Chapter 9
9
“Mr Stone, please have some more of my lemon drizzle cake. I insist!”
Travis glanced at the paper plate in his hands, which was already laden with an enormous slice of Victoria sponge that he hadn’t even started eating yet. He’d only just finished the last mouthful of the first piece of lemon drizzle cake he’d been served when the book club ladies had begun competing to ply him with more. If they had their way, his plate would be overflowing with chocolate brownies, fruit scones, apple pie, and who knew how many other delicious home-baked goodies.
Grateful though he was for the generous treats, Travis was relieved when the librarian, a sweet woman around his own age named Ellie, stepped in to prevent the enthusiastic book lovers from forcing any more tasty confections upon him as they’d dished out the goodies during the Q we can use this cake tin. I brought it from home and have plenty more where that came from. Let’s get it filled up with some delicious goodies!”
“Yes, let’s! This young man needs to keep his sustenance up while he’s working, after all!”
The two women, both somewhere in their late seventies Travis thought, turned their attention to the table where the cakes were laid out and got to work filling the tin for him to take home, cramming in samples of everything brought along by the book club members and chattering away to themselves as they worked.
Sipping the dregs of his coffee, Travis felt a tap on his arm and turned to see the librarian, Ellie, at his other side.
“Thanks again for coming along to the book club today, Mr Stone,” she said with a warm smile.
“Please, call me Travis,” he replied. “Thanks for having me. And sorry again for being so late.”
Ellie waved off his apology. “No need to apologise. We appreciated you coming along on a weekday afternoon to talk to us. Being a small town, we don’t get the chance to invite many big name authors like you into our midst. We’re very grateful.” Her smile turned coy before she added, “Although I know you might not have come along at all if your sister hadn’t twisted your arm.”
“She didn’t have to twist it. It was a pleasure to be here.”
It was the truth. The book club members were generous and kind, and most of them were obviously huge fans of the Maura Shaw series, judging by the clever and detailed questions they’d asked.
“I had no idea you were Michaela’s brother until only a few weeks ago,” Ellie said. “If I’d known before now, I might have badgered her sooner to ask you to pop into the library sometime. Although she did say you live in London and you’re only here in Hamblehurst for a few weeks, so I’m just glad we’ve had the chance to grab you while you’re around.”
“How do you two know each other?”
“We go to the same exercise class at the sports centre, and Michaela comes into the library every now and again to borrow books. A few weeks ago, while she was checking out some paperbacks, I unwittingly recommended your latest book to her, telling her I’d read it almost in one sitting because I couldn’t put it down. She laughed, because I suppose she found it amusing that I was recommending her own brother’s books for her to read. That’s when she told me she was your sister and that she’d get a kick out of telling you about how the local librarian suggested she’d enjoy your books.”
Travis laughed. “Michaela was my first reader when I started writing. She still reads all my draft manuscripts and gives me feedback, some of it gleefully brutal.”
“I know she loves your stories, because she told me so, and I’m sure she probably just enjoys giving you a sisterly hard time with her reader feedback. Your books are wonderful, and when I mentioned before your talk today that I was excited to read the next Maura Shaw mystery, I meant it.”
“That’s very kind of you. It’s a nice book club you have here, Ellie. You must put a lot of work into running it, considering how many people turned up today.”
“Actually, all I do is help by ordering books for the club to chat about and pinning up a few posters around the place. The book club chairwoman does all the heavy lifting. Over the past year, she’s become more receptive than usual to new ideas and new book suggestions and the club has taken on a new lease of life because the members are enjoying what they’re reading as part of their programme compared to previously. The club has grown in size lately too, with people who’d previously left coming back into the fold. I know they were all excited when your latest Maura Shaw novel was added as a late addition this month once you agreed to come and speak to the club.”
Travis gave an easy shrug. “I loved meeting everyone and there were some brilliant questions about the mystery series. I only wish I could do more of these sorts of events, but…”
“But the writing comes first,” Ellie finished for him. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Oh, Mr Stone, I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to autograph a copy of your book!”
Travis turned and saw one of the book club participants approaching him. The older lady had a sweep of silvery hair and a warm smile and was clutching a hardback book and a pen in her hands.
“I’d be glad to,” he smiled, setting down his cake plate and coffee cup and taking the book and pen from the lady.
“Wonderful,” the woman beamed.
“What’s your name?” Travis asked.
