A pleasant sounding woman named Sybil answered and launched into a long list of the services they offered, from the lowest tier to the highest. Sybil suggested that a meet and greet with King himself might be arranged under certain circumstances. No guarantee of course.
Sara took notes on her phone and was about to thank her and hang up, but Sybil was clearly having a slow day. She kept talking. Sara didn’t mind. This was exactly the type of information she was looking for.
Sybil told her they were creating similar tours all over the country involving well-known authors, both living and dead. Features would include visiting the author’s hometown, exploring various book locations and touring the author’s residence if they or their heirs were amenable.
“You need to check back in a month or so,” she said. “We recently learned M.R. Morrison’s secret identity and we’re determined to have a presence in Wagon Train, Montana.”
Sara almost dropped her phone. “Oh, really?”
“Our preliminary research tells us there’s a bit of local flavor and the town’s name is great, but otherwise Wagon Train needs to step it up. Their western wear store is called Hannigan’s, ifyou can believe it. Sounds like an Irish pub, not a place where you buy boots and cowboy hats.”
“Maybe so, but I doubt the owners would?—”
“They will if they want to be featured on the tour. Oh, and it gets worse. A little bookshop in town features M.R. Morrison, but they call it L’Amour and More. Hel-lo.Call itMorrison’s, right? These people need help with a capital H.”
“Interesting.”
“We wouldn’t lead with those suggestions, of course. We just need to get our foot in the door and then gradually bring the town up to speed. We can assume that the author, who’s a woman it turns out, will be looking for someone to manage the tourist angle now that she’s come out of hiding. And we’ll be there to offer our services.”
“I see.”
“We’ve run into some trouble getting in touch with her, but we’ll break through that slight roadblock soon. We’re persistent.”
“I can tell. And thank you so much. This has been very informative.”
“Would you like to book a Stephen King tour?”
“Let me check on my friend’s schedule. Thanks for all your help. Have a great day.” She disconnected.
Was Desiree in her office? It was on the other side of the revolving bookcase, but the unspoken household rule was that only an emergency justified disturbing her.
Smiling at her ridiculous self, she moved back, opened her arms and used her deepest voice. “Open sesame.”
Laughter came from the other side and the bookcase revolved. Desiree stood there grinning. “The kids used to do thatallthe time. I haven’t heard it in years.”
“Did I disturb you?”
“Not really. I heard you on the phone and I wondered who you were talking to. Or not talking to. Whoever was on the other end must have been a chatterbox.”
“They were. I’ll give you the name of the company and if you ever hear from them, show them the door. They’re terrible.”
“Oh? What do they do?”
“They create tours revolving around well-known authors — the settings for their books, their hometown, maybe even a tour of their house and exclusive meet and greets. You don’t want to have anything to do with them.”
“Not if you don’t like them. Out of curiosity, why’d you call them?”
“Just an idea I had.” And it was still half-baked. Was she crazy to suggest it before she’d worked out the details?
“I wonder if we’re on the same page. Lucky, Oksana, Trent and I have been talking about doing something similar. The tourists will come, and if we don’t organize things for them to do, they may get up to mischief, like trying to find Rowdy Ranch.”
“You mentioned something to me about that. You said you were worried about loss of privacy.”
“So you decided to research tour companies for us? That’s so kind of you. If you’re willing to keep looking, I’ll pay you for your time. After all, this is your area.”
“Actually, I called to gather ideas. I was so horrified by what that woman said that my first thought wasoh, my God, what if Desiree accidentally hires someone like that?”
“What was your second thought?”
