Chapter 12
12
Courtney checked herself in the hallway mirror for the umpteenth time, smoothing her hair and tightening her ponytail band and adjusting the collar of the tunic top she’d selected to wear over loose-fitting black trousers.
The tunic was the smartest top she owned in her small maternity clothing wardrobe, and last night when she’d been debating her outfit for today’s interview with Travis Stone, Rosie had assured her the tunic was perfect. Courtney wasn’t convinced, unsure whether the bright blue top set the right tone for a job interview and wishing she had something more demure but which was also smart.
But the tunic was smart and well-cut, even if it was a little on the bright side, and it was the best quality item she had to wear. As Rosie had reminded her, it wasn’t like she was interviewing for some huge corporate job where there was a dress code. This was a personal assistant role she was going for, and what she’d chosen to wear was smart and appropriate and worked just fine.
Courtney hoped so. She knew she looked okay, just as Rosie had told her last night, but before she left the house she wanted to be sure she’d made the best of her outfit and her appearance, and that she was well-groomed and possessed the aura of someone who might just know what she was doing.
This personal assistant role might only offer a few paid hours a week, but Courtney wanted those hours and the money that came with them—she wanted them so badly it hurt. After the shock of yesterday’s redundancy, she needed a win to give her a much-needed confidence boost.
A soft kick from the baby told her it was time to go. If she stood faffing around in front of the hallway mirror for much longer, she’d have to use the loo again before leaving the house, and that would make her late for the interview.
She would not risk being late for the interview.
Grabbing her bag and the key to Rosie’s front door, Courtney stepped outside and locked up. It was another bright morning on Foxglove Street, the sun already high in the blue sky and the air warm. Feeling excitement building at the meeting she was about to have, Courtney set off along the pavement as she organised her thoughts and rehearsed the various answers she’d prepared for the questions she expected to be asked.
She wondered what it would be like to work for an author, and a hugely successful one, too. Last night, she’d done more research and looked up Travis Stone’s books online. Although his name had been vaguely familiar and she distinctly remembered her mother having read a couple of his novels, she had no idea the man had written so many books—thirteen in total, including the eight books that were part of his most successful series, the Maura Shaw mysteries.
The vast numbers of people who followed him on social media proved how much his readers enjoyed his books. Judging by all the comments his posts received, it was no surprise he needed an assistant to help him deal with his fan interactions online.
As Courtney walked along Foxglove Street, she thought more about the questions Travis Stone would want to ask and how she would answer them. Her biggest hurdle, as she saw it, was that she’d never worked as a personal assistant before, not of the sort Travis Stone probably relied on. She would have to convince him that, despite this handicap, she still possessed the basic skill set needed to do the job and that she would be a quick study for any tasks that might be new to her.
She was still rehearsing her answers inside her head when she found herself outside the gate of number sixty-one. It was a pretty house with red brick walls and bay windows on one side of the dark blue door and bright plant pots on either side of the front step filled with purple and yellow pansies. A cherry tree stood in the centre of the small front lawn, its soft pink blossoms shimmering in the gentle breeze.
Summoning her courage and confidence even as her stomach churned with nerves, Courtney walked up the front path and rang the doorbell. As she waited, her gaze fell to the potted pansies and she noticed they were wilting, and that the soil in which they were growing was hard and dry. It hadn’t rained for several days and the temperature had climbed, and now the poor pansies were paying the price.
She was mourning their neglect when she heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the front door. Pushing thoughts of the thirsty flowers out of her head, Courtney sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and prepared for the job interview that lay ahead.
Travis strode towards the front door, keen to get this madcap interview out of the way. Last night’s optimism that the woman he was meeting today might turn out to be exactly what he needed in a personal assistant had vanished in the cold light of morning.
Courtney Flynn might have sounded confident, capable, and personable on the phone, but Travis had resigned himself to the realisation that the chances of her working out were slim to none. She was the friend of an elderly lady who Travis didn’t even know, for crying out loud. The CV Courtney had sent through last night was decent but nothing spectacular, her job experience limited. At the library, he’d been caught on the hop by the old lady’s suggestion that her friend get in touch with him, and if he’d had his wits about him, he would’ve declined the offer.
But he hadn’t done that.
