Chapter 11
11
Travis was deep into a pivotal scene in the new book and things were moving fast on the page for his clever protagonist, Maura Shaw.
After the earlier interruption of having to leave his writing behind in order to go along to the book club talk at the local library, the story had been firing on all cylinders ever since he returned to the house on Foxglove Street. He liked the direction the story was going in now that he had a plan to complicate things for Maura by dangling a villainous love interest under her nose.
The scene carried him away, drew him in, kept him typing at full speed and clattering the keyboard as he raced to keep up with the story… until he heard the irritating shrill tones of his phone ringing.
He realised he’d forgotten to turn the device to silent mode after returning to the house. With the writing spell broken thanks to the noisy ring tone, he rose from the desk to see who was phoning him.
The number on the screen wasn’t in his contacts and he didn’t recognise it, either. He thought about letting it go to the voice mail, then thought better of it.
“Is this Travis Stone?” said a female voice down the line when he answered the call.
“Yes.”
“My name is Courtney Flynn. I think you spoke to a lady called Olive earlier today and gave her your number to pass along to me. She said you’re looking to hire someone to help out while your assistant is poorly?”
With his mind still latched onto the scene he’d been writing, Travis took a second to mentally adjust. “Yes, that’s right. Thanks for phoning.”
“I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your assistant. Olive said she was in a road accident? I hope she gets well soon.”
“Thanks. I hope so, too. She has a lot of nasty injuries to recover from and it will take some time for her to get back on her feet. In the meantime, yes, I’m looking for a temporary assistant.”
“Well, I hope I can help. I think I can help.”
Travis liked the confidence in the woman’s voice, even if he also detected a hint of hesitation there, too. She sounded young, enthusiastic, thoughtful. It was a classy touch to lead with expressing concern about the fate of the assistant she might be temporarily replacing.
“What sort of experience do you have?” he asked. “The woman I spoke to earlier today, Olive, seemed to think you’d be a great fit for the job, but obviously I have to ask questions to find out for sure.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Mr Stone. I haven’t worked as a personal assistant before, and I’ve never worked for an author before either, and I think it’s important I say that upfront. However, for the last couple of years, I’ve worked as an office assistant in a furniture shop, dealing with all kinds of paperwork and software platforms, and also dealing directly with customers. From what Olive said, it sounds like this would be a customer-focused role, if that’s the right way to describe it?”
“That’s not a bad summary,” Travis laughed. “I’m an author and I have a lot of readers who follow me on social media and like to be kept up to date with what I’m up to. My assistant deals with most of the heavy lifting with the social media, and also deals with most of the reader correspondence I get through email, too. It’s not difficult work, but it does take time and it definitely needs finesse and careful handling. My readers mean a lot to me and it’s important that they’re treated warmly and respectfully.”
“Of course. I looked at some of your social media content before I called you, Mr Stone, and I can see you have a lot of fans and a lot of interaction there, too. I’ve read some of your recent posts and scanned through the comments and responses. If your assistant was the one dealing with the direct interaction with the fan comments, then I think I understand the work she was doing and the approach you need from her replacement. I see where she took the time to reply to detailed comments and where a simple ‘like’ was enough. I also see occasions where more of a back-and-forth conversation emerged, and can see how she handled that, being warm and friendly but not getting into too much detail that you might not be comfortable with.”
Impressed that she’d already checked out his social media pages, Travis smiled. He was also impressed with what she apparently already understood about the careful management of a large social media following.
When the lady he’d met at the library, Olive, had suggested putting him in touch with this friend of hers, he’d been wary and hadn’t expected much to come of it. Now, after only a few moments spent speaking to Courtney on the phone, his hopes were high that she might be the answer to his unexpected problem, after all.
“It sounds like you have a good idea of what I’m looking for,” Travis said. “But I’d like it if we could get together for a proper chat before I make a decision.”
“I’d like that too. When suits you?”
“Would tomorrow morning work? Maybe eleven o’clock?”
“That’s perfect. Where shall we meet? Olive said you’re staying on Foxglove Street, so if it helps to be able to show me some work materials on your computer or whatever, I’d be glad to drop by your house.”
“Okay, let’s do that.” Travis had been about to suggest they meet at a nearby café or somewhere similar, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by suggesting a de facto job interview in a domestic setting. But it would be easier to talk here at the house, where they’d have privacy and the ability to chat freely, and he was reassured to discover they were thinking along the same lines. “I’m at number sixty-one.”
“Olive told me. I’m just a little further along the street. If this works out and you decide to hire me, it’ll be the shortest work commute I’ve ever had.”
Travis blinked, realising there was a misunderstanding. Did Courtney think she would be coming here to the house on a regular basis to carry out the personal assistant work he required? Clearly, that’s exactly what she thought.
