Love, Lauren

Hey, Raul:

Wish I could see you before you head home to Mexico for Christmas. Did you get the package I sent you? Check your mailbox before you go. In fact, take it with you on the plane to Guadalajara. A good book on a long plane ride is a must.

Remember when I told you the guy from the publishing house said he would get back to me by Christmas? Well, he called yesterday and said he wants to talk about a contract right after the holidays. I called my dad as soon as we hung up. The first thing he said was that he found a literary agent for me and that I should let “this gal shop the diary around to see who else is interested.” Exact words. I told him I really wasn’t looking for like, the sweetest deal or anything. I am donating all the proceeds anyway. He said it’s not about who pays the most for Mercy’s diary, it’s about who wants to pay the most for it. The company that invests the most into the diary will treat the whole project with the most care and attention. I suppose he is right. The publishing guy isn’t going to like this, though. He asked me if anyone else was looking at the diary and did I have an agent. I said no to both questions just a week ago. Dad told me the guy asked both of those questions because he assumed one or both were probably true.

Guess what? Abigail has asked Clarissa and I to move in with her. Now that the diary is finished I only go over there once a week or so and she misses my company. The last few times I’ve brought Clarissa with me. I knew Abigail and Clarissa would hit it off. Abigail is spectacularly transparent these days and Clarissa always has been. Anyway, she has all these empty bedrooms and she’s only a few miles from campus. She said if it would make us feel better she’d charge us a nominal rent. Clarissa told me she’s not sure she wants to give up eating raw ramen noodles and sharing a sink with people who don’t chase away their toothpaste spit. But then she said, “Seriously, Lars. I need to think about it.” I know what she means. Abigail has a lovely home and employs a phenomenal cook but her house is a sad place. It’s like the walls themselves are in a constant state of mourning. I think Abigail can see that. It is no doubt the reason she has asked us to join her there. What do you think?

Can’t wait to see you at Cole’s New Year’s party. Safe journey, Raul. Merry Christmas!
Love, Lauren