Page 22 of The Library of Second Chances
I think what I’m trying to say is that we both need to trust our swings when we step up to the plate. This is the book I reread every time I need a boost. Thought maybe you could use it too.
Signed,
Gatsby’s Ghost
P. S. I hope you like baseball, haha.
Lucy smiled. Luckily for Gatsby’s Ghost, she used to spend nights snuggled in next to her dad in his old recliner watching baseball. He’d loved sport analogies too. She still remembered how he’d yell “batter up!” in the mornings to let her know it was time to come downstairs because her breakfast was ready.
A warmth spread over Lucy as she realized Gatsby’s Ghost had seen what she wrote in her last note, and instead of viewing her as weak, he wanted to encourage her to keep trying. She’d have to be mentally tough to take on Logan Lancaster. If he had a confidence issue, it was from being too far on the other end of the spectrum from her. What was it Bob had called him? A fixer. He probably didn’t need a book like this to make him feel more confident. He had a natural swagger that was as irritating as it was magnetizing. She needed to focus on the irritating part. She needed to be immune to his charm and those green eyes. She slid the book into her purse, vowing to read it as soon as she had some quiet moments at the store today. She could use all the confidence she could get.
The town had brought Logan in because they meant business, but she wasn’t going down that easy. This was her island too. Four generations of Sullivans had lived here. She wasn’t going to let some outsider come in and tell her whatherisland needed. That it wasn’t good enough the way it was. She wondered if he’d ever gone back to the little town in Wisconsin he was from and tried to push his ideas of so-called progress onthem.
After Lucy closed up the library and opened her store for the day, she logged on to her computer.Mornings tended to be slow until the tourists headed into town for lunch. As she put out food for Lizzy and Alice, she wondered what Gatsby’s Ghost was facing that had him feeling like he was down to his final pitch. Was it work or personal? It had been vulnerable of him to share that he, too, was struggling, and if the dog-eared copy of the book he’d left was any indication, he’d needed a confidence boost now and then also.
Maybe his business was in danger of closing, or he had a big proposal out that he needed to win to make his quarterly sales goal. She tried picturing what a man who loved both literary history and baseball did for a living. Maybe he was a professor in town for summer break who rented a beach house so he could write his novel. Maybe that was his do or die situation—he was on a deadline for his book.
Her stomach flip-flopped as she remembered what that had been like. That feeling, however uncomfortable, had paled in comparison to the gut punch of finding out the book wasn’t even being published. She’d given up so many weekends and nights to sit at her computer and write and then edit, letting the rest of her life basically pass her by, only to have nothing to show for it in the end. It was part of why she’d fallen so hard and fast for Carter. She’d been swept away by the idea of settling down with him and having a family of her own where she could find purpose.
Having gone down the Carter rabbit hole once already today with Missy, Lucy decided to take a look at the book from Gatsby’s Ghost while the store was quiet. Normally, she wouldnever jump ahead in a book. She knew some of her customers liked to read the end first, but she’d never understood that. She loved letting the story unfold in its own time as she progressed through the pages. Now, however, she found she couldn’t resist the urge to flip through until she saw his familiar handwriting in the margins. What nuggets had he highlighted for her?
“Hesitation is the kiss of death. You might hesitate for just a nanosecond, but that’s all it takes. That one small hesitation triggers a mental system that’s designed to stop you. And it happens in less than—you guessed it—five seconds.”
She harumphed out loud to Lizzy, who had crawled into her lap. “So what? We’re supposed to make uninformed, impulsive decisions?” she asked the cat, who was now pawing at the book as if she, too, wanted to see what Gatsby’s Ghost had written.
“Your feelings don’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you DO.”
Yikes. Your feelings don’t matter? Gatsby’s Ghost certainly didn’t seem like the kind of robot who would identify with this passage, but there it was—underlined twice.
She flipped ahead, looking for more, finding herself disappointed in his latest suggestion. This was supposed to inspire her to be more confident?
“Yes, you can move mountains. Whatever is happening right now, this is it. This is your life. And it’s not going to begin again. You can’t change the past, but in five seconds you can change your future.”
He’d drawn an arrow in the margin next to the last sentence, tracing over it several times so it was bold and the page was indented from the effort. She read it again. Finally, something she could get behind. She’d add it to her journal later so she could repeat it in the mornings with her mantras.
Wanting to end on a high note, she closed the book and concentrated on petting the cat in her lap until she jumped down at the sound of the bells jingling on the front door, eager to greet their first customer of the day. The mayor poked in his head, as if he hadn’t fully committed to entering.
“Mayor, come on in.”
“Are you alone?” He looked toward the bookshelves that ran perpendicular to the wall on the right side of the store as if someone were hiding and might jump out at any moment.
Lucy tucked the book between her leg and the arm of the chair. “I am. Is everything okay?” As he shuffled toward her, she pointed to the other armchair. “Have a seat. Can I get you coffee? Tea? Water?”
“I’d take a cup of coffee if it’s not too much trouble.” He lowered himself into the armchair.
“I was just going to put on a pot.” It was a lie, but everyone in the South did it. You never wanted your guest to feel they were putting you out. “Let me get it started. Be right back.”
In the little kitchenette, Lucy fished a filter out of the drawer and added a few heaping spoonfuls of coffee inside it, then set the pot to begin. Taylor had given her a Keurig the previous Christmas, touting how quickly it could make coffee or tea on demand for her and her customers, but it still sat in its box on a shelf in the back. She didn’t mean to be ungrateful for the gift. It was very thoughtful. Lucy just didn’t want to speed up the process. Waiting for coffee to brew gave people time to chat or browse. This wasn’t a fast-food joint where she wanted to hustle people in and out the door.
She rejoined the mayor up front. “So is this a social visit or a political one?” She sat in the same chair she’d been reading in, turning slightly to her left to face him.
“Can’t it be both?” His friendly smile and easy demeanor had made him a shoo-in for mayor when he’d first run, and now he was a year into his second and final term before the town’s term limit would force him to pass the gavel to someone else.
She sighed. “Yes, of course. How are you? How are Mrs. Jenkins and Thomas?” Lucy had known the Jenkins family her entire life. Their son, Thomas, was her age and had often been in her classes growing up.
The mayor was beaming now. “Thomas and his wife are expecting a baby this Christmas. A grandchild! Talk about the best gift under the tree.”
“Congratulations.” Lucy was sure Thomas would make a wonderful father. He’d always been kind and seemed like someone who would relish being a parent, the same way hers had. “Please tell him I send my best.” Thomas had moved away for college and never come back, like many of her classmates. The lure of bigger cities seemed to call to everyone but her.
