The Charm Bracelet(87)

Beautiful. Happy, I think.

I look even closer, and I can still see tears streaming down her face.

“Are you okay, Mom?” I ask.

“Sixty-one years ago today,” she whispers over the echoing booms of the fireworks, “was my last birthday with my mom. But you two … you two have given me the greatest gift ever. You are my living history. My stories won’t die with me.”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I can feel myself begin to choke up, too.

I take a deep breath and force my tears to stop their rise.

For I am not sad. I am blessed.

I am the keeper of my mother’s memories.

And when I am her age, I hope to sit here with my daughter, and my grandchildren, as the fireworks explode.

I will sit patiently and wait for the wind to rattle my charm bracelet—which will be even heavier than my mom’s is now—and I will shut my eyes, and I will listen to the voices of my family.





Acknowledgments

I always preach to aspiring writers that they should write what calls to them, no matter what anyone else thinks, because that writing will truly become inspired work and thus inspire others. Moreover, that work will call to you—if not haunt you—until you finish it.

I also tell writers that the end goal of success or money is never the most important thing when you come from this place: Writing is the reward. You do it because, well, there is no other choice.

This is so true with The Charm Bracelet.

My grandmothers and their charm bracelets were the inspiration for this highly personal novel that honors and pays tribute not only to them (the book bears my grandmother’s name as a pseudonym) but also our elders, who we too often take for granted and whose incredible lives we too often overlook.

As I grew older, I—like most of us do—got caught up in things that seemed important but really weren’t. In my quietest moments, I could still hear in my mind the jangling of my mother’s and grandmothers’ bracelets, and that sound reminded me of what was truly important in life, that the smallest things are the greatest gifts.

I spent my summers with my grandparents, usually at an old log cabin in the Ozarks, always without a phone, a TV, a microwave. It was the time before cell phones, wireless, and laptops. We only had inner tubes, books, fishing poles, and one another. But I received the greatest gift of all those summers: I got to know my grandparents as people, beautiful, flawed, wonderful humans whose sacrifices and journeys helped make me who I am.

What I ask of you is this: Take a moment, if you have yet to do so, and ask your elders about their lives. Put down your phones and listen. They will astound you.

I couldn’t be prouder of this novel, which took me many years (and tries) to perfect. After writing four memoirs, I learned that writing a novel is—as my esteemed agent, Wendy Sherman, told me—akin to wrestling a bear to the ground. Well, I wrestled the bear to the ground and got pretty torn up along the way. But I learned a lot, too. The journey has been so worth it. An artist, I believe, should always be a bit uncomfortable in their work. It makes you question, worry, wonder, stretch, and ultimately, better.

That’s a great transition to Wendy, whom I just can’t thank enough … not only for being a great agent and friend, of course, but also for being much more than that. See, I didn’t think I could do this. And you never stopped believing in me. You guided, you coached, you taught, you listened, you cheered, you worried, but you never dished out false BS. Did you send me packing quite a few times? Yep. But I listened. Over and over. And when I knew you liked it, when I knew you were ready, when I said, “I’m scared,” you said, “Let me be your parachute.”

To Laurie Chittenden: Reunited and it feels so gooood … Sorry, but I’m a Peaches & Herb–era guy. Honestly, I couldn’t have dreamed of a better fit for this novel, and to be back with you a decade after America’s Boy—after we have both grown and changed so much—seems as if it has always been part of a bigger plan. Your early enthusiasm for The Charm Bracelet (I mean, you have a charm bracelet!) has meant the world. You have also helped make this book infinitely deeper, richer, and more resonant. It’s never “work” to work with you.

Speaking of early and ongoing enthusiasm: To the entire team at St. Martin’s Press and Thomas Dunne Books—Sally Richardson, Tom Dunne, Pete Wolverton, Jen Enderlin, and Lisa Senz—huge, heartfelt thanks. I have never been met with such a warm embrace, and it means the world. Thanks also to Melanie Fried (a Michigan girl!) as well as Cameron MacLeod Jones, whose charm illustrations were (pardon the pun) absolutely charming and truly captured the beauty and sentimentality of the novel and my family’s charms.

To Jenny Meyer: Gracias! Danke sch?n! Grazie! How many ways are there to say thank you? You seem to have found plenty! Truly, an author’s dream is to see their work published around the world, and you have made that dream come true. To see offers for The Charm Bracelet to be translated into German, Russian, Italian, Polish, Spanish, and on and on has made me cry every time. You are amazing at what you do. And a wonderful person to boot. (Same to you, Shane King!)

Heartfelt thanks to Kim Perel, who offered wonderful early insights and directions for making this book come to life.

Huge hugs to McLean & Eakin Booksellers (Jess, Bess, and Kirstyn … and, of course, you, too, Matt!) and Jill Miner and Jody Chwatun at Saturn Booksellers, who were also early readers of the manuscript, and who took time from their insane schedules to offer key, critical feedback that made this book better. I would not be here without you.