The summer festival was one of the most popular events of the year and brought in people from all the surrounding villages as well as tourists in search of some seaside fun. All the shops along the high street did their best to make a splash and seduce potential customers. For her part, Eleanor liked to lay on special events, including readings and book signings.
“You’re looking serious, boss.”
“I’m not serious, Erika, I’m furious.” It was late morning and Eleanor was in the bookshop with her assistant manager. After six years, Erika was still Eleanor’s only full-time employee and they managed pretty well together with occasional help from her mother Connie and son Joe. “I thought we’d finalised all our events for the festival week.”
“So did I – what’s happened?”
Eleanor spun the shop diary around for her colleague to see. “I opened my emails to discover that the author I had lined up as our star turn has pulled out leaving me well and truly in the custard.” She closed the diary with a bang.
“Oh dear, that is bad timing.” Erika grimaced. “I suppose there’s always Lavinia Threlfall if we get desperate.”
“True – her Gothic romances might not be to everyone’s taste, but she certainly has plenty of devoted fans.”
“Who – as we know – are guaranteed to turn up and buy books, which is brilliant, although the shop does smell of patchouli for days afterwards.”
“Her readers are a loyal and interesting bunch, but I feel we’ve ‘done’ Lavinia. Do you remember the book launch a couple of years ago when we turned off the lights and draped the place in velvet?” Eleanor laughed. “The shop looked like something between a souk and a bordello.”
“That’s not an evening I’ll forget in a hurry. It was one of our most lucrative events ever.” Erika had been Eleanor’s good friend and right-hand woman for five years and shared the responsibility for entering the shop’s figures into their accounting system.
“It was also the night young Georgie came into our lives or Joe’s, to be more precise.”
“They make a sweet couple.”
“They do. My son is a very lucky chap to have such a sparky young woman take him on. I’m sure a lot of girls would find his chilled-out, ‘surfer dude’ approach to life annoying, but Georgie loves him. I guess being an Aussie she understands Joe’s obsession with throwing himself into the sea at every opportunity. It’s a shame Georgie is hard at work in London and Joe’s still dossing in my spare room.” Eleanor frowned. Although Joe was now in his late twenties, he showed no sign of wanting to fly the nest. In that, he was quite different from his twin Phoebe, who was working near her father’s new home in Canada. “Anyway, back to the matter in hand – this gap in the schedule. I need to find an author with a high profile locally, but whose books we can sell to both men and women – which definitely rules out Lavinia.”
“Yes, there aren’t many men who’ll confess to enjoying her passionate tales about lords of the manor and buxom wenches with an unhealthy interest in fresh blood.”
“No, sexy vampires are not easy to sell to our male customers. They are more likely to go for biography or history.”
Erika chewed her pen, thoughtfully. “What about inviting the local history chap to talk about the lighthouse? Or the old farmer who was in the Secret Service? They always guarantee a healthy audience.”
“They’re both great, but neither of them has a new book out and everybody in Combemouth has already bought their stuff or heard their talks.” Eleanor drummed her fingers on the diary and sighed.
“Never mind,” said Erika, trying to sound encouraging. “The festival isn’t for two months yet – there’s plenty of time to come up with a plan.”
“Two months is no time at all.” Eleanor scanned the wall calendar anxiously. “I need a whole lot of luck if I’m going to find someone thrilling at such short notice. It would be good to come up with whizzy ideas for more window displays, as well.”
“You mean after you’ve done the red and black ones?”
“I think you’ll agree the blue window is one of my best ever.” Eleanor smiled. “I’ll have a chat with Dan later. He often has good suggestions.”
“Aren’t you house-hunting again this lunchtime?”
“Drat. Yes, I’d forgotten. Thanks for reminding me.”
“You’re really not enjoying it, are you?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I like a bit of property porn as much as the next woman and it’s fascinating poking around other people’s homes and gardens. We’ve seen some lovely places – I can’t imagine living in any of them, that’s the problem.” Eleanor looked at the clock. “Lordy, I’d better go or I’ll be late. I’m sorry to duck out early, Erika – could you shut up the shop tonight?”
“Sure, no problem. Let’s hope you find somewhere that’s right for you both soon.”
Eleanor chewed her lip. “I’m sure my long-suffering husband hopes so too.”