The Noel Letters (The Noel Collection #4) - Richard Paul Evans Page 0,7

wings flapped in unison.

“Hello, little bird,” I said. We had history, that bird and me. I used to stand beneath the clock and wait for its appearance.

Across from me was a framed quote on the wall:

Enjoy the little things in life for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.

—Kurt Vonnegut

My father collected quotes, and he especially loved those from Vonnegut. I think his favorite Vonnegut quote was

To be is to do—Socrates

To do is to be—Sartre

Do Be Do Be Do—Sinatra

It was as if all the emotions I’d run from hadn’t really died but had existed in this timeless place, clinging to the joists and drywall, waiting for my return to resurface.

I went to my bedroom, lay back on the bed, and cried.

That night I had a dream. My father was standing by the side of my bed with my mother. They just stood there silently, holding hands, looking at me.

CHAPTER two

Take a good book to bed with you—books do not snore.

—Thea Dorn

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2015

I woke to the incessant clucking of the cuckoo. The room’s blinds were closed and were glowing against an already high sun. I leaned over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand to check the time. I had forgotten to charge it. It was dead.

I pulled back the sheets, got the charger from my backpack, and plugged in my phone, then went to the kitchen, looking up at the now-silent clock. It was noon. I’d slept for almost twelve hours.

I opened the cupboard where my father had once kept the coffee. I wasn’t surprised that it was there. My father was a man of habit. The location was the same, but his taste in coffee had changed. Like most Americans, he had gone from the ubiquitous grocery store brand to a more exotic blend—Kona Vanilla Macadamia Nut.

As I put the coffee on to brew, I heard my phone beep. I walked back to my room to see who had called. I had two text messages and four missed calls, two of them from local numbers I didn’t know. There were three voice mails. The first text was from Jerica Bradley, one of my more popular authors. It simply said:

What did you think of revision?? Tossed the LI

LI. Jerica’s abbreviation for “love interest.” Haven’t read it yet, I thought. Some of us need sleep.

The other text was from a number with an 801 area code, but there was no name attached.

Your father’s funeral will be this Saturday. I left you a phone message.

I went to my voice mail. The first message was from my roommate, Diana.

“Hey, Noel, it’s Diana. Hope your father is okay. Sorry to bother you during this, but Darrin is moving back in next Wednesday, so I’ve got to get your things out. When will you be back?”

I groaned and went to the next voice mail.

“Noel, this is Wendy. Your father’s funeral will be this Saturday at the church on Parleys Way or Boulevard, whatever they call it. It’s the one by the house.

“The viewing starts at nine a.m. and the funeral begins at eleven. I’ll have a place saved for you at the front of the chapel. Your father had his funeral planned out. He didn’t put you on the program but asked me to give you the chance if you wanted to participate. Call me at this number if you have any questions. Bye.”

It was just like my father to have his own funeral planned out. He was planful.

I was stuck here until Saturday. The good news was that there wouldn’t be many distractions, and I could actually get some work done without all the meetings my supervisor, Natasha, loved to pile on us. I had a lot of reading to do.

The last voice mail was from Jerica Bradley. Jerica had a crusty smoker’s voice that sounded chronically angry—which was basically true. She was one of those authors that every publisher wanted but no one wanted to work with. She was best kept in the basement writing books—not just so she could write more, but because her book signings usually left her readers offended and disillusioned. After meeting her, longtime fans would, out of principle, stop buying her books. Her torturous personality wasn’t just reserved for her readers and publishers. She once walked out of Today’s greenroom just twelve minutes before her appearance for the stated reason that she didn’t like their coffee selection, leaving me and her publicist, Hannah, to do damage control with the show’s producers.