The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry(32)

And Ismay says to A.J., “It isn’t fair to Maya to have this Amelia person be such a big part of your life if you aren’t really serious about her.”

And Daniel says to A.J., “You shouldn’t change your life for any woman.”

That June, the good weather makes A.J. and Amelia forget these and other objections. When Amelia comes to pitch the fall list, she stays for two weeks. She wears seersucker shorts and flip-flops adorned with daisies. “I probably won’t see you much this summer,” she says. “I’ll be traveling for work and then my mother’s coming to Providence in August.”

“I could come see you,” A.J. suggests.

“I really won’t be around,” Amelia says. “Except for August, and my mother is an acquired taste.”

A.J. puts sunscreen on her strong, soft back and decides he simply can’t be without her. He decides to contrive a reason for her to come to Alice.

The minute she’s back to Providence, A.J. calls her on Skype. “I’ve been thinking. We should have Leon Friedman come sign at the store in August while the summer people are still in town.”

“You hate the summer people,” Amelia says. She has heard A.J. rant on more than one occasion about the seasonal residents of Alice Island: the families who come into his store right after buying ice cream from Captain Boomer’s and let their toddlers run around touching everything, the theater festival people with their too-loud laughs, the reverse snowbirds who think going to the beach once a week suffices for personal hygiene.

“That isn’t true,” A.J. says. “I like to complain, but I sell them a fair number of books, too. Plus Nic used to say that, contrary to popular belief, the best time to have an author event was during August. The people are so bored by then, they’ll do anything for distraction, even go to an author reading.”

“An author reading,” Amelia says. “My, that is substandard entertainment.”

“Compared to True Blood, I suppose.”

She ignores him. “Actually, I love readings.” When she was starting out in publishing, a boyfriend had dragged her to a ticketed Alice McDermott event at the 92nd Street Y. Amelia thought she hadn’t liked Charming Billy, but she realized when she heard McDermott read from it—the way her arms moved, the emphasis she placed on certain words—that she hadn’t understood the novel at all. When they left the reading, the boyfriend had apologized to her on the subway, “Sorry if that was kind of a bust.” A week later, she ended the relationship. She can’t help thinking how young she’d been, how impossibly high her standards.

“Okay,” Amelia says to A.J. “I’ll put you in touch with the publicist.”

“You’ll come, too, right?”

“I’ll try. My mother’s visiting me in August so—”

“Bring her!” A.J. says. “I’d like to meet your mother.”

“You only say that because you haven’t met her yet,” Amelia says.

“Amelia, my love, you have to attend. I’m having Leon Friedman for you.”

“I don’t remember saying I wanted to meet Leon Friedman,” Amelia says. But that’s the beauty of video calling, A.J. thinks— he can see that she’s smiling.

FIRST THING MONDAY morning, A.J. calls Leon Friedman’s publicist at Knightley. She’s twenty-six and brand new like they always are. She has to Google Leon Friedman to figure out what the book is. “Oh, wow, you’re the first appearance request I’ve had for The Late Bloomer.”

“The book is really a store favorite. We’ve sold quite a few copies of it,” A.J. says.

“You might be the first person to ever host an event with Leon Friedman. Like seriously, ever. I’m not sure.” The publicist pauses. “Let me talk to his editor to see if he’s up to doing events. I’ve never met him, but I’m looking at his picture right now, and he’s . . . mature. Can I give you a call back?”

“Assuming he’s not too mature to travel, I’d want to schedule it for the end of August before the summer people leave. He’ll sell more books that way.”

A week later, the publicist leaves word that Leon Friedman is not yet dead and available in August to come to Island Books.

A.J. has not hosted an author for years. The reason being, he has no talent for such arrangements. The last time Island had an author event was back when Nic was still alive, and she had always organized everything. He tries to remember what she had done.

He orders books, hangs posters in the store with Leon Friedman’s ancient face, sends relevant social media dispatches, and asks his friends and employees to do the same. Still, his efforts feel incomplete. Nic’s book parties always had a gimmick, so A.J. tries to come up with one. Leon Friedman is OLD, and the book flopped. Neither fact seems like much to hang a party on. The book is romantic but incredibly depressing. A.J. decides to call Lambiase. He suggests frozen shrimp from Costco, which A.J. now recognizes as Lambiase’s default party-throwing suggestion. “Hey,” Lambiase says, “if you’re doing events now, I’d really love to meet Jeffery Deaver. We’re all big fans of his at the Alice PD.”

A.J. then calls Daniel, who informs him, “The only thing a good book party needs is plenty of liquor.”

“Put Ismay on the phone,” A.J. says.