‘Thank you,’ Olivia said, flashing her sunniest smile.
Ivy might act the big grump, but Olivia knew that if she could just talk her sister into letting down her guard, she could finally persuade her to see Holly’s good side – and no one was more loyal than Ivy once she’d accepted a new friend. Olivia was determined to make that happen. Even if they did have undercover bloggers to track down, there was no reason why they couldn’t be nice to Holly at the same time.
She looked at her phone – then scowled. ‘Oh no! The reception here is terrible.’ She waved it in the air hopefully, but nothing worked. ‘Drat! I need to go outside to make the call. Do you want to come?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Ivy was already starting for the door, looking like she’d just won the lottery. ‘I would pay to get some fresh air right now!’
As they stepped outside into the sunlight, Ivy took a deep, long breath. ‘Ohhh, that’s better . . . Hey, wait a minute.’ Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed across the street. ‘Is that our grandparents?’
Olivia shaded her eyes and looked in the direction of Ivy’s pointing finger. ‘Uh-oh.’
The brightly dressed couple was definitely the Count and Countess in full-on bunny disguise . . . and they were tearing posters for Bare Throats at Sunset from shop windows and telephone poles all along the street. Their enormous Florida-style sunglasses made them look even more suspicious as they glanced shiftily up and down the street before ripping down each new poster and tucking it under their arms.
‘Um . . . should they be doing that?’ Olivia asked.
‘Those posters are covered in pictures of vampires,’ Ivy said doubtfully. ‘And the less focus on vamps in Franklin Grove, the better . . . but you’re right. I really don’t think it’s a good idea.’ She sighed. ‘Will you come with me to talk to them? I don’t think they’re in the mood to listen to me about anything right now.’
Olivia gave her twin a sympathetic smile and slipped her phone back into her shoulder bag. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’
The twins crossed the street together, and were greeted by bright smiles from both of their grandparents.
‘What excellent timing,’ the Countess said. ‘You can help us hunt down all the rest of these posters!’
‘Grandma . . .’ Ivy began. She looked uncomfortable, and Olivia knew that she was dreading another argument.
Quickly, she said, ‘Why don’t you leave those posters in place, Grandma? Actually, why don’t you come to the book-signing yourselves? It’ll give you a good clue to who’s vampire-mad in town.’
‘That’s right,’ Ivy said, brightening. ‘It could work like a trap, to draw them in. And you never know – one of the book fans might even be the blogger.’
‘My goodness,’ the Countess said. She exchanged a glance with the Count. ‘That is an excellent idea!’
Ivy glowed at the praise, and the Count beamed down at both of his granddaughters, dropping his stack of posters into a nearby bin. ‘Obviously, you girls have inherited your detective skills from my side of the family.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ The Countess raised her eyebrows. ‘Do I have to remind you that it was my family line that included Giovanni, the famous Vampire Investigator of old?’
‘Now, now, my dear.’ The Count’s eyes glinted with mischief as he baited his wife. ‘You can hardly claim a nineteenth cousin!’
Olivia stepped aside to make her phone call, but she was so drawn into watching the humorous bickering between her grandparents that she barely noticed that Holly’s phone had gone to voicemail. ‘Holly, this is . . . oops.’ A beep sounded, signalling that she’d been cut off.
Never mind, I’ll just send her a text.
She typed it in quickly, as Ivy warned their grandparents about the garlic issue in the mall.
‘If you want to stay out here to keep safe . . .’ Ivy began.
‘Absolutely not.’ The Count set his jaw proudly. ‘Now that we’ve been warned, I can take it.’
‘And I came prepared for every eventuality,’ said the Countess. She reached into the pocket of her green-and-orange golfing trousers and pulled out a tiny bottle of Chanel No. 5. ‘There!’ She spritzed a cloud around her neck and hair. ‘Safely shielded.’ She gave the Count a stern look. ‘And I warn you, dear, if you make any more claims about your great-aunt Helga, I’ll spray you with it, too!’
The Count and Countess were still bickering over ancient family history when they reached the bookstore. S. K. Reardon – a tallish man with a mop of blond hair – sat at the front table holding a gold pen ready to sign his books.
Unfortunately, Olivia could see that there was no queue of eager readers waiting to have their books signed, the way there had been at Jackson’s event. There are hardly any customers in the shop at all! Poor man, Olivia thought.
As she stepped inside, her eyes locked with Reardon’s for an awkward moment. Desperate hope flashed across his face. He lifted his pen in anticipation.
Oh no, Olivia thought. ‘Quickly!’ she mumbled to the others. ‘Pick up a book, pick up a book!’
‘What? Oh, yes. Of course.’ The Count quickly scooped up a copy of Bare Throats at Sunset from the towering – and previously untouched – pile at the front of the store. ‘Er.’ He coughed and hurried towards the table, where S. K. Reardon was watching them intensely. ‘Would you mind?’