Until We Meet Again(89)

of my mind. Why is that name familiar?

And then all at once I know. Winthrop. As clear as a flash of white light, I can see the large banner stretching across the wall in the library:



L. James Winthrop: Crest Harbor’s Greatest Treasure.





h


I make it back to the library with less than fifteen minutes before closing. Panting and red-faced, I run in from the parking lot and crash through the doors. The librarian at the front desk gives me a swift, disapproving glance. These people are probably sick of seeing me. But I don’t care. Ignoring the desk lady, I head into the main lobby.

The banner and decorations are gone. Breathing hard, I scan the area. I need to find that librarian who helped me with the microfilm. I have to speak with her. I have to know.

I run through the aisles, looking down each length for her. Library patrons glance at me with varying levels of annoyance and curiosity.

I see her. She’s shelving encyclopedia volumes in a tall, cherrywood display case. I’m so happy she’s here that I literally have to keep myself from throwing my arms around her. “Can I help you find something?” she asks with a tinge of disapproval at my galloping approach.

“I need you to tell me about L. James Winthrop.” Her face immediately brightens. “Well, of course. What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” I say breathlessly. “Everything.”





h


We sit at a table in the sunny courtyard. The library has closed, but Evelyn, my new favorite librarian in the entire world, seems to have no problem letting me stay. She sets a stack of books in front of me.

“His major poetry volumes,” she says. “

Gray Coast is his

most popular.”

The second book in the stack peeks out from beneath Gray Coast. The bottom part of a man’s jacket glistens on the cover.

I draw in a sharp breath. A picture of him?

Unable to resist, I set my hand on the top book. The ring

Lawrence gave me glitters faintly in the sun. The sight of it gives me strength. Slowly, so slowly, I pull the book away. There he is. Lawrence.

He’s much older but still achingly handsome. In fact, if possible, he looks even better with age. Either way, it’s Lawrence, smiling his beautiful smile.

“Are you all right?”

I look up at Evelyn, and only then do I realize that tears are

rolling down my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly.

“I’m just…a big fan.”

She smiles. “I can see that.”

“Did he live a good life?” I ask, trying to compose myself.

“Was he happy?”

“From all accounts, he was. Very happy. He married, had

three children. His later writings won him recognition by

the Academy of American Poets three times. He’s the most

acclaimed poet to come from the state of Massachusetts, let

alone Crest Harbor.”

I close my eyes, too elated to speak.

“A remarkable man,” Evelyn says. “You know, I met him

when I was just out of college. Got to shake his hand.”

“Did you? What was he like?”

“So charming,” she beams. “And very kind. I actually attended

his readings several times. He spoke with every person who

waited in line for his autograph. He seemed to really care and really enjoy chatting.”

“Yes,” I say to myself. “That’s Lawrence.”

Evelyn nods. “You’re right. His first name was Lawrence.”

“And…he’s not alive?”

“Sadly, no. But he is buried here in Crest Harbor. Near the

end of his life, after his wife died, he came back here to finish out his days. He bought the mansion his uncle had built in the nineteen twenties, where he’d lived as a teenager. They say he went out every morning to the property’s beach and wrote. He penned some of his most famous poems there.”

She grabs one of the volumes and flips through the pages.

“Here. This group here. His final poems.”

Trembling, I take the book. The poems are listed by date. My

eye falls immediately to the final one. The last poem of his life.

It’s titled: “For Cassandra.”





Acknowledgments


I first have to thank my amazing agent, Mollie Glick. I feel so lucky to be your client. I owe you lots and lots of chocolate. Hugs and thank you to Annette Pollert-Morgan. It has been an absolute pleasure working with you! You’ve helped me tell this story in the strongest way possible. And I love that the ending made you cry. Mission Accomplished!

Thank you to the awesome people at Sourcebooks and Foundry Literary + Media. So many wonderful people have helped bring this book into the world. Seeing my story come to life like this is a dream come true that will never get old.

I also want to thank all of my amazing friends who have been here for me during the highs and lows of this crazy writer life. Natalie Whipple, Kasie West, Jenn Johansson, Candice Kennington, Michelle Argyle, and Sara Raasch. I love you all. And I don’t see you ladies nearly enough! We need more Paolo in our lives.

A dozen doughnuts of gratitude to Tyler Jolley for being my local writer BFF. And a huge Dr Pepper to my previously-local life BFF, Natalie Holmgren. You know this book wouldn’t be what it is without your help and amazing ideas! Thanks for always being there for me. I miss you like crazy.