Willa's first birthday present is a court order awarding Jess full parental rights and custody, which Chris has framed and hung next to the register at the shop. When people ask about it, Jess is told that he makes them buy three books before they get to hear the story.
"So yeah, my novel's selling great, by the way," Jess says.
"So write another one," Rory replies. The phone line always echoes when she calls nowadays; Jess pictures her on airplanes and Jeeps and taxi cabs, always in the middle of something, on her way to somewhere else. "It's been a few years. Time for the sophomore effort."
"When exactly do you think I have time to write? I do my real job in-between diapers as it is."
"Diapers," Rory repeats, with unfettered glee. Jess rolls his eyes. "Sorry, I just - I had to take a moment with that mental image, there. No, come on, are you telling me you don't already have something written? How many novels are sitting in your desk drawer right now? Be honest."
"Not that many," Jess grumbles, reaching down with one foot to gently steer Willa away from the air vent. She squawks at him, and crawls back over towards the television, where she proceeds to start hammering her toys together violently. "None of them are good, anyway. That's why they're in the drawer."
"You're too harsh on yourself. Just edit one of them and get it out there, you need to keep your reputation fresh."
"It's just hilarious how much writing advice I get from my friends who don't write," Jess says. "Really, I appreciate it."
"Hey," Rory says, "I know stuff. About writing."
"You know stuff about books, and journalism, neither of which are at all the same thing," Jess says, and Willa yells again, babbling at the top of her lungs. He likes to think this means she's agreeing with him.
"Oh my God," Rory says, laughing, "what are you doing to her?"
"She's got anger in her heart," Jess says, crouching down next to Willa, who promptly hands him one of her rubber ducks. "Thanks, baby. You wanna talk to Rory real quick?"
Willa blows a raspberry, which Jess takes a yes. He holds the phone up to her ear, and Willa looks at him like he's lost his mind, right up until Rory starts talking, at which point her eyes go as wide as Jess has ever seen them.
"Magic," Jess says, trying not to laugh, since Willa usually takes that personally. After a few seconds, the novelty apparently fades, because the amazement fades from her face and she makes a grab for the phone, clearly aiming to stick it in her mouth. "Okay, okay. Enough talking time."
Rory's laughing when he gets the phone back up to his ear, the kind of laughter that Willa often inspires in people. There's some snorting going on. "I hope you're taking enough pictures," she says.
"Luke takes a couple hundred every time he visits," Jess tells her. "April's doing some kind of collage thing for Willa's birthday."
"Oh, did you get my package yet? You can send it back if it doesn't fit," Rory says. "But uh, apparently there's some kind of biological imperative where women of a certain age start to become fascinated with baby clothes, because I spent like four hours picking all that out. Maybe they had pheromones pumping through the air vents in there or something."
"Rory, if I didn't have people buying me baby clothes, Willa would be still be wearing whatever I could find in Hartfield's closet every day."
"She looked very cute in that sailor outfit," Rory assures him.
"I'm surprised you're not sending her books."
"I figured you had that covered," Rory says. "Also, uh. I may have bought some to keep…on reserve. For when she's older."
"Of course you did."
"Is it presumptuous of me to give her Cather? Because I don't want to step on your toes or anything, but I found a first edition of Song of the Lark, and, okay, it was a little expensive but not that expensive, and I would've bought it anyway, so - "
"Don't give my kid a first edition, are you kidding, she'll just try to eat it," Jess says. "You keep it. Maybe when she's older, but she might not even like books, you know."
"You shut your mouth," Rory says, scandalized.
"Chris gave her a copy of Goodnight Moon and she tore out half the pages and then stuffed them between the couch cushions."
"Well, Goodnight Moon is a little overrated," Rory says. "Just you wait, she'll be a reader. She's smart, and smart kids read."
Jess snorts. "Not all of them."
"Don't be so pessimistic," Rory says, but she's laughing again, light and easy. Jess settles down onto the couch, one eye on Willa, and enjoys the moment. "Anyway, growing up with you will certainly put her on the right path, as far as taste. Maybe you could bring Luke out for a few months, I'm sure he'd be happy to come stay for awhile. That way you could get some writing done."
"You're very insistent about this."
"Well it's not very often that you personally know one of your favorite authors, so you can't blame me for taking advantage."
That makes Jess pause, ducking his head on instinct against the compliment. "Yeah, well."
Rory laughs again. "You know you want to write another one. I can tell, I can hear it in your voice. You've got another story in you."
Jess doesn't deny it. "Maybe," he concedes.
"I'm gonna talk to Luke about it if you don't," Rory threatens.
"Fine, Jesus Christ," Jess says. "I'll discuss the idea with him. Maybe."
"Good," Rory says. "I'll write something about you for the column, if you publish another novel."
"No, you won't," Jess says, laughing.
"I will too!"
"Rory, you write about politics."
"So write about politics then," Rory says.
"Okay," Jess says, grinning at Willa, who is babbling happily at her row of banged up, mutilated toys. "I'll get right on that."