What Goes on Tour

by Boston, Claire

  Kate looked to Adrian.

  Adrian looked at George.

  “Nothing’s scheduled for the afternoon.”

  A whole afternoon free. Adrian wanted to get out and show Kate some of the sights around Melbourne. “Don’t you want to go sightseeing?” he asked Kate.

  Kate twisted her hands together.

  He hated putting her on the spot.

  “I tell you what,” Libby said. “Why don’t you go sightseeing with your uncle and you can give me a call when you get back? I’m staying another night in the hotel, so you can call my room if you want to do some writing.”

  Kate had hope in her eyes, seeking permission. He couldn’t refuse her.

  “Sure.” Libby was being very accommodating. He couldn’t prevent the twinge of suspicion. What did she want in return? Everyone wanted something from him now he was famous. Whether it was to be seen with him for their two minutes of fame or to boost their careers, they were never interested in who he was as a person. They were the same kind of people who had turned a blind eye to his welfare when he was a child. When Daniel died, he’d found out who truly cared for him.

  “That would be great!” Kate said.

  They pulled up at the hotel and piled out of the car. George handed the keys to the valet. After travelling up in the elevator together, Libby said her goodbyes at her floor and left them.

  Adrian let out a sigh as the elevator closed.

  “You should have walked her to her door,” Kate said.

  He looked at his niece in surprise.

  “It’s late and it’s good manners.”

  George coughed back a laugh.

  Kate was right. It was good manners to walk a lady to her door. But it would make it seem like a date, which it wasn’t. It was too late now anyway. “I’ll make sure I do it next time,” he said, sure there would be no next time. The thought of being alone with Libby made him nervous. He wasn’t sure what he would do.

  The elevator dinged at their floor. He said goodnight to George and waited for Kate to give George a kiss goodnight before bundling his niece into the room. It was way past her bedtime and she needed sleep.

  And he needed to put Libby out of his mind.

  ***

  Libby was running late. She’d forgotten to set her alarm the night before and had woken at nine o’clock. Her meeting with her publisher was across town at ten. Leaping from the bed, she ordered a taxi and flung herself in and then out of the shower. She was low on clean clothes but luckily she’d saved her business suit for this meeting at the end of her tour.

  Her chest was tight and she reminded herself to breathe.

  The phone rang as she finished dressing and the concierge informed her the taxi was waiting for her. Quickly she smeared on some clear lip gloss and grabbed her bag, checking she had all she needed, and then took her room key and raced downstairs.

  At five to ten she walked into her publisher’s building.

  The receptionist greeted her by name and offered her a seat. “Donna and Simone will be with you in a moment. They’re just finishing up another meeting.”

  Libby sat on the navy blue sofa at reception. The wooden coffee table in front of her held a selection of magazines and catalogues, but nothing of any interest. On the walls surrounding her were framed covers of some of the books they’d published. The most successful ones. She was determined one of her covers would be up there one day.

  She focused on her breathing, trying to calm down after her mad rush across town.

  By the time her publicist, Donna, came out, the residual stress was gone.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Donna said, her hand outstretched.

  Libby rose and clasped the woman’s well manicured hand. “No problem. It wasn’t long.” Her bruised hand was starting to feel better.

  She followed Donna along the corridor to a small meeting room where her editor, Simone, was waiting.

  “Libby, lovely to see you again.” Simone stood and they shook hands.

  As she sat down, Donna poured her a cup of coffee and offered her a blueberry muffin, which Libby gladly accepted. Her stomach was telling her she hadn’t had breakfast.

  “As you know this meeting is to talk over the book tour and find out what worked and what didn’t work. It’s always good to know how we can improve our tours,” Donna said.

  Libby retrieved her notebook, where she’d made notes of things she wanted to say, and they discussed each leg of the tour.

  Libby was pleased they took her feedback seriously and took their own notes.

  “Your next book is due at the end of August. How’s it going?” Simone asked.

  She’d been hoping Simone wouldn’t ask. “The first draft is almost complete.”

  “Good. We wanted to discuss whether we can change the deadlines for the following two books.”

  “Oh. To when?” Her books were currently scheduled to be released nine months apart and it was a schedule she was comfortable with. She was working four days a week and couldn’t afford to give up temping yet, as much as she wanted to.

  “We’d like to release them six months apart.”

  Six months? Libby’s heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest. “I’m not sure.” She didn’t want to say no, flat out, but she wasn’t sure how she would manage it. She spent all of her free time writing as it was. It had been one of her ex-boyfriend’s issues.

  She mentally reviewed her writing plan, calculating how many words she would have to write per week to meet the new deadline.

  Too many.

  But this was what she wanted. This was her dream. If only she could live off the advance she’d been paid, but it wasn’t enough, especially with her recent car woes.

  “Will that be a problem?”

  Libby considered the question. If she wrote faster, she would have more books available, and maybe she could finally give up her day job. It was going to be hard. She’d have to get up earlier and write for longer after work. But she didn’t want to lose this opportunity. Her stomach squirmed. She’d make it work.

