The Book That Matters Most Read Free Page A

thought almost longingly of her new sheets, pink flowered ones. The kind a single woman would have. That’s what she’d thought when she bought them. When Jim moved out, she’d thrown out the pewter ones that had covered their marital bed. Marital bed! She sounded positively Victorian. It was Jim who liked serious linens, pewter and charcoal andtaupe. If he knew she’d stuffed the sheets in the trash instead of donating them to Travelers Aid or some other worthy cause, he’d be furious. He was the kind of person who actually went through their garbage and rescued stale bread—“What about the birds?”—and broken appliances—“What about the tech school?” — and scraps of cardboard—“What about recycling, Ava?” She used to find it endearing, this need of his to make the planet a better place. When the children were little they’d all four go off armed with buckets and clean up the little beach on the bay or the rundown park on the corner. And Ava had to admit that it had felt good, her small family doing these small things together. But then his good deeds got larger and more time-consuming, and Ava often felt left behind.
    Ava lifted the plastic glass—it really was tiny, wasn’t it?—and discovered it was already empty. One more, she thought as she refilled it again, and then home to my own bed. Just as quickly as that thought came to her, she refuted it. The last thing she needed was to be in bed, alone. No, goddamn it. She’d begged to be here. She was desperate for it. Even the smell of books that permeated the room felt familiar and comforting. And all these faces, looking open and ready for something. She needed most of all, the comfort of people who wanted nothing more than to sit together and talk about books.
    Cate was asking everyone to find a seat, reminding them that there would be a chance to socialize after the meeting. Her eyes landed on Ava, and Cate looked so pleased that Ava was here that Ava had no choice but to smile back at her, shove a cracker with a slab of Havarti on it into her mouth, and take a seat.
    â€œWelcome,” Penny said, and she patted Ava’s arm with her liver-spotted hand.
    To her surprise, Ava saw that there were two men in the group. One had on a flannel shirt and one of those porkpie hats every man under thirty wore these days. He also had long sideburns, something Ava hadn’t seen since her college days. The other was older, Ava’s age, wearing a lime green fleece vest and worn Topsiders without socks despite the winter weather. His hair was blond turning to gray, and he had an aging boyish face that had probably melted hearts once. He sat twirling the wedding band on his ring finger, looking down at it, then away.
    Ava sighed and ate her Havarti, a cheese she’d always thought tasted like absolutely nothing.
    â€œWe’d like to welcome two new members to our group,” Cate was saying. “John and Ava.”
    Heads seemed to swivel in unison to look at them.
    â€œJohn?” Cate said. “Do you want to tell us a little about yourself?”
    The man in the lime green fleece vest shot to his feet, like he’d been called on in school.
    â€œSure, sure,” he said, and he really did sound affable, like a nice guy. “I live in that building that used to be a school? Over on John Street?” He smiled ruefully. “Moved there just a couple of months ago, from East Greenwich. See . . . uh . . . well, my wife died last year and I’m trying to get out more, you know. Try new things. Meet new people.”
    Everyone nodded sympathetically.
    â€œSo here I am,” he said with a laugh. “Nervous,” he added, and sat down.
    â€œWe are so happy to have you here,” Cate said in her super nice person voice. “Ava?”
    â€œWhat?” Ava said, caught off guard.
    â€œCan you tell us a little about yourself?” Cate