Entitled

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I awake confused. Rather than being on a Bookshelf, I’m face-up on a coffee table. There are no Staffers to turn on the lights, no friends to recount their nightly exploits, no drooling kids to threaten my pages. Then I remember I am in a home. The tranquility is deafening.

A large Male Human in a bathrobe appears in the living room carrying a cup in one hand and a phone in the other. He sits on the sofa and pulls a large coffee table Book, überDesign, the essence of minimalist living, towards him. I shriek when he places his cup on the Book’s cover. Coasters are made for a reason, people. The vibrating phone draws his attention. His large thumbs tap on it and he sits back, pleased with himself. When he reaches for his mug, überDesign exhales with relief.

“I hope that cup wasn’t too hot,” I say.

“Who are yoü?” überDesign asks.

“The Serendipity of Snow,” I say.

“Yoü look all new and shiny,” überDesign says. “Did Katie büy yoü?”

“My Reader calls herself Katie? She looks like a Katie,” I say. Not that I’ve known any Katies. But if I did, I’m sure they’d look like her.

The phone vibrates again. The Human looks at it and grins. He gets up and leaves the room, taking his phone, his cup and his self-importance with him. In Minnesota in the 1800s, there were no phones. I suspect people got more done back then.

“Who’s he?” I ask.

“He is the ünReader,” überDesign says. “Her üntidy hüsband. Always clüttering things üp. I coüld help them get rid of all their stüff, if they woüld just read me.”

I don’t think this apartment has too much “stüff”, so I leave the conversation to hang like the ümlauts over his vowels.

Katie enters the living room, carrying her bag. Moments later the ünReader re-appears.

“Seen my watch?” he asks.

“Probably on the mantel,” Katie says.

“Oh, right. Thanks,” he says.

The ünReader picks up a brown leather watchstrap attached to a round brass face. Roman numerals mark the six, nine and twelve. A window for a date marks the three. A crack in the crystal marks the seven.

“Remember when I gave that to you?” Katie asks.

“Best third anniversary gift I ever got,” he says, smiling at her while he fastens his watch.

“Second,” Katie says.

“Oh, right,” the ünReader mutters, “I meant second.”

“I’m going out, I’ll be back in a few hours,” Katie says. She gives him a quick kiss then looks around the room. Her eyes fall on me, but instead of cradling me lovingly in her hand, where I belong, she plunges me into a large black bag. Another Book lands on me.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’m The Serendipity of Snow.”

“Louisiana Sunrise. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Ma’am? I’m not old enough to be a ma’am. I must sound wise.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Book Club,” he says, with a drawl that would be at home south of the Mason-Dixon Line. “I do believe it’s at Naria’s house this month.”

I would feel more positive about a Book play date if I weren’t so cramped. Keys land on me, cold, hard and sharp. Then Katie zips up her bag, sealing us in. The keys bounce on me with every step so I tighten my fibers in self-defense and tell myself to focus on the positive: Book Club.

After more jostling, mercifully the movement stops. The zipper opens and Katie removes me and Louisiana Sunrise, placing us on a stranger’s coffee table before following a woman down a hallway.

“Hey, y’all,” I hear. “I’m Louisiana Sunrise.”

“Me too,” I hear from behind me, a phrase repeated around the table.

I open my cover to get a better view of my surroundings and see five copies of Louisiana Sunrise circling me. “I’m The Serendipity of Snow. What’s your story?”

I hear of a family descending into debt, surrounded by theft and political corruption. “We’re about affairs, lies, bribes and deceit,” says one Louisiana Sunrise. Sounds like just another day at the Bookstore to me. “Then one morning, in our chapter four, a dead body is dropped into Lake Pontchartrain. That’s our inciting incident.”

“We’re a great story, but my Reader, Lily, barely cracked my spine,” Lily’s Book says.

“I should be called Louisiana Lacquer,” another Louisiana Sunrise says. “Every time my Reader, Rebecca, picked me up, she’d decide she needed to do her nails instead, and use me as a manicure tray. I have nail polish all over my backside. It makes me look so cheap.”

Katie returns to the living room carrying two glasses. Another woman brings a bottle of wine. The others follow, each with their own glass.

“You know, back in the Bookstore, we dreamed of coming to a Book Club, having Readers discuss our stories. I never thought I’d actually be at one,” I say, practically bouncing on the table.

“Calm down,” Rebecca’s Book says. “They’ll notice you moving.”

Everyone takes a seat around the coffee table. Empty glasses are filled. As if pre-programmed, all the women cross their legs, right over left.

I’m excited. I have a front row seat at a real Book Club discussion: the cut and thrust of debate, where themes are analyzed and character traits dissected. It’s going to be great. Here we go.

“This wine is amazing,” Lily says. “Napa?”

“Sonoma,” Naria says. “A new winery I was consulting for.”

“It’s delicious. How’s the job hunt going, Naria?” Katie asks.