  She had to.

  She took another deep breath and forced herself to smile at Simone. “Not at all. I can meet the new deadline.”

  “Good,” Simone said. “I’ll get the paperwork.”

  ***

  It was three o’clock before Libby arrived back at the hotel. Donna and Simone had taken her out to lunch to celebrate the end of the tour and they’d had champagne and good food.

  She pushed her hotel card into its slot and dumped her bag on the floor near the little writing desk. The stress of accepting the new deadline washed over her. She was exhausted.

  With the tour completed, her plan had been to take the month off to finish her book, but that was no longer possible. She couldn’t survive a whole month on the one hundred dollars and change she had in her bank account. Her car had chosen the worst possible moment to die. When she returned home she’d have to put her efforts into finding a new job instead of finishing her manuscript.

  Unless she applied for the job as Kate’s nanny.

  The money would cover her living costs and give her a nice security blanket in case another unexpected expense came up.

  Adrian’s schedule might help her to meet her new deadline, too.

  She had to focus on the bigger picture. She was a published author and one day she might be able to live on the income from her writing. But right now she had to earn enough to pay the bills.

  She wished one day would hurry up.

  Turning on her laptop, she waited for it to boot before opening her email. The first item made her pause, her body frozen for a second before she double-clicked on it to make it larger and hopefully change the message she’d read.

  It was from her realtor. The lease on her rental property was up in five weeks and the owners were going to demolish and rebuild. She’d have to find somewhere else to live.

  She groaned. Could her day get any worse?

  Rental properties in
her price range were in short supply and had ten or more applicants for each house. How the hell was she going to get a property if she was offered the position as Kate’s nanny? Any owner would take a person the realtor had met over someone who applied online. And she’d barely have time to pack her stuff.

  Then another bit of reality crashed down on her. She didn’t have a permanent job. It hadn’t been an issue when she’d applied for her current property as she’d been working full time. Now though … Who’d want a tenant who only had temping jobs?

  The thought of asking her parents if she could stay with them flashed out of her head as quickly as it had flashed in.

  She was not going to give them the opportunity to lecture her on her bad career choice.

  The phone rang, breaking through her thoughts.

  “Hello?”

  “Is that Libby?” The voice was young and female.

  “Yes. How are you, Kate?”

  “Great. We just got back and I was wondering whether you could help me with my story?” Her voice was uncertain.

  Libby weighed her options. With her new deadline, and now the need to find somewhere else to live, she really should say no – but she had promised. Part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t read the realtor’s email. She wanted to forget her problems for a short while and Kate would help her do that. She ignored the little part of her that wanted to see Adrian again. “Sure. I’ll be up in a jiffy.” She got the room details, hung up and seized the little notebook and pen set she’d bought after leaving the restaurant.

  She would push her worries aside for the afternoon and help a little girl with her dreams.

  She’d focus on her own dreams and problems tomorrow.

  Chapter 4

  There was one other person in the elevator when Libby entered it. Libby smiled at her and went to push the button for the top floor but it was already lit. She stood back on the opposite side of the elevator to the woman.

  The woman had her phone out and was doing something on it. Libby tapped her foot to the elevator music while surreptitiously taking note of the woman’s details. She was tall, a few inches taller than Libby, and her long blonde hair showed just a hint of dark roots. The blue dress she wore hugged her figure, leaving no doubt that she was curved in all the right places. Libby wondered if the woman’s breasts were as natural as her hair color and then smirked at her uncharitable thought.

  They reached the top floor and the elevator dinged open. Libby walked out, checked the room numbers on the wall and headed in the direction of Kate’s suite. Finding it, she knocked on the door and stood back. She glanced down the corridor as the woman from the elevator paused for a second, stared at her and then turned around and walked back the way she came.

  That was odd.

  The door opened a crack, the security lock in place, and Kate’s head poked around. “It’s Libby,” she called and the door shut again.

  The security lock clanked back and then the door opened wide.

  “Come in.” Kate beckoned her inside.

  Libby entered. “How was your day?”

  “It was great. I wanted to go to Luna Park, but it was shut, so we went to the markets and rode in a tram.”

  “Did you buy anything?”

  Kate grinned. “A bit. Uncle Adrian tells me I have to carry anything I buy, so I can’t go overboard.”

  Libby followed the girl into the suite and stared.

  It was far bigger than her room, that was for sure. It was almost as big as her beach shack she lived in back at home and a hell of a lot more fancy. The room had a sitting area with big, soft couches, a large flat-screen television and a coffee table. Kate’s laptop was set up on a dining table big enough for six. There was even a fancy kitchenette with a full-sized fridge. Two doors led off the main room, probably to the bedrooms.

  Adrian stood up from the couch and moved to greet her. “How was your meeting?” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

  Surprised he’d remembered her plans, she ignored her rapidly beating heart. She hadn’t reacted this way to Kent. “Good,” she said, then sighed, remembering her new deadlines.

  “Do they want you to write more books?” Kate asked, her hands clenched together against her chest like a prayer.