So, in the interests of being polite, he’d chat with Courtney Flynn this morning, as they’d planned. But he wasn’t holding out much hope of this working out. The universe just didn’t make things that easy.
With a resigned sigh, Travis opened the front door and saw the young woman standing on the other side of it… and felt the sigh evaporate inside his throat the moment his eyes met hers.
A smile lit her face as she looked up at him from beneath a sweep of dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that draped across one shoulder. Her eyes were the colour of twilight, her cheeks a landscape of soft angles, her mouth a rosebud opening to greet the sun.
With the light catching her from behind, she looked like an angel.
“Hello, I’m Courtney Flynn,” she said, her smile widening as she held out her hand.
A beat passed, probably only a second in time, but in Travis’s head it felt like far longer. He was staring, struck dumb by the young woman on his doorstep. When his brain at last re-engaged, he just about managed to return her smile.
“I’m Travis Stone,” he said, taking her outstretched hand to shake it. Her skin was soft, her fingers warm, and he felt a buzz of heat in his palm and almost didn’t want to let go when the courtesy handshake was over.
This is a job interview, he reminded himself. There are rules. Pull yourself together. What’s the matter with you?
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
It was only when he stepped back from the door to welcome her inside that his gaze moved from her face, which had left him utterly fascinated, and took in the rest of her.
Including the pregnancy bump beneath the bright blue top she wore.
She was pregnant. Quite a lot pregnant, by the looks of it.
He’d just been ogling a pregnant woman.
No, not ogling. That was the wrong word entirely. He’d been admiring… no, that wasn’t right, either. He’d been appreciating… no, she was a woman, not a painting.
For a writer, he suddenly wasn’t very good with words.
He’d been… mesmerised. Bewitched.
He’d been falling .
No! That was definitely the wrong word.
Wasn’t it?
“This is a gorgeous house, Mr Stone,” Courtney said as she climbed the front steps and joined him in the hallway.
“Actually, the house isn’t mine,” Travis said, the words tumbling out in a rush as he fought to get himself under control. “I’m staying here for a few weeks to get away from construction noise at my apartment building in London. My sister is friends with the owners of this place, and when I complained to her about how noisy things were at my flat, she suggested coming here might be an option. The owners are travelling, but were happy to agree to have someone staying here and looking after the place, someone they know. Well, they don’t actually know me, but they know my sister, and that’s how I ended up here, and so…”
And he was babbling. Babbling like a complete and utter idiot. Snapping his mouth closed, he gave Courtney an apologetic smile.
“Anyway, come on through,” he said, waving a hand towards the room on the right of the hallway. “We can chat in here.”
She walked ahead of him, her gaze taking in the room as Travis gestured to the two sofas that faced each other beside the fireplace. When Courtney sat on the sofa facing towards the window, Travis took the one opposite.
“This is a lovely room,” Courtney said, setting her handbag down beside her. “It gets a lot of light.”
Travis turned to the windows behind him. “The bay windows make all the difference. It’s why I set my writing space up in this room. It helped that the owner already had a handy desk in the corner that they never used. All I had to do was shift a few framed photographs out of the way, plug in my laptop, and I was good to go. It’s a great room to write in. Since I arrived here, I’ve written more in a week and a half than I wrote in almost a month back in London.”
He was babbling again. Courtney didn’t want to hear any of this. She was here to find out about the job of becoming his temporary personal assistant, not be subjected to the boring details of how he’d come to end up here in this house and the impact it was having on his writing life.
“So, I’m glad you could come here today for a chat about the personal assistant job,” Travis said, and found that he meant it, despite the pessimistic thoughts he’d had barely two minutes ago when he’d been about to answer the door.
“Me too. I know you’re looking for someone who can jump straight in and get to work right away, and I know you’d probably prefer someone who has more experience as a personal assistant, but I think I can do this job and do it well, Mr Stone.”
Amused by her confident declaration, Travis smiled. “Please, call me Travis.”
He was probably only a few years older than her. Even if he did end up hiring her, it would be weird if she called him Mr Stone. That she’d started off by calling him that indicated a professionalism about her that Travis automatically liked.
“I’d really like this job, Travis,” Courtney said. “I’m happy to answer any questions you might have.”