But that wasn’t the deal. The assistants he’d hired in the past all worked remotely from somewhere else, usually in their own homes. That’s what they wanted and that’s what they preferred, too.
It was certainly what Travis preferred. He couldn’t have some other person in the same house as him while he was writing. It was unthinkable.
He knew he ought to clear this up before things went any further, but before he could explain things, Courtney was speaking again.
“Listen, thanks Mr Stone for the chance to interview for this job,” she said. “I’ll send through a copy of my CV tonight so you can take a good look at it before we meet, and I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven on the dot.”
“Uh, sure?—”
“Bye!”
The line went dead. Travis removed the phone from his ear and stared at the screen. Courtney didn’t mess around, he’d give her that. It was exactly the quality he needed in a personal assistant.
A remote personal assistant, one who wasn’t in and out of the house and getting under his feet and interrupting him with questions.
Okay, maybe Courtney, if he hired her, wouldn’t get under his feet or interrupt him with questions. Maybe once he’d met her, she’d turn out to be perfect for the role.
If so, he’d clear things up and explain that she’d be working remotely, even if that was just from a few doors further down Foxglove Street, where she apparently also lived. If she was the right match, he’d give her the same guidance documents he’d provided his previous assistants with, so she knew what she was doing with the social media accounts and email communications. It stood to reason that there might be questions while she found her feet, but she didn’t need to be here in the house with him while she was actually doing the work.
If she was right for the job, he’d explain all of that and smooth over any misunderstandings. He’d hire her, set her to work, and then he’d get back to writing his book.
And if she wasn’t right for the job, well, he’d just have to look around on the freelance hiring sites online and find someone who could step into the breach. Travis sagged at the idea of doing such a thing.
He sagged even further when, as the phone was still in his hand, he opened Facebook and saw the hundreds of new notifications that had piled up on top of those he’d already scanned earlier that day.
The last post he’d added to his author Facebook page was from Friday, and comprised an image of his last published book along with a few words about how much he’d enjoyed writing one particular scene in the novel, which had involved Maura Shaw getting caught up in a fast-paced car chase as she’d hunted down her latest murder suspect.
A quick glance at the comments on the post showed how much his readers enjoyed that scene, too. Conversations had even sparked between the readers as they remarked on one another’s comments, which Travis loved to see.
But what he didn’t love to see were the slightly more tetchy comments peppered here and there, and which demanded to know why Travis hadn’t liked or responded to what they’d posted.
Although he made no secret of the fact that an assistant helped him manage the social media accounts, it was clear that fans got upset when their posts were not acknowledged. With Ruth in the hospital, none of the responses had even received a ‘Like’, never mind a reply. When he’d added the post to Facebook on Friday, he’d assumed Ruth would pick up on the work generated through the comments and deal with them the way she always did.
He'd had no idea she hadn’t seen the post at all, never mind hadn’t responded to comments from the fans—and all those unopened notifications were the consequence.
After hurrying home from the library earlier, with the next sentences of the book scene he was writing already forming inside his head, he’d plonked himself down at the keyboard and got to work. But he couldn’t ignore the social media pile-up any longer.
With a sigh of regret, Travis saved and closed his manuscript at his laptop and logged in to his Facebook account, then got to work, liking comments on his post, responding where required, doing his best to keep it brief and swift.
It took over an hour to work his way through the comments on the post he’d made a few days ago. And that was just one social media platform. Although Facebook was where his fans interacted with him the most, he hadn’t even logged into the other platforms yet to see what was going on there. If he did log in, he guessed he’d probably lose another half an hour, possibly more.
But it had to be done.
Hunched at the keyboard, Travis resigned himself to clearing up the neglected social media tasks. He enjoyed interacting with readers, the sensible ones at any rate, and he was grateful to have fans who read his books and took the time to get in touch. It wasn’t that long ago he’d been a completely unknown author, writing books and hoping that one day someone would want to read them. Travis understood how lucky he was to enjoy the success he had with his Maura Shaw mysteries, and that he owed it to the fans and readers who devoured his stories.
Acknowledging those readers by ‘liking’ their kind and thoughtful comments was the least he could do—even if it was eating into his writing time.
When he finally finished dealing with the social media work that had been inadvertently ignored all weekend, he’d lost almost two hours. As he fixed a late dinner in the kitchen, which he planned to bolt down before returning to his manuscript for the rest of the evening to catch up on lost time, Travis found himself hoping that the meeting with Courtney Flynn tomorrow morning would go off without a hitch.
Finding someone to take the social media work off his hands was more crucial than ever, considering how much time he’d just spent dealing with it himself.
“Please be everything I’m looking for, Courtney Flynn,” Travis muttered to himself as he wolfed down a sandwich and returned to his keyboard. “Please be the answer to my prayers.”