It's a Waverly Life (28 page)

Late the next morning, Jake and I left my apartment hand in hand. I planned to spend the day showing him around San Francisco. I wanted to share with him what life was like there, what
my life
was like there.

I smiled to myself as I realized that I was no longer afraid to let him in.

We were nearly to the front door of the building when I stopped. “You know what? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Papa Bryson?”

I pushed him in the shoulder. “Not my dad, although now that I think of it…”

“I’d love to meet your dad. Show him how I can beat you in Scrabble.”

“I’ll send him an e-mail about it. Or maybe I’ll write on his wall. It’s only a matter of time before he’s on Facebook and tweeting too.”

Jake laughed, then pulled me toward him and kissed the top of my head. “So who do you want me to meet?”

I nodded toward the stairs. “Mr. Springfield…I mean Red…he lives on the second floor. He’s the nicest man. I don’t know how he does it, but he always seems to say exactly the right words, exactly when I need to hear them. I think you’d really enjoy meeting him. And I know he’d love to meet you.”

“You want to see if he’s home?”

“Sure.”

I’d never been to Red’s apartment. Actually, I’d never been to any apartment in my building besides mine. At the top of the stairs I pointed to 2A. “There it is. You think it’s too early?”

“It’s eleven thirty, Waverly.”

“Touché.” I stepped toward the door, then realized it was already open. Not just unlocked, but
open
, like twelve inches open.

I looked at Jake and raised my eyebrows. He did the same to me.

I knocked lightly.

“Red?”

No response.

“Red? Are you there? It’s me, Waverly.”

Still no response.

Slowly, I pushed the door fully open.

The apartment was in disarray. Part furnished, part boxes, part…empty.

“What the…” My voice trailed off. I stepped inside and raised my palms. “What’s going on?”

For a few moments we scanned the room in silence. Then we heard a voice.

“May I help you?”

We both turned around. In the front doorway stood a thin woman wearing a plain white shirt and jeans with her black hair pulled into a low bun. She was holding an empty cardboard box.

“Hi, um, do you know where Red is?”

“He’s gone,” she said quietly.

“Gone? Gone back to Missouri?”

She shook her head. “He passed away.”

I gasped. “What? When?”

“Last week.”

I put my hands over my mouth. “What happened?”

She sighed. “He went in his sleep. It was just his time.”

I held out my hand. “I’m Waverly Bryson. I live downstairs. This is my boyfriend, Jake McIntyre.”

She took my hand and smiled gently at both of us. “I’m Loretta Springfield. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Are you his…”

“Niece. He was my mom’s brother.”

I put my hands across my heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you just come in from Springfield?”

She shook her head. “I live here. My sister still lives in Springfield. She’s seven months along. He was so excited to have another baby in the family. Family was really important to him.”

“He mentioned that.”

She smiled at an unfinished puzzle on the kitchen table. “Oh, Uncle Red. Always with the puzzles.”

“Puzzles?”

“Oh yes. He
loved
puzzles. And word games. And lists. If he wasn’t working on a puzzle or a word game, he was making a list of things he wanted to see, things he wanted to do.”

I thought of how Red always had a crossword puzzle with him, about his clever way with words. My eyes followed hers to the kitchen table. Next to the puzzle sat a notepad with what appeared to be a to-do list.

In red pen.

Slowly, I stepped toward the table, Jake following. I stared at the paper.

Walk over the Golden Gate Bridge
Visit the Rose Garden
Buy flowers for Loretta

The words were in clear, neat handwriting…exactly like the mystery letters I’d received.

I blinked.

“This is his handwriting?”

Loretta smiled. “And he always used a red pen. That’s why they called him
Red
.”

“That’s why?”

She nodded. “It started when he first became an English teacher, back when my sister and I were just little kids. The principal started calling him that one day, and it stuck. Words and a red pen. That was Uncle Red for you.”

I looked up at her, dazed. “He always had the perfect words to help me see life more clearly. From the first day I met him, it was like he already knew me. I could never figure out how.”

