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’reallneighbours. 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 myfriend 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 minddisappeared into the world he loved, the world he’d created, and to which he couldn’t wait to return.
10
Courtney stirredthe pot of pasta sauce she’d cooked on the hob and was adding extra oregano to the bubbling mixture when she heard the front door open as her cousin returned home from work.
“Oh, something smells amazing in here!” Rosie said when she appeared in the kitchen, dumping her bag on the kitchen chair. “It looks like you’ve been busy.”
As Rosie scanned the pots on the cooker, the plates waiting to be filled on the counter, and the settings laid out at the tiny two-person kitchen table, Courtney turned off the burner beneath the pan.
“I made chicken and vegetable pasta for dinner,” she said. “It’s nothing fancy, but after your long day at work, I figured you’d enjoy coming home to a nice hot meal.”
“You’re a star, Courtney.” Rosie crossed the small kitchen and hugged her cousin, before dipping a spoon into the pot of pasta sauce and sampling it. “That’s delicious. Ooh, and you’ve made garlic bread, too.”
“I might have made too much,” Courtney laughed. “We’ll be eating leftovers for days.”
“It won’t go to waste. I hope you haven’t been on your feet too long standing at the hob.”
Courtney waved away her concern. “I’m fine. It was nice to potter in your lovely kitchen and make a nice meal. After living at the bedsit for weeks and having nothing but a kettle in my room, I enjoyed the chance to cook again.”
