Aurelia looked around the shop in a panic, as if she might spot an escape hatch.Instead, she caught sight of Sergeant Cuff, who was lurking nearby.He made his way into the center of their little group.
“A sequel!Yes, that just might do it,” he said.
“Dowhat?”she asked, her voice betraying her anxiety with just those two words.
“Night after night you have observed that the books you have laid on the table there”—he gestured to the front of the shop—“release characters into the shop.Write this story you propose and try putting it on the table.If this experiment succeeds, then Count Vronsky or someone else from your new story will appear and confirm that he is, at last, happy with his ending.Furthermore, I suspect the next time you leave a copy of his first novel on the table, he will not appear.Instead, two characters who are satisfied with their ending will appear in his place.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Cuff,” Marmee said, looking pleased with herself.
Cuff gave a dramatic bow, as if he were on stage taking his applause at the end of a performance.
For a moment, Aurelia’s anxiety took a backseat to her curiosity.Earlier that day, she hadn’t taken the idea this far.Was it possible that writing a sequel could, as Cuff believed,reallychange Vronsky’s future?
She and Vronsky exchanged glances.He looked doubtful, but Aurelia could tell he hadn’t completely dismissed the idea.She waited for his verdict.It was up to him, now—if he wanted to do it, she’d have to agree.How could she refuse when it might release him from his constant state of grief?
Vronsky took a deep breath, then let it out in an expressive sigh.
“I am dubious as to the outcome, but I am intrigued by the process.I would like to see what Aurelia would write of my future.Therefore I shall leave myself in her hands.”
He turned to Aurelia.Though she was still overwhelmed at the idea of writing again—and writing something so unique and important—she was also honored by his decision to trust her with a project that could, if Cuff was right, change the course of his life.
She took a moment to collect herself, then held out her hand, as if to shake his.Vronsky let out a laugh, moved his hand next to hers, and they pretended to shake in agreement.
27
NewsofVronsky’ssequelquickly spread amongst the characters.They wanted to know what Aurelia planned to write, whether she would tell Vronsky or keep it a secret, and whether her writing would keep her away at night.Without giving it much thought, Aurelia told them that she would write at night so that Vronsky could have a say in shaping his own future.When someone asked how she planned to start, she realized she already had, really; her ideas were scribbled throughout her notebook.It was just like she’d told Oliver—she’d been letting the pieces of Vronsky’s new story come to her and now, apparently, it was time to put them together.
Throughout the next day, Aurelia’s mood shifted from excitement to nervousness and back again.It was a huge project to take on, but there was no way for her to back out now.
Just before midnight, as she walked through the living room in search of her notebook, Aurelia passed the coffee table with its collection of her copies of each of the novels from the Recommended Reads table.She paused when she spottedAnna Karenina.It was a dog-eared paperback that looked like it’d been through the wars; she’d read it at least three times and it was her favorite edition.She grabbed it along with her notebook, which was partially hidden under Fezz on the sofa, and brought them downstairs.
Once the characters had appeared and said their hellos, they left Aurelia and Vronsky to their work.Aurelia’s nervousness doubled as she felt many eyes watching her expectantly, but Vronsky’s eagerness brought her back to the task at hand.She took a breath and reminded herself:you can do this.
As Vronsky finished a conversation with Laurie, Aurelia sat down at her desk and began flipping through her copy ofAnna Kareninato find his final scene.She thought it would be helpful to start by reminding herself what, exactly, had happened to him at the end of his novel.
She didn’t notice that he was standing behind her until she heard his sharp intake of breath.
“What isthat?”he asked, scandalized.
Aurelia held it up, flipping to the front cover to show him.
“It’s a copy of your novel.”
“Thatis my book?What on earth have you done to it?”
“I’ve read it!”
“Reading involves turning pages, perusing each word.This looks like you dropped it into a lake, let a dog masticate it, and then threw it across a room.”
He reached out as if to touch the book, then pulled his hand back as if he were afraid of being contaminated by it.She was starting to feel self-conscious.It really was looking worse for wear, but wasn’t that a sign of a much-loved book?
“Well… I’ve read it a few times.And I like carrying a book in my bag or reading it over a meal or a cup of tea.”
“Yes, I believe I see evidence of tea.”He pointed to a dark stain along the bottom edge of the book.“And was a lake involved in this?”He pointed to a chunk of pages toward the front of the book that was rippled and raised.
“No, not a lake—just a bathtub.”
Vronsky quirked an eyebrow.“I generally prefer reading a newspaper in the bath for that very reason.It preserves one’s books should there be an accidental slip of the hand.”
