Page 38 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“Two? Ha!” Erwin throws his head back and laughs in disbelief. “You two are little mice who walked into a snake’s nest, kid.” He turns to Lewis with a smile. “I’d tell you I’m disappointed in you, but I honestly didn’t expect anything less. This James Joyce alone? It’s worth about twenty-five hundred at first glance. Don’t believe a single word out of this crook’s mouth.”

Slack-jawed, Knox and I look at Lewis, whose eyes are on Erwin. Through clenched teeth, he grumbles, “You know, you’re getting to be really bad for business.”

“You’re bad for your own business,” Erwin barks back. “Come with me, kids. Let’s look at what you got, and I’ll see if I can help you find someone to buy these from you. Unfortunately, these are out of my price range, so it won’t be me.” And with our books in hand, he walks off to his booth.

Knox and I turn to look at each other in confusion, until he shrugs and follows.

“Alright, so these right here will have a better shot at being sold separately, rather than in a group.” He examines one of the books a little closer, inspecting it for imperfections, I suppose.

“Which one of you set up that sale, by the way? Did you even do any research?”

I shoot Knox a look, and he blushes, looking away.

“I googled,” he replies, a bit defensive.

Erwin scoffs and shakes his head. “Google. Pfft!” After taking a few moments to carefully inspect the books, he straightens and looks at us both for a beat. “What are your names?” as if only now realizing he has no idea who we are.

My business brain wakes once more, hand shooting out to shake his with confidence. “Carlota Veracruz. Nice to meet you.” He takes my hand, grip firm in a way that makes me think he had a different career before entering the world of rare book trades.

“And you are…?” he asks Knox, brows raised as he shakes his now.

“I’m Knox Riddick, sir,” and for some reason the way he says it makes him look so young: nervous like a seventeen-year-old meeting the parents of his date for homecoming.

“Neither one of you knows anything about rare books, obviously. So how the hell did you come upon these copies?” His eyes bounce between us.

“I, uh, got these from my father. I think he was pretty involved in the community and in restoration.”

Understatement of the year, by the looks of the mess he left in his apartment.

“You think?” He hums, surveying our books with ultimate care. “What’s your father’s name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Walter Adams.”

Erwin’s head snaps up to meet Knox’s face, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“You’re Walter’s boy? I’m so glad he finally brought you around. He talks about you all the time. Where is he? I haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks. Started to get worried he’d finally gotten the balls to take that trip to Scotland and forgot all about us. He kept saying he hated it here, but stayed because he wanted to be close to you, so.” Erwin shrugs.

As if in slow motion, Knox’s chest deflates and his face falls, paling under the fluorescent lights of the hotel ballroom. All I can see is him as the shoe I was expecting to drop for the past week and a half finally does with a loud, metaphorical clunk.

“Wait. You said was. Is he done doing restorations, then? Because I had this one book I was hoping he could help me with and…” I barely hear Erwin’s voice as he rambles on—I’m too focused on Knox. Because this is it. This is the moment he realizes his father is really gone.

He wobbles, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t taken a breath in a while.

Not able to stand it any longer, I reach for him. I run my hand down his leather-clad arm, searching for his hand, winding my fingers through his before squeezing tight.

Ice-blue eyes search for mine, panic written all over Knox’s face.

I’m here, I try to tell him. You’re not alone. I’m here.

A wave of relief crashes over me as I feel his hand squeeze mine back, his face twisted with a combination of pain and gratitude. His stance relaxes just a bit, his eyes soften infinitesimally. Still, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I need to get him out of here now.

“…reached out to him, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”

Eyes still on me, I turn to Erwin. “Would you mind giving us a second? We’ll be right back.”

As if finally realizing something is wrong, Erwin nods, expression filled with concern.

“I’ll be here.”