy.
“One thing I struggled with for a long time was how to start this book.
A prologue sets the stage for the reader and the journey they are about to take—it was important for me to get it right.
Some people had strong opinions. They wanted me to go with shock and awe, and I understand why, but I knew that the true beginning would find me, even if it took a while.
“When I was at a particularly challenging step of this journey, my therapist gave me an assignment. I thought it was silly, but she insisted. My homework? Write a letter to Ben. Tell him about my life and how I’ve changed.
Say the things I need to say—especially the hard stuff, she told me. Then believe that he will receive it.
“One of the most challenging things I’ve ever done was read that letter back for the first time, but the instant I finished it, I knew my prologue had found me.
It’s funny sometimes how the beginning of a story doesn’t really make sense until we know how it ends—or, in my case, where the new journey begins. ”
I look out into the crowd and take a deep breath. Sitting in the front row, beaming with pride, are the three loves of my life. Ava, Benji, and Josh. I imagine Ben is here somewhere, too. I felt his energy the second I walked in.
“So, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to read the first part of my book—the prologue—before taking your questions.”
I sneak a sip of water, clear my throat, and pause for a moment to let all of this love in.
“Dear Ben,” I begin. “Big news: I’m a hugger now. I’d like to tell you how I got here.”