Chapter One
This is the most important day of Caleb Rye’s life. It’s supposed to be, at any rate.
Tonight he’ll read from his debut novel, fulfilling a lifelong dream. Only he’s always pictured it in a sold-out auditorium: Caleb Rye in conversation with a National Book Award winner. Instead he stands in the children’s area of his local bookstore. A beloved institution, yes, but hardly the setting to launch a luminary literary career.
He surveys the small crowd. Can a crowd be small? This group of people, while not a throng, has packed the cramped space. Yes, he decides, they qualify as a crowd. He hides a smile.
Biz, his literary agent, worked diligently to manage his expectations. Told him stories of authors ranging from Terry Pratchett to Stephen King who ended up reading to empty chairs.
Caleb’s chairs are all filled. Two rows of folding chairs that the booksellers set up in the spot usually occupied by a train table and a display of board books, now shoved against the wall. He scans the faces looking back at him and recognizes several—a handful of his students’ parents, the guy who runs the sandwich shop across the street, a few fellow faculty members.
He glances down at the lurid red and yellow cover of his novel, and heat crawls up his neck. He’d pushed for a more sophisticated cover but lost that argument.
Biz brings a glass of tap water to the small lectern and places it beside the novel. “You doing okay?”
Her concern embarrasses him. He’s being ungrateful and petulant; Biz got him this opportunity. It might not be where he wants to end up but it’s a place to start.
She gives him a close look as if she knows what he’s thinking. “This is a good thing, Caleb. This book has done better on pre-orders than anyone expected.”
“I’m excited,” he says in a tone that conveys zero excitement.
Biz points her chin toward his wife. “A working writer who can support his family, that’s the dream.”
As she moves off to the side, his attention stays on Emmaline. His sweet English rose.
She doesn’t occupy one of the padded metal chairs. Instead she stands in front of the biography and memoir shelves, her palms pressed into the small of her back, her belly straining against the fabric of her black maternity dress.
Biz is right. This book is bringing in a much-needed infusion of cash at the precise right time. But genre fiction? He never imagined.
Emmaline catches his eye, mouths ‘love you,’ and rubs one hand over her stomach as she beams at him.
His heart quickens and he grins back at her. He pulls his attention away from his wife and back to the bookseller, who is now mid-introduction:
“… Foggy Bottom’s very own Caleb Rye, an English teacher at Foggy Bottom Preparatory Academy, will be reading tonight from his debut novel, The Payback. Copies are available at the cash register, and Caleb has graciously agreed to sign them for you.” She steps back and gestures toward him.
There’s a smattering of polite applause. He adjusts his eyeglasses, which he technically doesn’t need for reading, but which he’s convinced make him look writerly. Then he clears his throat and opens the glossy hardcover to the scene he’d decided to read.
He begins, falling into the familiar task of reading aloud to a group of listeners. Only this isn’t one of the classics he assigns to his sophomore English classes. These are his words. More or less.
The plan was simple but not crude. Elegant, actually. The man had spent four long years running through every detail, accounting for every possible hitch or problem. Reiterating until there were no problems left. By the time he emerged from the sunless cell where they’d held him, it was foolproof. Inevitable.
He hiked through the densely forested mountains, skirting the roads and towns, until he reached the open-pit silver mines. Then he waited under a moonless sky for the night guards to grow tired and careless.
He glances up to gauge the audience’s reaction. They perch on the edge of their seats, leaning forward. Rapt.
He’s dreamed of this moment for years. Pictured the rush of knowing he’s created a world and pulled others into its vortex. Imagined the warm sensation of satisfaction and pride that would wash over him. He never thought it would feel so cheap.
The bookstore sells its entire stock of The Payback to eager would-be readers. Caleb scribbles his name over and over until his hand cramps. Both the bookseller and his agent assure him that selling out is rare and a great sign. Emmaline’s eyes shine and her cheeks flush with pride at this news.
Biz insists on taking them out for a late dinner. In a concession to Emmaline’s third-trimester cravings, they celebrate over French fries and soft serve ice cream at Harry’s Grill.
Caleb and Biz watch in bemused horror as Emmaline dips her fries into the ice cream before eating them.
She catches them gawking and laughs playfully. “I could go full When Harry Met Sally.”
“Please don’t,” he teases her back.
“Imagine if your book gets made into a movie.” She’s wide-eyed at the idea.