“Oh yes, he was always keeping an eye out for others. He had a really bright future ahead of him, but when our dad died, he gave up everything so my mom wouldn’t have to raise us alone.”

“You mean he gave up teaching for you?”

She shook her head. “Baseball. He played in the minor leagues for a few years, the San Jose Giants, but then he took the teaching job so he could be closer to us.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

The San Jose Giants?

I reached for Jake’s hand.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

My mind began to race. My dad’s place…his team photo on the wall…the familiar eyes…my dad’s comment about his teammate’s love of word games…how they always looked out for each other…how they still kept in touch…

Red had been looking out for me this whole time.

My eyes filled with tears. I smiled at Loretta and tried not to cry. “Your uncle was a wonderful man,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I’m so sorry for my loss too.

“Waverly? Are you okay?” Jake said.

I nodded slowly.

“Are you sure?”

I squeezed his hand and nodded again. “It’s a beautiful world outside. Let’s go enjoy it.”

*
The End
*

My amazing sisters Monica and Michele were the first to read the initial early pages of
It’s a Waverly Life
, and I can’t thank them enough for gently (but firmly) suggesting I hit delete and start over. On the second try I also received much-needed enthusiasm and suggestions from trusted friends Alison Marquiss, Alberto Ferrer, Sarita Bhargava, Alexandra Kustow, Terri Sharkey, and Rob Sullivan, as well as my agents, Mary Alice Kier and Anna Cottle, none of whom were afraid to point out where the story needed work. When I finally had a finished draft, I was then awed by my editor, Christina Henry de Tessan, whose feedback and guidance helped me turn it into a novel of which I’m truly proud to be the author. She is legit, and her belief in my talent has me excited to continue the series.

Then of course there is my Mommy Dearest (yay Flo!), who has probably read this thing more times than I have. I hope she knows how much I appreciate her eagle eye for typos, not to mention all those marathon editing sessions we had over the phone. And Dad, thanks for just being there.

Despite the rocky start, writing
It’s a Waverly Life
turned out to be a much smoother process than writing
Perfect on Paper
. I realize that a major reason for that was because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing the first time around, so I learned a ton along the way. However,
It’s a Waverly Life
was also easier because I looked to friends and fans for inspiration, and they didn’t disappoint. Some of my favorite moments in this book happened in real life, and I’m so grateful to those who shared their hilarious stories with me. Others helped by offering their expertise, from clothing tips for men to sightseeing suggestions for a weekend in Atlanta. For all of it I offer a huge thank you to loyal readers Jendy Avens, Nicole Carpenter, Kara Dyko, Christine Le, Ciara O’Connell, Michelle Potthoff, and Kathleen Riley, and to friends Lindsay Barnett, Lauren Battle, Billy Burkoth, Geno Calixto, Donnalynn Civello, Christina Cox, Liz Doogan, Annie Flaig, Lauren Grant, Dave “Davio” Irving, Siobhan Jones, Bill Kimball, Steph Loehr, Sean Lynden, Kara Mele, Greg Miliotes, Dustin Moore, Luke Morey, Nate Prodromou, Gerun Riley, Meg Russell, Bridget Serchak, Amy Shapiro, Jessica Silverstein, James Snavely, Kristin “Lombo” Sperling, Ithti Toy Ulit, Martha West, and Chris Zaharias. You’ve all made me laugh out loud at one point or another, and I hope to return the favor in this book.

One last thing: Words can’t express how grateful I am to Alex Carr at Amazon for making all of this happen. Waverly Bryson may have Red Springfield looking out for her, but I have Alex, and I feel just as lucky!

Maria Murnane abandoned a successful career as a public-relations executive to pursue a more fulfilling life as a novelist and inspirational speaker. Her own “story behind the story” is an entertaining tale of the courage, passion, and perseverance required to get her first novel,
Perfect on Paper
, published. She graduated with high honors in English and Spanish from the University of California-Berkeley, where she was a Regents’ and Chancellor’s Scholar. She also holds a master’s degree in integrated marketing communications from Northwestern University. She lives today in New York City. For more information about her books, her speaking engagements, and her consulting services, please visit
www.mariamurnane.com
.