“In that case, we’ll get started. Can I offer you tea or coffee first?”
Courtney shook her head, but then seemed to think better of it. “Could I have a glass of water? I’m a little warm after walking here in the sunshine.” She ran her hands over her baby bump and added, “I’m carrying a little extra weight right now, which makes getting around harder than it used to be.”
She laughed, the warm tones making Travis’s heart thump hard inside his chest.
“Iced water coming right up.” He jumped to his feet and hurried to the kitchen, glad to have the chance to pull himself together properly before he got the interview under way.
At the sink, he poured two glasses of water and then added ice cubes from the freezer. He paused for a moment in the kitchen, reining in his scattered thoughts.
Never before in his life had he experienced anything like what he’d felt when he opened the front door and saw Courtney Flynn for the first time. It wasn’t just because she was beautiful, with her dark hair and softly angular face and striking eyes.
It was because her smile had punched a hole straight through him.
And it was because she glowed as if lit from within as she’d stood there on the doorstep, bathed in morning sunshine.
Of course, if she glowed, wasn’t that down to the fact she was pregnant? Women who were pregnant glowed, didn’t they? They glowed because of the wonder of the new life they were carrying around inside them.
He was standing here thinking completely inappropriate thoughts about a woman he was supposed to be interviewing for a job, a woman who was pregnant.
A woman who probably had a boyfriend or a partner or a husband waiting on her hand on foot as she prepared to bring their child into the world.
And yet he was still standing here, thinking about her, even as these realities crystallised inside his mind.
Travis shook his head and muttered an oath, then returned to the front room with the glasses of iced water.
“Thank you,” Courtney said, as she took the glass from him and drank greedily.
As she set the glass down on the coffee table between them, Travis couldn’t help slide his gaze over her fingers, looking for any sign of a wedding band.
There wasn’t one. Although that, by itself, didn’t tell him much.
Not that it was any of his business whether she was married, single, in a relationship, or otherwise. She was here to interview for a job, and the only questions he should be thinking about were ones related to the work he needed her to do.
“Okay,” Travis said, settling into the sofa across from her and turning his mind to the matters at hand. “Tell me a little about your work experience. When we spoke on the phone, you said you were working in a furniture shop until recently?”
Courtney nodded and began talking about her job, the tasks she was responsible for, the processes she dealt with. She talked about how she’d taken on additional hours in order to work on the shop floor in a customer-facing role and earn a little more money while broadening her skills. She explained how much she enjoyed the administrative office work but also how she’d found herself thriving while dealing directly with customers, helping them with their furniture-buying choices and taking them step-by-step through the purchasing process to make sure they were satisfied with their experience with the furniture business she worked for.
With every word she said, Travis felt more and more convinced that Courtney Flynn had a good head on her shoulders. She was obviously smart and self-motivated, articulate and personable.
While she talked about her job, her work tasks, her skills, her expression was animated, but as she wrapped up her summary, her features grew clouded.
“I would still be working at the furniture shop right now,” Courtney said, her hands twisting in her lap. “But the business went bust. It was completely out of the blue and took all of us who worked there by surprise.”
Travis nodded and frowned. “Your friend, Olive, told me. I’m sorry to hear about what happened.”
“It’s not ideal,” she said with a small laugh. “But I’m not mentioning it to make you sorry for me. I just want you to know why I’m not working right now. I would’ve started maternity leave next month, but with the business being shut down… well, I’m keen to find any work that will help plug the gap.”
“I can understand that.”
Travis saw a flash of something behind her eyes—panic, maybe?—before she smoothed her expression with another smile. Not wanting to dwell on her redundancy, which was understandably upsetting for her, he decided to move on.
“Let me tell you more about the assistant job, to help you get a sense of whether it’s something you feel able to take on.”
For the next few minutes, he talked about the tasks he’d require her to do, encompassing the social media work and email correspondence load he needed taken off his hands. Pleased when she understood the gist of it at a detailed level, he grabbed his laptop and opened Facebook to show her the pile of notifications that had arrived in only the last few hours.