“I have an interview this week for a position I’d actually take,” Naria says.

“They’d be lucky to have you,” Katie says.

“I’ll tell them you said so,” Naria says with a smile.

“When do they start talking about the story?” I ask.

“Sometimes never,” Naria’s Book says.

“But aren’t we read, then discussed? That’s how Book Clubs work,” I say.

“That’s what I thought too, honey,” Naria’s Book says. “Until she brought me to the last Book Club as her choice for this month. I sat for two whole hours listening to them talk about real estate.”

“That can’t be right. This is Book Club. They love us here,” I say. These Books from down south are simply wrong.

“Should we wait for Madeeha and Grace?” Katie asks.

“Not coming,” Naria says.

“Again?” Katie asks. “There used to be, what, eight of us?”

“Twelve when I started,” Lily says.

The women look uncomfortably at each other, then at their wine glasses. They drink in silence.

“Well, someone begin,” Lily says.

Katie asks, “So, what did we think of Louisiana Sunrise?” I grin, proud that my Reader started the conversation.

After a lengthy silence Naria says, “I liked it. The book reflected race in a believable way. And I liked being drawn into the backroom dealings.”

“Did you get confused by all the lying?” Lily asks. Naria shakes her head No. “What about you, Rebecca, did the lying bother you?”

“There wouldn’t be much of a story without it,” Rebecca says. “Anyway, lying is just a part of life.”

“That’s pretty cynical,” Katie says.

“That’s reality,” Rebecca says. “You’ve never told a lie?”

Katie looks into her glass.

“There are lies and then there are lies,” Lily says.

“En France, we don’t care,” says another woman with an accent. “You Americans are so uptight.”

“That’s Veronique,” her Book says. “Brings up France every chance she gets.”

Rebecca examines her nails. “Well, no one would call you uptight,” she says.

“Lily, what do you think?” Katie asks.

“I found it confusing. The unreliable narrator was a little too unreliable for me. I stopped following the trail of lies. In the end, I stopped caring.” Looking proud of her comment, Lily returns to her glass of wine.

“Do you hear her?” Lily’s Book says. “She only read my first 80 pages. She talks like she actually cared about me.”

The conversation morphs from Louisiana to vacations, workouts that get you in shape for vacations, and how to save for vacations in an expensive real estate market.

“Time for cake,” Naria says.

That’s it for their debate? But they haven’t discussed the Book! They’re meant to be exploring plot, themes, pacing, twists, use of language. Literary Nature is much more interesting than Human Nature.

Veronique tops up everyone’s glass. Naria returns carrying a cake that oozes with the aroma of maple. They all ask for a small piece, but none complain about Naria’s generous portions. Crumbs fall on Rebecca’s Book. He tries to shake them from his cover.

“Stop it, they may see you,” Naria’s Book says.

“They’re focused on their cake,” Rebecca’s Book says. “Besides, my Human never paid attention to me when she was meant to be reading me. I reckon she won’t notice me now.”

After long minutes of murmurs about the quality of the cake, Katie asks, “How about a first-time novelist for our next Book Club?”

Is that me she’s talking about? I puff out my cover in case anyone is looking.

“Does it have s*x in it?” Veronique asks.

“Not so far. I’ve only read the first few chapters. It’s called The Serendipity of Snow. It’s set in Minnesota, in the late 1800s. I suspect the characters will be bundled up against the weather most of the time,” Katie says.

“That can be sexy too, you know, unbundling,” Veronique says.

“Is that all you think about?” Lily turns to the others. “Maybe it’s time to read something with an environmental message. Because if we don’t do something soon . . . ”

“What, you’re going to sell your suv and stop flying to Hawaii every Christmas?” Rebecca asks, reaching for the wine bottle.

“We need the suv. For our children,” Lily says, looking around the room. “You can’t put a price on a child’s safety.”

Naria puts down her plate, opens my cover and glances at my first page.

“We’ve never read a first-time author,” Katie says.

“From Louisiana to Minnesota. Why not?” Naria says.

Being the center of attention is making my fibers warm. I guess Best Sellers get used to it, or maybe they just have thicker paper.

Naria hands me back to Katie, who turns me over and reads my back, aloud. I can feel my cover flush.

This charming voice of a new author transports us to a time long past. In small-town Minnesota, a determined young girl, Agnes Lundberg, defies social expectations to travel further than she imagined, only to arrive at a place she never planned. Written with affection for a way of living more than a century ago, The Serendipity of Snow explores the power of curiosity and the unrelenting pull of love that drives us all.

“You’re hosting next month, so your choice,” Naria says.

“I think you’re in, honey,” Lily’s Book says.

“Don’t expect much,” Naria’s Book says. “Your Human will read you because she suggested you. And she’ll like you, because she suggested you. If they actually discuss you at all, it will be short. They always drift off to other topics. Like today.”

“This really is just a wine club with a Book excuse,” Rebecca’s Book says.

I have so much to learn.