Page 37 of Wish You Were Her

Jonah thought about the years he had spent in the shop.

The displays he had made, the countless emails and phone calls he had fielded, organizing the festival and chasing publishers on behalf of George.

He thought about every moment of sweat he had given to the poorly paid job, just to get books to the right people and to support authors who needed his help.

All of it washed away because of a mystery grudge and one bad decision.

“Yeah, I’m done,” Jonah said wearily. “No notice. I’ll leave right now.”

He fished his keys and computer card out of his jeans and dropped them onto George’s already chaotic work desk.

He could tell by the astounded look on George’s face that he had not expected this.

Despite years of dedication and hard work, Jonah had to wonder what made the man think he would meekly stay and work where he was clearly not wanted.

“Jonah, look, I—”

Jonah gave him a half-hearted salute. “Thanks for a few years of work and some serious retail-back-problems, I guess.”

“Jonah, let’s discuss things a little more calmly, maybe when—”

“Nah. Bye.”

Jonah felt an undeniable, yet completely surprising, sense of relief as he left the office, and then Brooks Books. He gave Nick, the other part-time bookseller who had arrived, a warm nod but did not fill him in. He walked with an easiness and a sense of purpose.

Grace Lancaster was emerging from the Arthouse as he made his way home. She sprinted up Main Street to reach him.

“Jonah, what happened? Someone said you knocked Simon out!”

“Not quite,” Jonah said. “Wish that were true.”

“So, what—”

“Let’s go to the arcade, I’ll tell you everything.”

Allegra was on her street, outside her apartment building.

She waited until Cliff, the driver, gave the nod to signal that the street was clear.

She slipped out of the car with Natalie and smiled at Mohammad, the building’s doorman, as he held the door open for her.

The marble lobby was just as sparkling and as clean as it had been in May, when she left.

She and Natalie entered the lift and rode up in silence. There was a small vestibule between the elevator and her front door. She took out her keys but it flew open to reveal her mother.

Allegra burst into tears.

Her mother embraced her and she could feel Natalie rubbing her back.

The three women stood in the small vestibule, with its finely embossed wallpaper and prettily tiled flooring, and Allegra just cried.

She let out every thought and feeling that had been constrained beneath the mask.

She let the neurotypical gaze fade into unimportance.

“Everything went wrong,” she said into her mother’s shoulder.

“It might feel that way now,” her mother said, her voice a cocktail of kindness and assurance with a zesty twist of no-nonsense: “But we’ll come out clean. Let’s go and sit in your weirdly empty apartment, which has no furniture.”

There was a beat and then all three of them laughed.

The penthouse apartment had four bedrooms, one bathroom, three en-suites, a kitchen, a dining room, a small pantry, a walk-in wardrobe, a large reception room, a small study/sitting room, two storage closets and a wide balcony overlooking the rest of the neighborhood.

There was air conditioning, twinkling chandeliers, and secure locks on all doors and…

It had been the biggest undertaking of Allegra’s life. She had purchased it the week after her eighteenth birthday. Anonymously, as sellers had tried to up their prices on hearing that an interested party was a movie star. It was in her name. Paid for with cash, and completely her own.

Yet it didn’t feel like home.

“You are one lucky eighteen-year-old,” her mother said, as the three of them stood in the vast reception room.

Her mother took in the high ceilings with amazement while Natalie made sure that the door was securely locked, and Allegra checked for her own peace of mind. It was a little routine of theirs.

“Very lucky,” Allegra acknowledged, gazing around at the empty rooms. “Mum. I met someone really great in Lake Pristine.”

“I know, I did see the pictures.”

Allegra released a dry laugh. “As well as him.”

“Oh?”

“Jasper Montgomery?” She turned it into a question, knowing that her mother had grown up in Lake Pristine and, while older than Jasper, probably knew her parents.

“The Montgomerys in the Lakehouse? Howard and Andrea Montgomery?”

“Must be,” Allegra said.

“Wow. They’re a fancy-pants Lake Pristine family.”

“Fancy-pants,” Natalie repeated under her breath, laughing.

“Which one is Jasper?” her mother asked. “They had two daughters, a sweet one and a… not so sweet one.”

“She’s the sweet one. And an interior designer and she has the most amazing ideas.”

“Well, maybe if we can get her clearance, she can visit here and you guys can work together.”

Even though Allegra was technically an adult, and even though she had privileges and responsibilities that other eighteen-year-olds could scarcely imagine, she still ran ideas past her mother, as if asking for permission and advice all in one.

Roxanne knew that Allegra needed her approval, even still, so she would always anticipate what Allegra wanted to hear before gently offering it up as a suggestion.

This was one such occasion. So, it was decided. Jasper Montgomery would be invited to the apartment, and employed as its new designer. It was a carrot dangled in front of Allegra. A reward waiting at the end of Natalie’s battle plan.

“You’re invited onto Beckton’s tonight. Are we saying ‘yes’?”

“You don’t have to,” Allegra’s mother said, as soon as Natalie had asked the question. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Allegra exhaled. “Natalie’s right. We need to shatter the void, or whatever. Fine. I’ll do it.”