Rosie disappeared through to the hallway to answer the door. As Courtney speared the last piece of pasta onto her fork, she heard the murmur of conversation move from the front door and inside the house. A moment later, Rosie reappeared in the kitchen with a companion at her side.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Rosie announced.
Courtney smiled in surprise to see the older lady she’d met at the park earlier in the day, Olive Nimmo.
“Hello, dear,” Olive said, then glanced at the plates of food on the table. “Oh, I’m interrupting your dinner.”
“No you’re not,” Rosie said. “We just finished eating and I was about to wash up. Can I make you some tea, Olive?”
“Thank you, but no. This is just a flying visit. I meant to drop by earlier this afternoon, but I got waylaid when I stopped off at the Hamblehurst local history museum and was conscripted to assist with a new exhibit board they were putting together.” Olive shook her head. “I should know better by now that it’s impossible to just stop off in there to say hello to a few friends without being put to work. Anyway, enough of my rambling on. The reason I’m here is to see Courtney and let her know about an exciting opportunity that I believe might be right up her street.”
“I had no idea you two were friends,” Rosie said, giving Courtney a baffled look as she carried their plates to the sink.
“We arenewfriends,” Olive said. “We bumped into each other at the park today and I recognised Courtney from when I dropped by your father’s birthday party last week.”
“Ah,” Rosie said. “So, what’s this exciting opportunity all about, Olive?”
“Well, I was at an event this afternoon at the library. The book club managed to convince a rather well-known mystery author to come along and speak to us about his books. His name is Travis Stone. Have you heard of him?”
“I’m not much of a reader, I’m ashamed to admit,” Rosie said.
“I’ve heard of him,” Courtney said. “I think I remember my mum having a couple of his paperbacks around the house.”
Olive beamed at this. “Well, after the Q&A session at the end, I happened to get talking to Mr Stone and it turns out he is in desperate need of an assistant. The person he usually workswith has suffered a terrible road accident and is recovering in hospital.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” Courtney said.
“Indeed, it is. Mr Stone only found out about the accident because his assistant phoned him while we were all enjoying coffee and cake after his book talk. I couldn’t help overhearing the gist of his conversation. When Mr Stone said he’d have to find someone new to take his assistant’s place while she recovered, I couldn’t help but think of you, Courtney.”
“Me?” Courtney blinked. “Gosh, I don’t know anything about writing or books.”
Olive laughed and waved a hand. “You don’t need to know anything about those things, not really. From what I gather, his assistant handled a lot of his social media tasks and helped sift through his email and correspondence. Considering the sorts of administrative and organisational and customer-focused tasks you told me you performed at the furniture shop where you used to work, I feel sure you could handle these tasks, too. The work is only a few hours each week, and it’s only temporary, but you said that was exactly the sort of opportunity you were looking for.”
“It sounds perfect, Courtney,” Rosie said as she rinsed plates at the sink.
“I think so, too,” Olive said. “I get the impression that Mr Stone is desperate to find someone to plug the gap so he can concentrate on his writing. He was telling us that he’s working hard to finish a new book at the moment, and that he’s come to stay here in Hamblehurst for a few weeks to get some peace and quiet and make some progress. I can’t confess to know much about all this social media business, but I imagine he won’t want to be waylaid dealing with all that sort of work, and will be very grateful to find someone to take it off his hands while he keeps writing. I promised him I’d speak to you and find out if you might be interested in the role.”
“Are you surehe’sinterested inme?” Courtney asked. “I’ve never done anything like that kind of work before.”
“I’m sure Mr Stone will explain the ins and outs of what he would need you to do. If you’re the sort of smart and resourceful young woman you struck me as being during our short chat earlier today, then I feel sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time. All these social media thingamajigs are bread-and-butter to all you youngsters, after all. And as for the email and correspondence tasks Mr Stone happened to mention, well, that’s probably not much different to the email tasks you dealt with in your last job.”
Courtney thought about what the older lady was saying, wondering about whether this might, justmight, be a possibility.
“I can see you’re tempted, dear,” Olive smiled. “Perhaps you’d like to talk to Mr Stone and find out more about the job. After all, I’m just telling you what little I know, gleaned from a very brief conversation with the man. Shall I give you his phone number?”
“Yes, give her his phone number,” Rosie said, finishing at the sink and drying her hands on a tea towel. “Courtney, I think you should definitely get in touch with this guy to find out more. Even if it’s only a few hours a week, I bet it’ll make you feel better and give your confidence a boost after what happened this morning at your old job.”
Courtney couldn’t disagree with that. And there was something about the serendipity of all this that made her want to find out more. After the shock of suddenly being made redundant, she needed to find something to earn a little money before the baby arrived, even if it was only temporary. Wasn’t this exactly the sort of thing she’d been hoping for?
“Olive, I can’t thank you enough for thinking of me,” Courtney said. “I’d definitely like to chat to the author and find out more. Let me take down his phone number.”
She added his contact details to her phone as Olive recited his number. His name, Travis Stone, was vaguely familiar, and she was almost certain her late mother had enjoyed some of his mystery novels. She thought she’d probably seen his books for sale in the supermarket, too, his author name standing out in bold lettering on the front covers.
The idea of working for a successful author, even if only for a few hours, was completely bizarre.
“I suggest you contact him straight away,” Olive advised. “The poor young man sounded quite dismayed, not only at the sad news about what had happened to his assistant, but also at the prospect of being without a much-needed helping hand at this time. I feel sure he’ll want to speak to you as soon as possible.”
“I’ll drop him a message this evening,” Courtney promised.