“My name is Olive Nimmo, but I don’t want you to sign the book to me. This is a gift for my daughter, Gillian. She is a huge fan of your stories, Mr Stone. She lives in Toronto, and I’ll be flying over there soon for my grandson’s wedding, and when I learned that you were coming along to the library for a special talk today, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get hold of a unique gift to take with me and surprise her with.”
“That’s a lovely idea, Olive,” Ellie said, smiling at the older lady.
“I think so too, dear,” Olive replied and then looked back at Travis. “So, if you could dedicate the book to Gillian, that would be perfect, young man.”
Happy to oblige, Travis opened the book to the title page and wrote the usual version of his dedication, tweaked accordingly.
To Gillian, Thanks for joining Maura Shaw on her mystery adventures! With best wishes, Travis Stone.
After adding the flourish of his autograph, he handed the book back to Olive, who grinned as she scanned what he’d written there.
“Thank you very much,” she said and closed the book. “Gillian will get a real thrill out of this. And although I know she already has a copy of this latest book, I’m sure she’ll enjoy having a signed hardback copy, too. Will you also oblige by posing for a photograph with me, Mr Stone? Gillian will be tickled pink to see me in the company of an esteemed young author such as yourself.”
“I’d be glad to.”
She dug a phone out from her handbag and handed it to Ellie to take the photo. While Olive held up the signed copy of the latest Maura Shaw hardback, Travis grinned for the camera. Ellie snapped a succession of photos and handed the phone back to Olive.
“Wonderful, dear!” Olive smiled as she flicked through the images. “These are perfect. Thank you so much, Mr Stone.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Now, while you’re finishing your cake and coffee before you leave, I was hoping you could help me with something that’s been puzzling me about the first Maura Shaw book, which I only just finished reading the other day,” Olive said.
“Of course.”
“Well—”
Before the older lady could ask her question, Travis’s phone rang. Apologising to Olive, he looked at the screen and saw the call was from his assistant, Ruth.
When he’d arrived at the library earlier, and just before the book talk got underway, he’d seized a quick moment to send Ruth a message, asking her to get in touch and explaining his concerns about all those notifications piling up in his author social media accounts. Desperate to speak to his assistant and get to the bottom of the matter, he excused himself from Olive and Ellie and stepped away to take the call.
“Ruth, thanks for phoning,” Travis said. “Did you get my message earlier?”
“I did, and I’m afraid I’ve got bad news, Travis,” Ruth replied.
Travis heard the shaky tone in his assistant’s voice, as if she were close to tears. “What’s happened? Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not. I was in a car accident two days ago. I’m still in hospital after surgery.”
Stunned by this news, which was just about the last thing he’d expected Ruth to say, Travis scrambled for a response.
“My God! Are you all right? No, of course you’re not all right, or you wouldn’t still be in hospital. Sorry, that was a stupid thing to ask. Tell me everything.”
“I was hit by a drunk driver,” Ruth said, her voice tiny. “He came off the road and mounted the pavement. It happened so fast, all I heard was a roaring engine and a scream from another pedestrian and then I was on the ground. I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in the back of an ambulance. I had to have surgery to fix a broken arm and now I’ve got pins in my wrist. My ankle’s broken, although thankfully that didn’t need surgery, but there’s probably a bit of physiotherapy ahead of me once I’m healing. I’m bruised from head to toe, and I hit my face on the pavement when I landed and needed stitches on my forehead. In other words, I’m a complete and total mess.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Ruth. Bloody hell, that’s terrible. I feel awful for you. What can I do to help? Just say the word, and I’ll do whatever I can.”
“That’s kind of you, Travis, but my parents are arranging for me to stay with them once I’m discharged from the hospital, so I can recover at their house. I’ll need help to get around and fixing meals and so on. God, it’s humiliating having to move back in with my parents when I only moved out a year ago, but there we are.”
Ruth was only in her early twenties and Travis understood how much of a huge blow this was to her. Suffering severe injuries in a road traffic accident caused by a drunk driver and being forced to move home to live with your parents would be a huge blow to anyone, but for someone who’d just struck out on their own independently, it was a cruel turn of events to digest.
“You’ll be on the road to recovery in no time, I’m sure of it,” Travis reassured her.
“Thanks, Travis. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner about all of this, but between surgery and being out for the count on pain killers, I had no choice but to wait until I was up to it before getting in touch with all of my freelance clients. I’m sorry I’ve left you in the lurch these last few days.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Travis said. “None of that matters right now.”
