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It was strange to feel all those separate worlds and stories spinning through the air of the newly revitalized home.
Ella flung open the door to the living room of The Copperfield House, where, to her incredible surprise, she discovered Danny, Anna, and their grandfather, Bernard Copperfield, seated at the bench in front of the baby grand piano. The three of them turned to glance her way, surprised at how chaotically she’d entered the room.
“Mom? Are you okay? You look freaked out,” Danny said. He then lifted a glass of juice and sipped it evenly.
“Oh. Sure. Yeah.” Ella tried to breathe normally and finally managed to smile at her father. “Hi, Dad.” She stepped toward him and kissed the tiny piece of skin above the whiskers of his cheek. “Quite a party going on for you over there.”
Bernard, who wore a flannel shirt and a pair of old jeans, chuckled knowingly. “Your sister stopped by my office this afternoon to ask me a final time to make an appearance.”
“I take it you’re not up for it?” Ella asked, surprised at how good it was to see his face again. Like Greta, he looked healthier than he had back in April.
“I’ve avoided those mean-spirited literary types for over twenty-five years,” Bernard affirmed. “I don’t need to go over there so that they talk my ear off about whether or not James Joyce is relevant in the modern age or blah blah blah.”
Danny tossed his head back, cackling at his grandfather’s joke. Even Ella felt herself smile.
“To be honest with you, I think the book will sell better if you don’t go,” Anna pointed out. “The fact that you’re so elusive makes people even more interested in you and your story. People love a thing they can’t understand.”
“You have a point,” Danny offered.
Bernard rolled his eyes back playfully and stretched his fingers across the keys. He then began to play, tinkling across the keys as he made up a song on the spot. “I don’t give a damn about book sales. I don’t give a damn about press.”
Ella snorted. “Don’t play too loudly. Someone over there is in charge of social media. If Julia gets wind of this, you’ll be on a million phone screens in a split-second.”
“I hardly understand what any of that means,” Bernard said, his eyes twinkling. He then stopped his playing quickly so that the piano hummed in front of them. “That said, I do hope you’re right, Anna. I know that Julia’s publishing house is very important to her and that every book sale keeps our family going. And heck, we worked hard on editing that book this summer. I’m grateful that the book is out in the world. I’m grateful that people will read it and perhaps understand me if only a little bit. I just don’t like the idea of hobnobbing and bootlicking. That’s all.”
Ella sighed and rubbed her stomach, which was clearly void of snacks from the food table. “I have to get back to the party. I left Laura high and dry at the guest table. You three take care of yourselves over here, okay?”
Bernard nodded and again flung into a piano tune. Danny sipped his juice and gave his mother a genuine smile. Perhaps Ella was wrong. Perhaps she didn’t need to be worried about Danny. Perhaps that single hospital visit had been enough to put the fear of God in him for good.
Back at the party, Alana and Julia stood off to the side with raised wine glasses and chatted, their lips flashing open to reveal their white and perfect teeth. It was not lost on Ella that Julia and Alana were more traditionally beautiful than she was. Sure, Alana was the ex-model of the family, but Julia had always been similarly stunning— just more bookish.
“Ella! Where’s your drink?” Julia waved Ella over and squeezed her elbow as Alana fetched a glass of red wine from a passing server.
“The party seems to be going well?” Ella asked, holding the stem of her wine glass.
“Oh, better than I ever expected,” Julia reported. Under her breath, she added, “I’m grateful for that gorgeous sunset. People are posting so much on their social media channels. There’s a hashtag going around called #WhereIsBernard? Maybe it’s better that Dad decided not to drop by.”
Ella laughed inwardly, remembering what Anna had said little more than a minute before. “I think this would overwhelm him, anyway.”
“You’re right,” Alana offered. “He’s usually just overwhelmed by his family. An entire literary crowd would be too much.”
“Oh my gosh! Ella Copperfield?” An unfamiliar voice rang out from the crowd. With the voice came a dark-eyed woman in a perfectly cut suit and a bob that scanned the tops of her ears.
“It’s me?” Ella felt foolish and unsure.
The woman’s smile was enormous. “To be honest with you, I was hoping you’d be here.”
“I’m so glad?” Ella had no idea who this person was.
The woman stuck out her hand and shook Ella’s. “My name is Bunny Grimm. I’ve been a music journalist withRolling Stoneforever.”
“Oh!” Ella recognized that name. Bunny Grimm had stuck her neck out for Will and Ella’s band, Pottersville, countless times over the years. Once, she’d even given one of their albums a ten-point rating, which was the highest-possible rating that the magazine offered. “Gosh, of course. I guess I haven’t seen you in, what? Fifteen years?”
Bunny nodded. “So glad you remember. That party in LA, right?”
Ella’s eyes widened at the memory of the iconic night where she’d met Dolly Parton and then sobbed drunkenly to Will about how it was the “best moment of her life.”
“What are you doing here, Bunny?” Ella sputtered.