“With my usual assistant out of commission, I spent time yesterday evening dealing with the backlog,” Travis said. “But it took a long time, and that’s time I don’t have. I have a guidance document I put together for my assistant, giving her a sense of the tone and style I need when she interacts with fans online or via email, as well as some approved responses to the sorts of questions that come up. Readers typically want to know when the next book is coming out, what the title is, what it’s likely to be about, and often have lots of questions about other things, too. Are there any plans to make the books into a television series or films? Who would I want to play the role of Maura Shaw? Are certain places featured in the books real or did I make them up? And so on and so on.”
“I saw that for myself when I looked through your author social media profiles last night,” Courtney said. “Some questions came up again and again, and others had already been answered before. Some were specific, some were general.”
Travis nodded. “I’m very lucky to have such an engaged group of readers, and it’s important to me that I know they’re getting courteous and accurate answers to their questions, even if they’ve already been asked before. It’s not the reader’s job to trawl through reams of social media posts looking for the information they want. The document I prepared, and which I keep updated, usually helps my assistant answer about ninety per cent of the questions that pop up.”
He opened the document he’d put together and watched as Courtney scanned the text. Sitting beside her now on the sofa, instead of opposite, while he used the laptop and tilted the screen towards her, he saw the long line of her neck as she studied the document and the way her glossy ponytail fell across her shoulder. Her eyes, deep in concentration, were utterly absorbed.
“I’m sure I can get to grips with this work,” she said after a moment, her eyes still on the screen. “From what I looked at last night, I was able to pick out questions and answers that cropped up again and again, and I think I noticed where your assistant perhaps went out on a limb and used her initiative to answer questions that were more unusual. As she’s worked for you for a while, she obviously has more of a knack for that than I would have, but I’d be glad to put in extra time to make sure I get things right. I wouldn’t bother you with questions unless I really had to.”
Travis almost opened his mouth to say it wouldn’t be a bother to talk to her about any of this. He would enjoy talking to her, just as he was enjoying it right now. It might be a job interview, and it might only have lasted fifteen minutes so far, but he liked sitting here next to Courtney, talking, explaining, and showing her the ropes.
The whole point of having an assistant was that they lessened his load and didn’t bother him with things they ought to be able to work out by themselves. But if he hired Courtney, he couldn’t imagine being ‘bothered’ by her questions at all.
“It might take a few hours until you find your way,” Travis said. “But if you think you can handle the work, I’d like to hire you and see how it goes.”
Courtney’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
“Really,” he laughed.
“I thought my complete lack of experience would put you off. I know you need someone to get stuck in straight away.”
“And I don’t doubt that’s exactly what you’ll do. In all honestly, this work isn’t difficult. But it does need someone sensible and organised to deal with it. I think you’re that person. I could spend time searching for another assistant who’s already got more experience in this specific area of publishing and author marketing, but the truth is, I don’t have time for that right now. I need to finish writing my book.”
Courtney’s smile stretched wider with every word he said. “I won’t let you down, Travis.”
“There is one thing, though. When we spoke on the phone yesterday, you seemed to think this would be a job you’d come here to do.” He gestured to the room, to the house. “But this is a virtual assistant role, and everyone I’ve ever hired in the past to do this job has worked freelance from their own home, or their favourite café, or whatever.”
“Oh, right.” She seemed to give this some thought. “That makes sense.”
But her expression was uncertain. As he knew she’d never done this sort of work before, he guessed he ought to fill in a few more blanks about the nuts and bolts.
“I’ll give you the log in details for my social media accounts and add administrative rights on my systems so you can take care of this work. As you’re new to this and probably need time to find your way, I’m happy to hire you for ten hours a week to start with, which is a couple more than my current assistant, but if that gives you the time you need to get up to speed, then that’s what matters.”
“Right, uh-uh.”
“Once you’re logged in, it’s just a matter of getting stuck into dealing with the work, as we discussed. Liking and acknowledging comments and responding as necessary on social media. Sending quick email replies to readers who get in touch and answering any questions or supplying any info they need. Any emails that need my direct attention, we just filter them through the system like this.”
He flicked through to the email platform and showed her the easy work flow already set up there.
“Yes, I see.”
There was an edge to her voice, though, that made it clear that something was wrong.
“Does this all sound okay?” Travis asked.