“Given the state I’m in and the fact that one of my wrists is now stuffed with metal pins and both my hands are ripped to shreds, I won’t be able to do any work for at least a few weeks, possibly even longer.”
“Of course you can’t work. You have to concentrate on your recovery.”
“I’m sorry, Travis. I feel bad about letting you down like this.”
“Don’t feel bad. None of this is your fault.”
“I know you’ll have to find another assistant to deal with your author marketing tasks and so on while I’m out of commission, and I know that’s not ideal.”
“That’s the least of your worries. I’ll sort it out. Just rest and recover and let me know when you feel able to get back to work, and we’ll take things from there.”
There was a brief pause down the line. “Thanks, Travis. I appreciate your understanding.”
“In the meantime, let me know if you need any help from me.”
“Thank you. Listen, I can’t stay on the phone much longer, because it hurts to talk because of the cuts and scrapes around my mouth, and I still have a few other clients to contact and let them know I can’t work for them for a while.”
“Understood. I won’t keep you. Stay in touch when you can and get well soon, Ruth. I’ll be thinking of you.”
They exchanged goodbyes and hung up. Travis stared at the phone for a long moment, absorbing what he’d just heard. Poor Ruth. He felt wretched for her. The road accident must have been incredibly traumatic and it sounded like her injuries were awful. Given the surgery she’d described, she had a long recovery ahead of her.
Although their relationship was purely work-related, and they communicated mostly by emails and only talked on the phone a couple of times a month, he’d grown to like Ruth a great deal during the year she’d worked as his assistant, and he hated knowing she was now going through such a terrible time.
“Mr Stone? Is everything okay?”
Travis looked up from the phone he’d been blankly staring at and saw both the librarian, Ellie, and the lady whose book he’d just signed, Olive, peering at him with concerned expressions.
“It looks like you just received some bad news?” Olive said, her frown deepening.
“I’m afraid so. That was my assistant, Ruth. It turns out she was involved in a nasty road accident a couple of days ago and is badly injured and now in the hospital.”
“Oh dear, I’m so very sorry to hear that,” Olive said.
“Me too,” Ellie said. “Will she be okay?”
“Yes, but unfortunately it sounds like she has a long recovery ahead of her. She had surgery to fix a broken arm and had pins put into her wrist. There are other injuries, too.”
“That’s awful,” Olive said, her expression still twisted in dismay. “What a horrible thing to happen. I will keep her in my thoughts.”
“That’s very kind,” Travis smiled.
Ellie gave him a questioning look. “Hmm, is that the reason why…?” She stopped suddenly, biting back the words before she could finish what she was saying. “Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Curious, Travis pressed her. “Is that the reason why… what? What were you about to say?”
“I feel bad even asking, considering what has happened to your poor assistant but… well, the thing is, I’d sent you a couple of emails over the weekend about today’s event here at the library, but didn’t get a response. Of course, it was the weekend, and I should have got in touch at the end of last week to clarify the details, but when I didn’t get a reply this morning either, I just assumed perhaps the email got overlooked. I’m sure you must get so many emails.”
Travis let out a wry laugh. “I do. I get a lot of emails, which is why having Ruth as my assistant is so essential. What did I miss in the emails you sent? I hope it wasn’t something important.”
“No, I just wanted to check a few final details with you before your book talk, but it was nothing major. Like I said, I should’ve got in touch earlier, but I was on a library management training programme last week and it completely slipped my mind.”
“I’m sorry your email was overlooked. I think I might be in for a nasty surprise when I check my email inbox later. With Ruth out of commission for the last few days, and me only now finding out about it, I think there might be a bit of a backlog.”
Under the contract he’d agreed with Ruth, she worked on his author marketing tasks for eight hours each week, mostly on weekdays but including at least a portion of time on the weekends when his social media accounts often got a lot of interaction from readers. Although Ruth wouldn’t have spent much time on either a Saturday or a Sunday working on his email inbox, she would certainly have logged in to check for anything important he needed to see.
Such as a late email from the Hamblehurst librarian regarding the final details for the talk he’d just given.
If he hadn’t been so caught up over the last few days writing his new book, Travis would have logged in to his email at some point, because keeping track of correspondence wasn’t solely the responsibility of his assistant, and he had a duty to make sure important things weren’t missed. But with the writing going at full speed since the end of last week, he’d simply forgotten all about everything else.
It was a hazard of the author life.
