Chapter 4
“Good afternoon,” a man on the phone said. His voice was crisp and had an English accent. “Am I speaking with Penny Quinn, owner of that delightful bookstore, The Tattered Page, in Heartsprings Valley?”
“Speaking,” Penny replied.
“I’m so sorry to be calling out of the blue, Ms. Quinn. My name is Nigel Farraday. I’m acting as a representative of Townsend Brown, the publisher.”
Penny’s brow furrowed. She’d heard the man’s name before — but where? “How can I help you, Mr. Farraday?”
“Please, call me Nigel. I wonder, have you spoken recently with your friend, Holly North?”
“I have, yes,” Penny said, glancing at her friend, who was staring at her anxiously. “She said someone might be calling.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Nigel said. “So prompt of her. Please convey my gratitude and best regards.”
“I’ll do that.” Penny took a deep breath. “Holly told me that Daniel Bedford’s publisher has a business proposition for me relating to his, um, controversial Christmas article.”
“Indeed,” Nigel said with a heavy sigh. “That dreadful essay. So unfortunate.”
“You’re with his publisher?”
“I’ve been hired by his publisher to handle the situation. My firm does public relations, reputation management, crisis response, that sort of thing.”
Penny had only a vague idea what he meant by that and normally would have asked a bunch of questions to learn more, but since she was gearing up to disappoint him with a very firm no, she kept her curiosity in check. “Well,” she said, “Mr. Bedford certainly needs all of the help he can get.”
“Indeed he does, Ms. Quinn,” Nigel said, his tone serious. “Indeed he does.”
She glanced at her watch. “I don’t want to keep you and I’m in the middle of a busy day, so….”
“Yes, of course.” His voice became crisper. “Let me explain why I called. We’re preparing what we in the public relations business call an ‘apology tour.’”
“An ‘apology tour,’” Penny repeated.
“In which the offender — in this case, Mr. Bedford — demonstrates, through media interviews and public events, how terribly wrong he was about his transgression and how truly, deeply, profoundly sorry he is for causing everyone so much distress.”
“Your plan is to get him to show the world how much he loves Christmas?”
“Exactly, Ms. Quinn.”
She paused, weighing her words. “Can I ask how you’re planning to do that? He’s made his feelings abundantly clear.”
“Indeed. You’ve identified his core challenge. An apology tour works only when the transgressor’s apology and personal transformation are sincere. Given how eloquently he explained himself in that dreadful essay, a simple press release or media appearance will not suffice.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“We’re going to have him immerse himself in Christmas and emerge from his experiences a new and better man.”
“Your plan is to have him participate in various holiday activities and discover how wonderful they actually are?”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“And you’re going to have him do that … here? In Heartsprings Valley?”
“Your charming hamlet is well-known for its exuberant embrace of the Christmas spirit.”
“That’s true, but —”
“Snowmen everywhere, I’m told. An enormous army of them — a veritable holiday smorgasbord. Someone showed me a photo of a snow-hippopotamus. A very happy holiday hippo he is.”
“Yes, but —”
“And that town square of yours — utterly charming with all that fresh snow and seasonal decor. So picturesque. And of course the joyful caroling every night.”
“You seem to know a lot about our little town.”
“A former protege of mine — brilliant young woman, just marvelous — grew up there.”
“Oh,” Penny said, connecting the dots. “I just realized why I know your name. My friend Clara worked for you in New York.”
“She did indeed. I called her this morning and left a voicemail, by the way. How is she?”
“Great. She and her family are doing well.”
“Am I correct in understanding that a second child is on the way?”
“Due in March.”
“And she’s still employed as your hamlet’s assistant mayor?”
“Deputy mayor, yes.”
He sighed. “I wasn’t happy about her decision to leave New York, but there’s no fighting the power of love.”
Penny paused, surprised to hear him say that. This Nigel fellow seemed so … business-focused.
“I speak from experience,” he continued. “Thirty-one years ago, I flew to New York for a short business trip and happened, by chance, to meet a wonderful American girl. We’ve been happily married for thirty years.”
Penny smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, you still haven’t told me why you want Daniel Bedford to come to Heartsprings Valley. There are a lot of places closer to New York that do great things at Christmas.”
“What your little hamlet has, in addition to an abundance of small-town charm, is a friend of the author with a spare bedroom available for an extended stay.”
“You mean Gabe North.”