  “They want me to write them faster – a book every six months rather than every nine months.”

  “Yay! More Jessop Chronicles.” Kate pumped the air.

  “Can you write a book that quickly?” Adrian asked.

  “I have to now.” Libby forced a smile. “My next job is only four days a week, so it should give me some more time.” Or else she’d go without sleep.

  Adrian’s frown was so fleeting Libby wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  “Oh, can we have the double choc, whipped cream, marshmallow delight?” Kate smiled with hope.

  “What else?” He strode toward the kitchenette. “How about you, Libby?” He turned back for her answer.

  “With a description like that, how could I say no?” She smiled at him and he blinked quickly. Libby’s whole body warmed. She was so aware of him. It wasn’t a good thing. Men weren’t interested in her and she didn’t have time for them.

  “Come and see what I’ve written,” Kate said and pulled her toward the dining table.

  Libby allowed herself to be led over to one of the chairs. She retrieved the notebook and pen she’d bought out of her bag. “I saw this and thought you might like it.” She handed it to Kate.

  Kate took the gift. “Wow,” she breathed. “A writing notebook.” She flipped it open and paged through it. “It’s like yours.”

  “The perfect size for your bag.”

  “And it’s for me to keep?”

  “Of course. Every writer needs a notebook.”

  Kate hugged it against her chest. “Thank you.” She opened it and wrote her name on the front page. Then she jumped up and raced over to Adrian. “See what Libby bought me?”

  “That’s very kind of her.” He smiled at Libby, the pleasure filling his whole face.

  Libby’s body went hot, head to toe – she felt like she was glowing like a coal.

  He had some smile. It was wide-eyed and honest, friendly with a hint of something else. Nothing like the sleazy, I’m-a-rock-god-everyone-should-worship-me smile Kent had.

  Kate pinched a marshmallow from the bench and raced back over, turning her laptop so Libby could see what she had written. “I’ve created a nemesis for Lilly Lionheart.”

  Grateful for the distraction, Libby bent over the laptop. “Let me see.” She read through the description, impressed by the girl’s imagination. “This is great.”

  Kate beamed for a second and then sobered. “What do I do now?”

  “Do you know how the story starts?”

  “I think so.”

  “All right. You can do a couple of things. You could dive right in and start writing the story, or you could outline what the story is about.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m more of a plotter than a pantser.”

  “A what-er?” Kate scrunched up her face.

  Libby grinned. “A plotter. I outline the whole story first and then I start writing. There are other writers who are pantsers – they write by the seat of their pants, which means they generally only have a vague idea of where the story is going and they let the story lead them.”

  “Which is better?”

  “Neither. It’s whatever suits the way you write. You’ll have to decide for yourself.”

  Kate chewed on her bottom lip as Adrian walked over carrying two mugs that could only be described as sinful. The top of each mug was filled with whipped cream, sprinkled with chocolate pieces and small marshmallows, and finished with a swirl of chocolate sauce.

  He placed the mugs on the table in front of Kate and Libby.

  “Wow.”

  “Wait until you try it,” Adrian said as he went to get his own mug.

&nb
sp; Libby shifted the laptop to the side so she didn’t spill anything on it and then lifted the mug toward her. She used the spoon Adrian had given her to stir in some of the cream, which was beginning to melt, and then took a careful sip.

  It was a chocolate-marshmallow explosion. She groaned. “Oh my God.” She lifted her eyes skyward.

  “I know.” Kate grinned. “It’s awesome.”

  Adrian sat down opposite her and took a sip.

  “Where did you learn to make this?” Libby asked.

  Kate’s smile disappeared. “It was my mama’s recipe.”

  Was. Past tense. Libby checked Adrian’s reaction, and there was sadness in his eyes. “Well, that makes your mama awesome too,” she told Kate.

  Kate took a sip of her drink. “I guess so.”

  Libby cast her mind about for something else to talk about. “So, do you think you’ll be a plotter or a pantser?”

  Kate ran her tongue over her top lip to lick up the cream smeared on it. “Maybe a plotter. I know what’s going to happen and I’m scared I might forget.”

  “Then you’d better write it down.”

  Kate placed her mug to the side and pulled the laptop toward her. She started typing.

  The only sound was the clack, clack from the keyboard.

  Libby took another sip of the delectable drink.

  “What’s your day job?” Adrian asked.

  Startled by the change in conversation, Libby took a second to catch up. “I do temp work, mainly in administration roles.”

  “Is that a bit risky?”

  It was proving so at the moment, but Libby shrugged. “There’s plenty of work around, and it gives me time to write when I need to.” She just wished it paid better.

  “I don’t think I could be stuck in an office all day.” Adrian shuddered.

  “It’s not so bad, especially when the weather’s bad,” she said. “What did you do before you became so successful?”

  “I worked for my brother, Kate’s dad, as a laborer with his construction company. We built houses.”

  “They were the best houses, weren’t they, Uncle Ade?” Kate looked up from the laptop.