“Will your assistant be able to find another member of staff to cover for her while she’s recuperating from her injuries?” Ellie asked.
“I’m afraid not. Ruth is a freelancer who works for herself. I’m sure she probably knows other people in her industry who could step in, but judging by how she sounded on the phone, she was in no fit state to start looking into anything like that on my behalf. What matters is that she rests.”
“That’s very considerate of you, Mr Stone,” Olive said.
“I’ll find the time somehow to deal with the emails and all the other tasks she took care of for me,” Travis said. “Well, at least until I can find a temporary replacement.”
His mind was already whirring at both prospects. Handling all his social media work by himself would take a huge chunk out of his writing time, which was the last thing he needed considering the deadline he was working towards.
And when he thought of the trials he’d gone through to find and hire Ruth in the first place, he shuddered at the idea of having to recruit a new assistant he could trust to do a good job. Before he’d found Ruth, he’d tried two other assistants who both turned out to be worse than useless, giving him more work to do rather than less thanks to their carelessness when interacting with his readers online.
He shuddered just remembering some of the messes they’d created and that he’d had to sort out. When he hired Ruth and discovered her to be smart, sensible, and more than capable of handling the tasks he gave her, he’d almost wept with relief.
But now he’d have to find yet another assistant to step into the breach.
His complete lack of enthusiasm for the recruitment task that lay ahead must have been obvious from his expression, because Olive gave him a thoughtful look.
“It sounds like you’re in quite a muddle, Mr Stone,” she said. “Between your assistant unexpectedly taking this leave of absence, entirely understandable though it may be, and you having to deal with a lot of administrative work that you’d much rather leave to someone else, it’s clear that you are in a bind.”
“Well, it goes without saying that my main concern is that my assistant gets better soon, for her own sake, not mine. But it’s also true that I was relying on her more than ever right now to deal with various marketing and correspondence tasks, because I’m working to a deadline for my next book.”
Realising he was sharing his internal thought processes with two strangers, Travis snapped his mouth closed. It wasn’t appropriate to vent like this. He offered the two women an over-bright smile. “But no matter. I’m sure it will all sort itself out easily enough.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” Olive said. “Although if you’ll indulge me, I think I might be able to help.”
Travis blinked, not expecting this response. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I happen to know of someone who is very good with administrative and organisational tasks and who is looking for some temporary work for a few weeks,” Olive said, a sparkle now in her eyes. “I believe she’d be the perfect person to help you with these jobs that your assistant can’t take care of while she recovers from her injuries. Her name is Courtney, and I feel sure she would do a marvellous job for you.”
“Uh…” Travis had no idea how to respond. “I, er, that’s kind of you to suggest someone. Has she worked as a personal assistant or an author assistant in the past?”
Olive frowned. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
“I think it might be best if I search for someone who’s worked for authors and publishers before, so they can hit the ground running.”
“Naturally, you should do what you think is right,” Olive replied. “But surely there’s no harm in at least having a conversation with Courtney and discussing the job and finding out if she might be the right fit?”
“Um…” Travis searched around for a way out of the conversation that didn’t seem rude, but couldn’t find one. The kindly woman was only trying to help. “What sort of other experience does she have?”
Olive lifted her chin and smiled. “Until recently, she worked as an office assistant for a furniture store, dealing with customers and suppliers and keeping the whole place running very smoothly indeed. I would imagine if she can keep a busy office in a busy shop organised, she could help deal with your various tasks, too. She’s currently visiting family right here in Hamblehurst and has some free time on her hands and would, I’m sure, be thrilled at the opportunity to work for a few hours and earn a little bit of cash.”
“Why isn’t she still working at the furniture store?” Travis asked, fearing he smelled a rat.
“Unfortunately, the business closed down. Courtney is quite upset not to work there anymore. She loves putting her skills to good use to earn a living.”
“This Courtney… she’s a good friend of yours, is she?” Travis said.
There was a brief pause before Olive answered and an odd flickering of something behind the older woman’s eyes that Travis couldn’t pin down.
“Courtney is a very good friend of mine, yes,” Olive said at last. “Why don’t I drop by and speak to her on my way home and ask if she’d like to meet you and find out more about this job?”
Travis felt thoroughly ambushed by the woman. And yet, he was sorely tempted by her suggestion, too.