“Also, his wife Holly — such a kind, helpful woman — agreed to make the introductions that matter so much in isolated outposts like yours.”
“You seem to have things well in hand.”
“We’re working to make that so, yes.”
“I suppose you’re calling me because you want the bookstore to participate in some way?”
“That’s part of what we have in mind, yes.”
Penny took a breath to prepare herself. Here it was: the offer. “Part?”
“Mr. Bedford will need someone to accompany him as he participates in various activities, Ms. Quinn. Someone who is part of the community and also understands readers and publishing. Someone who —”
“Hang on,” Penny said, trying to quell the irritation flaring through her. “Are you about to suggest that his Christmas tour guide should be me?”
“Indeed,” he said without hesitation. “I’m proposing exactly that.”
“Mr. Farraday, this is the busiest time of the year for me. I can’t —”
“Before you give me your answer,” he said, pressing on, “allow me to explain the terms.”
Penny took another breath. She’d promised Holly that she’d listen to the offer before saying no, so keeping that promise meant she’d have to, well, listen to the offer. “Go on.”
“As mentioned, the publisher is keen to resolve this crisis quickly. Daniel Bedford is one of their top sellers. Apparently there’s a movie deal in the works. A boycott of his books would be very damaging to the publisher’s bottom line.”
“Which is your way of saying…?”
“What I’m saying, Ms. Quinn, is that the publisher is motivated.” He let that sink in before continuing. “If you agree to accompany Mr. Bedford on his Christmas activities, the publisher will increase its discount for your bookstore to sixty percent for all of its books for an entire year.”
Penny’s eyes widened. The discounts offered by publishers for their books were a major factor in her bookstore’s bottom line — the bigger the discount, the bigger her profit.
The publisher was one of the largest — her bookstore sold tons of books published by them.
But for the publisher to increase its discount for all of its books was, well, unprecedented.
In her experience, publishers simply didn’t do that.
“A sixty percent discount?” she said. “For all of their books? For an entire year?”
“In addition,” Nigel said, “they will pay you a fee for your time.” When he told her the amount, her eyes grew even wider.
The terms they were offering were … extremely generous. Well beyond anything she’d expected.
Surely, she thought, her mind racing, they had better options? “Shouldn’t you hire a media handler for this?”
“We normally would, yes, but for this particular effort, local knowledge is essential. Also, to be frank, the timing and location are factors. My team in New York are already completely booked. I’ve been told you’ve met previously with the publisher’s team.”
“Well, yes, several of their people, at industry events.”
“They speak highly of you and are confident you possess all of the necessary attributes. Based on this conversation, I’m very much inclined to agree.”
“Mr. Farraday,” she said, stalling for time. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Please, Ms. Quinn, call me Nigel.”
“Nigel,” she said. “Your offer is not what I was expecting.”
“It’s a wonderful opportunity, Ms. Quinn, for you and The Tattered Page.”
He was right about that. The discount and the fee were substantial. Things she’d been putting off could be addressed sooner.
A jolt went through her. Things like the roof.
She could fix the roof!
“Is this what ‘crisis management’ is about, Nigel?” she asked, trying to buy more time. “Throwing money at a problem to make it go away?”
He chuckled. “Only when our aim is true, Ms. Quinn.”
“Please,” she said, her mind still awhirl, “call me Penny.”
“Penny,” he replied, “you’ll recall I said the publisher is motivated.”
“Yes.”
He lowered his voice and she could almost see him leaning closer. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve been told the publisher is twice as motivated as I indicated previously.”
It took her a second to realize what he was saying. She blinked, unsure what to think. Why, if he was their representative, was he telling her what he was apparently telling her?
“Nigel,” she began.
“Yes, Penny?”
Her heart started pounding. She wasn’t actually considering doing this, was she? She had so much going on already. The last thing she needed, especially in the midst of the holiday craziness, was yet another responsibility.
But the roof, she thought, her mind envisioning water dripping endlessly and buckets of water sloshing messily as she carried them, day after day after day, down the winding metal stairs.
A tremble went through her. Was she really doing this? Did she really want to do what she was apparently about to do?
“If you double the fee,” she said, her decision revealing itself as the words left her mouth, “and if the discount goes for two years instead of one, then you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Nigel barked out a pleased laugh. “Excellent, Penny, excellent! I’m so pleased we’ll be working together.”