The Noel Letters (The Noel Collection #4) - Richard Paul Evans Page 0,74

near the back of Bobbooks while Dylan brought over a cup of coffee.

“So, how does this thing work?” he asked, handing me the mug.

“Thank you, honey,” I said as he sat down. “You just take their books and open it to the Post-it Note, if there is one. If they have more than one book, you can stack them inside each other.”

“Like taco shells.”

I smiled. “Just like taco shells.”

While Cammy, Cyndee, and a new girl, Lark, sold books, Alex and Teddy walked up and down my line handing out Post-it Notes so my readers could write down who they wanted me to sign their book to.

Wendy walked up behind us. “I wish your father was here to see this.”

“I’m pretty sure he is,” I said.

“Of course he is,” Grace said.

It was no surprise that Grace was first in line, especially since the book was dedicated to her. I had invited her as my special guest, and we let her in early through the employees’ entrance.

Wendy smiled at me. “Are you ready?”

“I think she’s thirty-years ready,” Dylan said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Good,” Wendy said. “Thank you for having your first signing here.”

“You know my dad would kill me if I didn’t. Thank you for having me.”

Teddy walked up to me with Alexis by his side. She was nine now, and nearly as outspoken as I had been at her age. “Dude, your line goes down the block.”

“She’s not a dude,” Alexis said. “She’s a lady.”

“My apologies. So, before the mayhem commences, may I get your autograph? It’s like you’re a celebrity now.”

“She’s not a celebrity,” Alexis said. “She’s my mom.”

“Dude, celebrity, it’s all good,” I said. I took one of my books from the table and signed it. “There you go, Teddy. It’s my gift.”

“Thanks. I promise I won’t sell it on eBay.”

“You can do whatever you want with it. It’s yours.”

* * *

Alex was right, by the way. Dylan and I married just six months after that Christmas. Dylan already had the wedding tuxedos, and Wendy let us hold the ceremony at the bookstore. It was perfect. At least perfectly us. Wendy was my maid of honor. Grace arranged for our wedding cake. It was gorgeous and was made to look like a stack of books, with the names of the books written in frosting. I’m sure my father would have loved every bit of it.

I never went back to New York. I worked remotely with Jerica on a couple more of her books (yes, I won the battle and she learned to email me her manuscripts) but finally decided it wasn’t worth the aggravation. She was surprisingly gracious when I told her that I was quitting to work on my own book. She even gave me a blurb for the jacket.

After our wedding, I moved in with Dylan. Wendy sold her home and purchased mine to be closer to the store, though I don’t really think that was her prime motivation. I’m happy to report that Bobbooks now has a café. Teddy is the chief barista. He was perfect for the job, as he had worked at a Starbucks for two years before coming to us.

The café part was Wendy’s choice, of course. She said, “Robert will probably let me have it in the next life, but it’s worth it for now.” It has added a nice cushion to her bottom line. Business is good, and she’s now looking at expanding into the space next door. She’s even thought of opening a second store.

On a more personal note, Wendy’s dating someone now. He’s cute, and he’s younger than she is. And he goes by Bobby. I’m just glad she’s not alone.

Dylan and I are looking at a little expansion ourselves. I’m five months pregnant. So far so good. Alexis is hoping for a little sister. I totally get that.

In addition to the café, Wendy’s done a little more remodeling. She put a little plaque up on the wall near the entrance with a picture of my father. Engraved in brass are these words by Vonnegut:

A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.

Life is good. For my wedding present, Wendy had my father’s letters bound into a book with the title Tabula Rasa: Love Letters from a Father to His Daughter.

I have reread the letters many times now. Someday I’ll pass the book on to my own children. I like the concept of a tabula