The New York Times  bestselling author of  Always  and  Blackberry Winter takes Goodnight Moon as inspiration for this remarkable story of friendship, love, and the mystery behind this beloved classic. Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown ( Goodnight Songs ) is an adored childhood classic, but its real origins are lost to history. In Goodnight June, Sarah Jio offers a suspenseful and heartfelt take on how the “great green room” might have come to be. June Andersen is professionally successful, but her personal life is marred by unhappiness. Unexpectedly, she is called to settle her great-aunt Ruby’s estate and determine the fate of Bluebird Books, the children’s bookstore Ruby founded in the 1940s. Amidst the store’s papers, June stumbles upon letters between her great-aunt and the late Margaret Wise Brown—and steps into the pages of American literature. At 35, June Anderson is a hard-charging financier, the youngest vice president ever at her international bank, with her own Manhattan apartment—and an anxiety disorder and dangerously high blood pressure. Then her beloved great-aunt, Ruby Crain, bequeaths to her Bluebird Books, the children’s bookstore in Seattle that was an important part of June’s childhood. Skilled at foreclosing on small, failing businesses, June plans to sell the store to a developer. But then she follows a trail of letters hidden in books and learns that Ruby was a dear friend of ­author Margaret Wise Brown and inspired the longtime best-seller Goodnight Moon. This discovery, along with a budding friendship with the restaurateur next door, makes June vow to fight to keep the financially fragile bookstore. In unwinding a feel-good plot with a certain amount of predictability, Jio also provides some final twists as she reveals family discord in June’s life and long-held secrets in Ruby’s. This eminently readable novel with particular appeal for fans of children’s literature is a tribute to family and forgiveness. --Michele Leber “Delightful and uplifting.”— Historical Novel Society “ Eminently readable . . . a tribute to family and forgiveness.”— Booklist Praise for Sarah Jio and her novels:   “Jio has become one of the most-read women in America.”— Woman’s World (on Morning Glory )   “Linger[s] long after the last page.”— Romantic Times (on The Last Camellia )                                                                                                                                                       “Terrific … compelling … an intoxicating blend of mystery, history and romance.”— Real Simple (on Blackberry Winter ) Sarah Jio is the #1 international, New York Times, and USA Today bestselling author of eight novels. She is also a longtime journalist who has contributed to Glamour, The New York Times, Redbook, Real Simple, O: The Oprah Magazine, Cooking Light, Woman’s Day, Marie Claire, Self , and many other outlets, including NPR’s Morning Edition, appearing as a commentator. Jio lives in Seattle with her three young boys. ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof.*** Copyright © 2014 by Sarah Jio  Chapter 1   New York City May 3, 2005 Everyone has a happy place, the scene that comes into view when you close your eyes and let your mind transport you to the dot on the globe where life is cozy, safe, warm. For me, that place is the bookstore, with its emerald green walls and the big picture windows that, at night, frame the stars twinkling above. The embers in the fireplace burn the color of a setting orange sun, and I’m wrapped in a quilt, seated in a big wingback chair reading a book. “June?” I open my eyes quickly, and the stark white walls beyond my hospital bed reset my frame of mind to reality. The thin sheet draped over my body is stiff and scratchy, bleached one too many times, and I shiver as a nurse places her icy hands on my wrist. “Didn’t mean to wake you, honey,” she says, fastening a blood pressure cuff around my arm. I stare at the tattoo on her forearm, a butterfly with a lot of pink and purple detailing, as she squeezes the black pump between her fingers. I immediately thank my seventeen-year-old self (profusely) for not actually going through with that wraparound dolphin ankle tattoo I was once this close to getting. A moment later she rips open the Velcro and frowns. “High,” she says. “Too high for a woman your age. Dr. Cater is going to want to talk to you about this.” I see the disapproving look in her eyes and I want to blurt out, “I’m a vegetarian! I run marathons! I haven’t even had dessert in two years!” But my cell phone chimes, and I pick it up quickly. It’s a text from my boss, Arthur. “Where are you? Thought you were working on second-quarter reports tonight?” I feel my heart beat faster and I take a deep breath. He doesn’t know I’m in the hospital, of course. No one does. And no one will. The nurse begins to speak, and I hold up my hand for silence, then sit up to compose myself before hitting Reply. “Got si