Chapter 69
The first time Katherine had walked into this particular publishing house, she'd been expecting a rejection similar to the one that her book had faced from the past three. It certainly looked like the other publishing houses she'd tried, rising in tall stone with arched windows and neat, gold handled doors set in the front. Katherine had forced herself to walk in, resigned, for the most part, to go home and give up on the endeavour entirely. Perhaps, she'd thought, it was a stupid idea in the first place.
However, there was something about walking into an office and discovering that the potential future editor that she'd been in contact with, E. Brown, did not have a first name like Edward, or Evan, or even Ethelred, but instead was named Emily, that had given her a pretty good feeling about this whole thing. Sure enough, she'd walked out of that interview with a contract.
And today, she walks out holding out the proof copy of her novel. As in, an actual book. Katherine can't quite believe it.
…
Honestly, Jack's on a bit of a high as he rushes over, hoping that he'll make it to the publishing house before Katherine leaves for home. The meeting went even better than he'd been hoping, really, considering how little he was expecting to get out of it. He'd expected Mr. Anderson to laugh him straight out of his office, once Jack walked in and he figured out, like all the posh folks do, by his accent or the way he carries himself or something, that Jack's flying by the seat of his pants on things like this. It was an honour just to meet the guy, truly, Jack loves his paintings. The idea that he would actually hire Jack to paint the lobby of the building that he's constructing on 40th street, specifically to house these fancy artists, well, it's ludicrous. And, yet, Jack just signed a contract. For the next ten weeks, his evenings and weekends will be spent painting a mural on the walls of this lobby. Good grief, the only time he's felt luckier is the day he married Katherine.
He makes it, just, seeing Katherine stepping out of the door just as he rounds the corner next to the publishing house. Dodging a few random pedestrians, he jogs over, pulling off his cap and shoving his other hand deep into his trouser pocket.
"You lookin' for somebody to walk you home, Miss?"
Katherine spins around, grinning. "What are you doing here?"
"Meetin' finished early." Jack grins back, then nods at the volume she is holding her hand. "Let's see it then."
The binding of the proof copy is grey, though it will be a deep forest green when it's published for real. The publishers haven't managed to exactly match the colour of the wool that is pinned inside the cover of Katherine's bible, but it's pretty damn close. Neither are the words on the front of it embossed, merely stamped on in black ink. That doesn't make them any less incredible.
LUCY
~ A Novel ~
by Katherine Plumber
Jack stares down at it in wonder. Katherine shifts. Jack's been so supportive up until now, but what if it's all too much?
"Ace, 's your name." He says, quiet and prayerful. "On a book."
Katherine winces. "There's still time to have it changed, if you don't like it."
"You kiddin'? Sweetheart, this ain't nothin' to do wi' me. 'S all you. You deserve all the recognition for this." He hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her into his side, pressing a kiss to her hair. "'Sides, I want Katherine Kelly all to myself. The rest o' the world can have Katherine Plumber."
"How did your meeting go?" Katherine asks, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It was for that job down on 40th Street, right?"
"Yeah, fine." Jack dismisses the question, instead choosing to take hold of her waist, pick her up, and spin Katherine round, wholly ignoring the dirty looks they get from passers-by. She squeaks at first, the action unexpected, but soon wraps her arms around his neck and laughs into his mouth, savouring the taste of him, warm and soft as brown sugar. "I's so proud o' you, y'know?" Jack tells her as he sets her down on the pavement again.
"You only tell me every day." Katherine laughs, stroking her thumb along the line of his neck and relishing the way his Adam's apple jumps in his throat at the touch. It's definitely too early in the evening to be wishing that he'd take her home (and then to bed), but she's seriously considering asking him to (the answer would be an effusive yes, it always is) but then he says: "I's tellin' you, I admire smart girls-"
And she remembers herself, pulling away from him a little to look at him properly, smoothing out his collar as she presses for an answer. "Seriously, how was your meeting?"
Jack shrugs a little, scratching at the back of his neck. His answer, when it comes, is quiet. "I got the gig."
"What? Jack, that's incredible!" A smile bursts across Katherine's face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Today's your day, Kath. First proof copy an' all."
"You're too sweet." She nudges him with her shoulder, taking his hand as they start to stroll down the pavement. "Your success is my success, remember? You and me."
He nudges her back. "You an' me."
Katherine thinks that she could live forever in this moment, caught between dizzying success and the perfect, grounding force in her life. A book, her book. Jack, her Jack. "Can I read it to you tonight?"
"Later." Jack grins, steering them around a corner. "I's got a surprise for you first."
When Katherine finally figures out where they're going, she laughs. "Jacobi's? Jack Kelly, you sure know how to treat a girl."
"Shuddup, you." He rolls his eyes, pushing the door to the restaurant open with his shoulder.
The second they step inside, Jack raises the book high in the air like a newspaper and shrugs on the voice he hasn't used to hawk a pape in almost two whole years. "Extra, extra – Katherine Kelly is a published novelist!"
Jacobi's is fuller than she's ever seen it; all of the newsies, even the ones who have left the lodgehouse like Crutchie and Race, the entirety of the Jacobs family plus Miriam, Medda and Daisy, and even Edith and Constance and her Father (the last of whom is sitting in the corner and looking thoroughly disapproving but is nonetheless there). Katherine whirls to face Jack, a smile spreading across her face. He's set this up, of course he has, a celebration. Goodness, but she's lucky. The newsies swarm around her, clapping her on the back and whooping. The proof copy of the book gets passed around, gloated over, congratulated.
And then Crutchie holds it aloft and yells: "Hey Jack! You read the front page o' this?"
"Nah, Crutchie," he calls back from where he's been laughing with Davey, "I ain't hawkin' front page headlines no more!"
"Well, get readin'."
Jack takes the book from Crutchie's outstretched hand and flips it open to the front flyleaf. The single sentence printed there is written in black ink on white paper, the same way they started out. It's a book, but it's fresh off the press and it smells like newsprint, the same way that Katherine does, the same way that he does. It smells like home.
For Jack, for believing in me even when I did not believe in myself.
It takes a moment for the letters to piece themselves together under his squinting eyes, but when they do his mouth drops open a little. He reaches out for Katherine, not taking his eyes from the page, catching hold of her hand and pulling her to him. He can do such things, these days, as can she; he has an awareness of her presence in the same way he knows where his hand is without having to look. They orbit one another. Katherine allows herself to be pulled away from her conversation with Miriam and Daisy for a moment, turning to him and catching sight of the page. Her throat closes up.
Slowly, slowly, he turns to look at her. "For sure?"
Katherine smiles, going up on tiptoes to kiss him and leaning her forehead against his, intertwining their fingers so closely that the wedding bands on their fingers clink together.
"For sure."
...
Author's note: Beaux Art studios, completed in 1901, was a built specifically by the painter Abraham Archibald Anderson (whose parents apparently liked alliteration) to have apartments for artists with studios included. In my head, Jack is commissioned to paint murals on the walls of the lobby to welcome artists in and set the tone of the space. The building, now renovated, stands on 40th street to this day. Just the epilogue to go now! Comments make my days brighter :)