two steps at a time。 She tried to shake the image of Ms。 Morgan？s thong from her mind。 Who even
wore thongs； besides overeager thirteen…year…olds who liked them peeking out above their low…rise
jeans？
Tres pass？。
And whatever happened to boundaries？ It was as if Vanessa were the family cat； not an actual
human being。 She needed to be back in the real world； among people who respected her and
didn？t just act like she was a piece of furniture。 She？d been in the picture…perfect Hamptons for no
more than fifteen minutes； and she was already ready to leave。
Arriving at the third set of stairs； Vanessa climbed toward her attic suite。 At least she？d have
some privacy and maybe even a little luxury up here； right？ She reached the top step； and glanced
around； looking for a door she could shut。 But no； the stairs went straight into the attic…room；
where the pitched ceiling was so low； she had to duck to step inside。 What。The。 Fuck。
Taking heaving； pseudocalming breaths； she walked straight down the middle of the hot； stuffy
room？the only possible route she could take without ducking。 She dropped her bag on the floor
and tried to push the one small window open。 Stuck。 More than stuck。Painted shut。 Shit； shit； shit。
Vanessa stripped off her suddenly sweaty faded black T…shirt and unzipped her duffel。 She
pushed aside her hair trimmers and the yellow…and…black bumble…bee…striped one…piece bathing
suit that she？d swiped from Jenny？s underwear drawer； looking for her black ribbed cotton tank
top。
？Great； you found it。？
She turned to see Ms。 Morgan； now thankfully wearing a white sundress； standing at the top of
the attic stairs。 Good； she was dressed。Vanessa； unfortunately； was not。
This wasn？t quite the hot summer she？d had in mind。
？
Air Mail … Par Avion … July 10
Hey Dan！
How？s everything going in the city？ I loooooove Prague。 I？ve been spending my afternoons at
little outdoor caf？s； pretending to sketch but really checking out all the European boys？I mean
sights！ （There？s no harm in looking； right？） So really the only thing I miss is you and Dad。 Please
write back。 Don？t worry； you don？t have to send a novel； just a few lines。 Knowing you； you？ll
probably send a haiku。
Love you！
Jenny
reading is fundamental
Taking the rickety Strand steps two at a time； Dan made it from the main floor to the
basement…level employee lounge in about thirty seconds； by far a personal best。 He？d been pretty
down ever since last night； when he？d e home from reading the salon member e…mails with
Greg to find a yellow Post…it note on the refrigerator addressed to both him and Rufus。 It was
written in Vanessa？s weirdly boyish handwriting：Off to the Hamptons for work。 Will e…mail with
details。 Left half a turkey sandwich in fridge。 ？V Dan had opened up the fridge to find the
sandwich with another Post…it stuck to it。 It said simply：Eat me。 He couldn？t believe she was
just 。 。 。 gone。
He？d thrown himself into work all day； trying to keep his mind off of her； which had suddenly
pletely paid off while he was shelving outdated biographies。 The empty feeling inside of him
had instantly filled with excitement。 And hehad to share。
Dan shoved the door marked PRIVATE open with his shoulder； crying out at the top of his
lungs； ？Greg？ You in here？？
Of course it was totally unnecessary to shout； since the room was about the size of an elevator。
Greg was inside； digging in his cruddy locker。
？What？s up？？ Greg looked a little startled but smiled broadly； pushing his tortoiseshell frames
back up his long； slender nose。 He slammed the vomit…green locker door shut。 ？What？s going on？
I？m just knocking off for the day。？
？You？re never going to believe what I found。？ Dan bran…dished a tiny； tattered chocolate brown
hardback。 ？The second I saw it； I grabbed it off the shelf and ran down here。？ Technically；
employees weren？t supposed to leave the floor when they were on a shift？there wasn？t even an
only…in…an…emergency clause？but Dan had always lived by the rule that rules were made to be
broken。
？What is it？？ Greg asked excitedly； stepping over the low； wooden bench that was screwed to the
floor。
？Ta…da！？ Dan waved the book in the air above his head。 ？Just guess； first。Take a guess； please。？
？I can？t！？ Greg reached out playfully and tried to grab the book from him。
？No you don？t。？ Dan tucked the volume behind his back。
Greg reached around him； still trying for the book。 ？Let me see； e on。？
Dan brought the book in front of him； holding it faceup on his palms。 ？I hold in my hand an
out…of…print masterpiece 。 。 。 by one of the most important midcentury American novelists 。 。 。
published by a seminal San Francisco publishing house 。。。in 1952。。。。？
？Shut。？ Greg sat down on the bench； as though he might faint。 ？Up。？
？I？m serious；？ Dan confirmed。 ？The Poet？s Wake！By Sherman fucking Anderson fucking
Hartman。？
？That？s； like； the Holy Grail or something；？ Greg muttered in awe。 ？Can I see it？？ he asked； his
voice wavering。
？Just be careful。 Some of the pages are pretty moth…eaten； which is really tragic； but I guess we
can？t plain； I mean； given how hard it is to find a copy of this anywhere。 I？ve heard stories
about people unearthing them in old used bookshops in Midwest college towns； but right here in
New York City？ What are the odds？？
Greg placed his hands over Dan？s； enveloping both Dan？s fingers and the book within his grasp。
Hey； grabby。
？I？ve got a better idea actually； Dan；？ Greg whispered seriously； knitting together his fine； blond
eyebrows。 ？Why don？t you read me a passage？？
Dan shrugged。 Hedid have a pretty good reading voice。 He glanced at his watch。 He was
supposed to be upstairs； shelving books； but no one ever came into the employee lounge？he could
afford to spend a few minutes。 Besides； some things were just more important than work。
Clearing his throat； Dan flipped through the book to a random point and then began reading：
？Emily arrived some time after midnight。 She？d taken the train。 She looked the way he had
always pictured her； in his late…night fever dreams； when he？d thrown down his pen and pushed
his paper off of his desk； unable to write； unable to concentrate； unable to think about anything
other than her graceful neck； the curve of her hip。 She looked like the very idea of a woman； and
wasn？t that better； he wondered； than the reality of the situation？ Weren？t ideas； when all is said
and done； so superior to reality？？
Dan stood in silence； still cradling the tattered volume reverentially； and Greg just sat there；
staring up at Dan the way you？d stare up at a plicated stained…glass window； or at someone
undressing in front of an apartment window； high above。
？It？s a crime；？ Dan muttered darkly。 ？How could this be out of print？？
？It is a crime；？ Greg agreed； standing and placing his hands on top of the book。 Dan looked at his
wide…open brilliant green eyes behind the lenses of his chunky glasses。 ？Thank goodness there are
people like us to keep things like this alive。？
？You？re right。？ Dan n