No one laughed then. Not even a giggle.
“Now let me introduce our first guest. And I know many of you are big fans of her books too, so if you need to applaud, go ahead. Nothing would be more fitting. It is my great honor to introduce the Edgar Award–winning author of the Skulls & Skullduggery series, Jessa Charming.”
The crowd applauded, a few even cheered, and Rainy joined in. The woman came to the podium and shook Ms. Kendell’s hand.
Rainy studied her. Dressed up, Jessa Charming was pretty in a bookish way, although she didn’t look particularly comfortable in her dark gray pantsuit and high heels.
“Don’t be fooled by the outfit,” Jessa Charming said. “I had to buy this since I was told yoga pants were unacceptable attire for a funeral.”
The crowd laughed again.
“Although, considering it’s a writer’s funeral, maybe it would’ve been all right? Anthony?” Jessa glanced over at him, pale and silent in his somber black suit.
“Too formal. Try sweatpants,” he called back. Another soft ripple of laughter.
Even from the back of the atrium, Rainy could see that despite the joke, Anthony was struggling. He sat stiffly and his clothes lookedlarge on him, like he’d lost too much weight too quickly. But still, he carried on, sitting up straight and doing his best to keep it together, though, she imagined, he was ready to fall apart.
Jessa continued her eulogy.
“Some of you know I dedicated my first book to Rainy March,” she said. “When I turned fifteen, I was going through a hard time. My grandmother, who was always trying to get me off my phone, gave me a book calledMy Buttered Toast Waits for Nobody.If you haven’t read it, it’s about Rainy March’s adventures inThe Woman in White,the famous mystery novel by Wilkie Collins. Maybe because it rained—a gift from Rainy?—that weekend and I had a cold, I was bored enough to try reading the stupid book, if only to make my sweet grandmother happy. And a funny thing happened. I enjoyed the book—a lot. A lot more than I expected to. I blinked and I was already on page one hundred. But then…when I finished the book, I realized I kind of wanted to readThe Woman in White.Women kidnapped and forced into asylums? A ghostly figure walking around in all white? Sign me up. I told Grandma I was a little curious about it, and she gleefully ordered a copy to be delivered to my house. And so two days later, a brick landed on my doorstep.”
Another laugh, which Rainy didn’t understand.The Woman in Whitewas nearly eight hundred pages long. Calling it a brick wasn’t a joke at all but a fair and accurate description.
“I was this close to returning it,” Jessa said. “Or keeping it and reading the Spark Notes. But Rainy March had whetted my appetite. I started reading it. Try to imagine convincing any fifteen-year-old to read an eight-hundred-page novel published in 1860. Miracle, right? But Rainy March had done it. And the crazy thing was…I read the whole book. Took a week, but I did it. And I loved it. My first Gothic mystery novel. Now I write them. Maxine Blake created Rainy March, but Rainy March created Jessa Charming. Literally, I mean, and I’m using ‘literally’ literally since I have a feeling Maxine is listening. My pen name, Charming, is an anagram of Marching.”
A soft ripple of delight passed through the crowd.
“For her entire career, Maxine was a fierce advocate for books and the freedom to read. She said many times that those who lovedbooks and those who wanted to ban them have one single thing in common—we all believe reading a book can change you. It’s only that the book banners consider this a bug, and Maxine—and likely everyone in this room—sees it as a feature.”
After another round of applause, Jessa continued.
“I’m sure nearly everyone here was changed by one of Maxine’s books. Did anyone here, like me, become a writer because you were inspired by a Book Witch story? Raise your hand, please.”
Rainy was astonished when six hands shot up.
“Wow,” Jessa said. “Let’s try another. If you became a librarian or an English teacher because of the Book Witch series…please raise your hand.”
Fifty hands or more shot into the air. Rainy gasped softly to herself.
“Amazing,” Jessa breathed. “Okay, hands down. Let’s do one more. And let’s get loud. If you read a book you were too scared to read until Rainy March convinced you to try it…please stand up.”
Everyone, all three hundred or more people gathered in that library, stood. When everyone standing realized everyone else was standing, they all applauded, cheered, laughed.
Jessa gazed out onto the assembly and nodded her approval.
“I hope you’re seeing this, Maxine,” she said, glancing up to the heavens. “I hope you’re seeing this, Rainy.”
Rainy whispered, “I am.”
—
Jessa Charming finishedher eulogy, and then Nancy Kendell returned to the podium.
“Thank you, Jessa. Now, before our last speaker, I have a special announcement. Before her passing, Maxine Blake and her husband, Anthony, began work on a very special project, called the Pilcrow House for Young Writers. Currently under construction, Pilcrow House will be a haven for underrepresented writers of fiction from diverse backgrounds to live and work in community. The residencies will range from one to six months, and all writers will receive full stipends to cover all living expenses. Pilcrow House will open to its first writers in May of 2026.”
Rainy clapped along with the crowd, though her stomach sank at the thought of all those guests in her house. She made a mental note to warn Mrs. Turner they were going to need more towels, when she suddenly remembered…they weren’t actually talking about her Pilcrow House. Her house didn’t exist here.
Ms. Kendell raised her hands to bring silence and order back to the assembly.