When he thought about all those social media notifications piling up on his author profiles, and with Ruth no longer available to take care of it all for him, he felt his skin crawl with anxiety. He was only just making up ground writing his new book after decamping from London to escape the construction racket inside his apartment building, but all the solid progress he’d made would be for naught he if had to start handling the marketing and correspondence tasks that Ruth had dealt with before her accident.
Would it really be such a terrible idea to agree to a quick conversation with this friend of the nice lady, Olive, and see if there might be a speedy fix to help him out of the sticky patch he’d landed in? If it turned out that this friend of hers—Courtney, did she say her name was?—was up to the job, it would save him the hassle of spending time and energy recruiting and training someone new. That alone made him want to give it a try.
“Do you really think she’d be able to help?” Travis asked the woman. “Do you think she could handle the social media stuff and the email work?”
“I see no reason why not,” Olive replied.
“I need someone who’s trustworthy and sensible and can hit the ground running.”
“I feel sure Courtney can tick all those boxes for you, and more.”
Travis glanced at Ellie the librarian, who’d remained quiet throughout this exchange. “Do you happen to know Olive’s friend? Are you able to vouch for her?”
“Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know her,” Ellie said, but followed this up with an encouraging smile and added, “However, I can vouch for Olive and her judgement. If she thinks her friend can help, then I’d be willing to give it a go, if it were me.”
The two women both smiled at him. Travis realised his mind was made up.
“In that case, yes, put me in touch with this friend of yours, and we’ll see what happens,” he said.
“Wonderful!” Olive beamed. “I know you’ll be glad you said yes, Mr Stone. Now, how should my friend Courtney get in touch with you?”
They exchanged phone numbers. Travis didn’t usually hand out his number to complete strangers, but the situation called for it. What’s more, Olive Nimmo didn’t strike him as a lunatic who would start phoning and texting him at all hours. When he delicately asked the older woman not to share his number with anyone other than her friend, she gave him a scandalised look.
“As if I’d do such a thing,” she tutted. “Your phone number is quite safe with me, I assure you. Before I retired, I worked as a receptionist at the local GP practice, so I understand perfectly well the need to respect personal information and ensure it is treated appropriately.”
“I appreciate that.”
“As I said a moment ago, Courtney is staying with a neighbour of mine on Foxglove Street, so I’ll drop by on my way home and get the ball rolling.”
“Foxglove Street?” Travis said, surprised all over again. “You live on Foxglove Street?”
“Indeed. As does Ellie.”
Travis looked between the librarian and the silver-haired older lady. “That’s strange. I’m staying on Foxglove Street, too.”
Both women gave him wide-eyed looks.
“Well, isn’t that something,” Olive said. “We’re all neighbours. When Ellie introduced you, she mentioned something about you only staying in the town for a short while. Where exactly are you living on Foxglove Street?”
Travis mentioned the house number and Olive nodded in apparent understanding.
“I’d heard the residents were off on some grand European motorhome adventure,” she said. “It’s good to know they have someone looking after their house while they’re gone. And if my friend Courtney only has to pop along the street to see you and do this work you require, all the better!”
Travis couldn’t help grinning at the older lady’s enthusiasm. She seemed to think the deal was already done.
“Tell your friend to call me whenever she can and we’ll arrange a chat to see if she might fit the bill,” Travis said, keen to manage expectations.
“Will do,” Olive said.
The book club members were all preparing to leave the library by this point. The women who’d been filling a container with goodies for Travis to take home with him pressed two full cake tins into his hands, brushing off his protests and insisting he enjoy the treats. Once Travis thanked Ellie the librarian again and said goodbye to the book club folks, he left the library, cake tins in his arms, and retraced his steps back to Foxglove Street.
Travis had enjoyed talking to the book club. Much though he might prefer to hunker down at his keyboard and write all day, the event reminded him that it was important to get out into the real world from time to time. The face-to-face reminder that there were people out there who enjoyed his Maura Shaw mysteries and were desperate for more stories always helped him push through the inevitable tough moments when he was writing.
His mind turned to the scene he’d been writing when his phone had rang a few hours earlier and Michaela had informed him he was late for the book club meeting he’d promised to appear at. As he crossed the market square and turned onto the high street, he was already thinking about the dilemma Maura Shaw was facing and the solutions he’d begun working on before leaving the house.
Before he even made it through the front door, Travis was already composing the next words of the story inside his head, his fingers itching to return to the keyboard and his mind disappeared into the world he loved, the world he’d created, and to which he couldn’t wait to return.