Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
- Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Summer
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Fall
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Laura laughed. “Honestly, I’d be totally down for a visit, even if it meant getting a slap across the back of the head.” She looked at the time, and added, “I should get on with my day, but I’ll call you again soon. I love you.”
There was a fractional hesitation. “You haven’t asked me about Nick.”
“No,” said Laura, “I haven’t.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
“I thought it was all friendly?”
Laura took a deep breath. “Grandma, Nick and I grew up together, went to college together . . . the romantic part is over, but we’re always going to be friends.” She waited, but her grandmother didn’t say anything. “Honestly, though, I’m trying to start a fresh chapter over here, and Nick is not part of it.”
“Does he know that?”
Laura shook her head, unseen. “Grandma, I gotta go. I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
Laura was about to hang up when her grandmother added, “Wait, did you get a car yet?”
“No, not yet. The buses are fine, and there’s a subway. Kind of.”
Her grandmother’s voice softened. “Baby, you’ll have to drive sometime. You knew that when you moved there.”
“I know,” Laura said, a little crossly. “I went in a car only the other day. It was fine.” Mostly fine.
Her grandmother sighed, then said, “Go, Knicks!”
“Go, Knicks,” replied her granddaughter, and hung up.
NINE
After the call Laura took a bus to Larchmont to return Nina’s clothes. When she arrived at the bookstore, Nina was engaged with a customer, and Laura ducked behind a shelf to wait. She looked along the rows of spines, tipping her head like you do in a bookstore, and saw she’d accidentally selected the science section. Familiar favorites caught her eye, books she hadn’t read in years but knew by heart. The Panda’s Thumb, a classic (and hugely entertaining) collection of essays about natural history, leapt out at her, the same edition she’d had on her bedroom shelf at home. The sight of its cover comforted her, and while she leafed through it, she peered over the top of the shelf at Polly and Nina.
Nina was wearing a soft red sweater over yellow cigarette pants, an outfit she’d been pretty happy with until Liz said it reminded her of Winnie the Pooh (Disney, not Shepard) and then Nina couldn’t unsee it. Chagrin had taken the bloom off her morning and she had yet to regain it. She should have dressed in gray, because now she felt like Eeyore.
However, the customer in question was asking for recommendations for Golden Age mystery writers and had apparently hit a nerve. He’d read one left in an Airbnb and it had awoken a passion he’d never dreamed existed.