“Uh, yes, it all sounds fine. It’s just that…” She looked embarrassed as she added, “I completely understand the whole ‘freelance work-from-home’ thing, obviously. But, the thing is… I don’t have a computer to do any of this work on.”
“Ah, okay.” Travis frowned, not expecting this answer.
A long beat passed, and Travis watched the hope and excitement disappear from Courtney’s eyes to be replaced with dismay.
“I’m so sorry, this is my mistake,” Courtney said, shaking her head and dropping her gaze. “I should have realised I’d need my own computer to do this job. My phone can cope with the basics when it comes to doing stuff online, but not the detailed work you need handled. What was I thinking? I’m an idiot! And I’m wasting your time.”
Shuffling to the edge of the sofa, she got to her feet, her hands on her baby bump as she stood and turned for the hallway.
“I really am sorry about this,” she said, her expression pained. “I’ll see myself out.”
“No, wait!”
Travis leapt to his feet, not wanting her to go. Despite the fact that she’d never done a job like this before, and didn’t even own the basic equipment required in order to function at a minimal level of competence, he couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving.
“I, er, I have a spare laptop I can loan you,” Travis said. “I brought a back-up machine with me here, in case something happened to my main computer when I’m in the middle of writing. You can borrow it.”
Courtney, already at the door that led to the hallway, turned around again. “I can’t take your spare computer from you. And anyway, you need someone who’s already set up for this work. I should’ve realised that before I came here. I’m causing more problems for you, not helping you solve the ones you already have.”
“Look, I don’t want to have to start hunting around the jobs sites searching for anyone else. I liked talking to you today, Courtney. I think you can do this work for me. If the only thing standing in the way is me loaning you a laptop, then let me loan you the laptop. Please?”
She was clearly torn. He could almost see the cogs in her mind working.
“I really think I can do a good job for you, Travis. But I feel bad that you would have to loan me a computer.”
“It’s just sitting in my bag doing nothing.” Crossing the room to the desk, he reached into the rucksack on the floor and pulled out the spare machine, then held it out to her. “Please don’t make me go on to the online freelance jobs sites to hire someone. It’s a jungle out there, with more clueless idiots than you could shake a stick at. I’ve already had enough bad luck in the past, hiring people who take my money in exchange for doing an absolutely terrible job that ends up being worse than useless.”
The quip made Courtney’s lips curve. Her eyes flicked to the laptop Travis was holding.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me borrowing your laptop?”
“I’m sure.”
She searched his expression and then gave a quick nod. “Thank you, Travis. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“You’re helping me as much as I’m helping you.” Returning to the sofa, he pointed to the screen on his own laptop, where the Facebook notifications alone had increased by more than a dozen during the time they’d spent chatting. “See what I mean?”
Courtney joined him again on the sofa. “I’ll get to work as soon as I’m all set on your borrowed laptop. You won’t have to worry about anything, Travis, I promise.”
They spent a few more minutes discussing the freelance contract Travis told her he’d send to her email address for her to read and sign, the non-disclosure agreement he required in order to protect his author business, the pay rate, and a few other things. Courtney was happy with everything he outlined and then surprised him with a question of her own.
“I feel bad asking this, considering you’re already having to loan me your laptop, but do you have a copy of any of your books I could borrow? I think it will help me interact with your readers if I’ve at least read one of your Maura Shaw stories.”
Travis was impressed. Ideally, any new assistant he used would have a passing knowledge of his popular Maura Shaw series, but given the emergency situation he’d found himself in after Ruth’s unfortunate accident, he’d thought it wise not to worry too much about whether the temporary stand-in knew anything about his books. The priority was finding an assistant to handle his marketing load, and the cheat-sheet he provided would allow most competent people to find their feet without having to read the books themselves.
That Courtney apparently did want to read the books was encouraging.
“I have a copy of the first book with me here,” he said, returning to the desk and digging it out from beneath a pile of notebooks. “When I need to check details from previous books, I usually rely on the files on my computer, but there are some detailed sections from the first novel that turned out to be important for this new story, and when that happens I like having the physical copy handy.”
He passed the book to her, and she examined the cover before flicking through the pages. “Will it slow your writing down if I take this away with me?”
“No, I don’t need it anymore. I finished writing the relevant chapters a few days ago.”
Smiling, she tucked the book inside her handbag. “I’ll look forward to reading this. Thank you.”
“I hope you enjoy it. Now, before you go, I’ll set this laptop up so it’s ready for you to use, and sort you out with login details and so on.”
He spent fifteen minutes dealing with the technical and admin bits and pieces while Courtney asked more questions about this and that. Once she was set up with the borrowed laptop, he turned his attention to the next batch of social media posts he planned to post to his author profiles.
“I typically post something new every couple of days. I deal with creating the original posts, and then it’s your job to handle all the comments and responses, as we discussed. I’ll keep the next few posts simple and straightforward, rather than dive into anything detailed from previous books or share any specific news about what’s coming soon. Sometimes I put together a few words about scenes I wrote in previous books, or characters I especially enjoyed writing, but as those posts typically prompt a lot of reader responses and detailed comments, I’ll swap them for something that will be easier for you to handle. I enjoy sharing quotes about reading and quotes about books in general, and the fans like those too, so I’ll stick with those next.”
“Thank you.”
“I often share photos too, from being out and about in London. As I’ve been holed up here writing since I arrived, I’ve had no opportunities for anything like that, but I have some photos spare that I haven’t shared yet from a research trip I took before I came to Hamblehurst, so I’ll line those up for sharing too. Those sorts of posts get lots of interaction, so I’ll wait a few days before throwing you in at the deep end.”
“Sounds good,” Courtney laughed.
“If there’s anything you need to ask, or anything you want to chat about, you have my number. And we’re only a few doors away from each other, so we can always arrange another meeting if that helps.”
It amused him that he was offering to meet up again, should Courtney need more help. The whole point of hiring an assistant was so he could offload all this work onto someone else, and yet now he was suggesting further meetings between the two of them. He told himself it was just because she was new to all this and might need further guidance, and that was certainly a part of it.
But it was also because he wanted to see her again. He hoped she would have questions, lots of them, even if they did interrupt his writing time.
How mad was that?
Incredibly mad.
And yet, as Courtney got to her feet to leave, Travis thought it maybe wasn’t so mad after all. How could he not want to see her again, chat with her again, spend time with her again?
What right-thinking man wouldn’t want to do those things?
No doubt Courtney’s boyfriend or partner or husband—the man who was the father of her unborn child—thought exactly the same thing.
Travis frowned as he followed Courtney to the front door. He’d do well to keep his lunatic thoughts in check. Courtney was now his freelance contractor, providing a vital service he urgently required, and she was also little more than a stranger to him with a personal life he knew nothing about.
It struck him that the gut-punch reaction he’d felt from the moment he set eyes on her might actually just mean he needed to get out more and interact with people his own age, instead of spending all of his time lost inside a fictional world centred around a late middle-aged sleuth and her rag-tag band of friends and foes.
Travis walked her to the door, and when Courtney stepped outside, she turned and graced him with a smile that made him momentarily forget his own name.
“Thanks again for this opportunity, Travis. I won’t let you down.”
“I never thought you would.”
Her smile widened and her dark blue eyes shone beneath the sunshine as she clutched the laptop in one hand and waved with the other.
“Oh, before I go, I hope you won’t mind if I say something?”
“Sure.”
Nodding to the flower pots beside the doorstep, she gave him a wry look. “These little pansies might need a drink of water. They look parched, the poor things.”
Travis glanced at the pots and the wilting flowers inside them. “I hadn’t even noticed them. Thanks for pointing it out. I’ll grab a watering can and get them sorted.”
He’d promised his sister that he’d look after the garden while he stayed there to save her, and the owner’s other friends, from having to pop round to water the pots as they’d done before he arrived. Travis realised he’d completely forgotten all about it while he’d disappeared into the work of writing his next book.
He appreciated Courtney’s reminder of the promise he’d made. She’d already saved his bacon, and she hadn’t even started working for him properly yet.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, waving one last time as she stepped through the garden gate.
“Yes, see you soon,” Travis replied, hoping he would, even as his gaze skimmed her baby bump as she walked away and he told himself he must be out of his mind.
With a sigh, he went to fetch the watering can to deal with the flowers he’d neglected, before returning to his manuscript where he at least had the illusion of being in control.