Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I’m not looking to make a ton of money,” I said. “Just to get out from underneath it with something would be a relief.”
“I understand. I’ll bring you any offer that comes in.”
I could possibly work remotely for part of the month, and I’d try to figure out how to increase the paper’s circulation. The one thing I couldn’t do, though, was sleep another night on the lumpy couch in Pete’s ice-cold apartment.
“Can you recommend someone who can fix the heat in the apartment?” I asked Max. “And also, someone who can move a queen-size bed out of the bedroom?”
I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to sleep in Pete’s bed. It just didn’t feel right. The cost of a new bed would be worth it if I ended up here for an entire month. And fixing the heat would be an investment in the building. My building. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be used to owning a business.
“Absolutely.”
Max put on his glasses and scrolled through the contacts in his cell phone, then gave me a couple of names and numbers.
I wouldn’t let myself panic. Max was right—a buyer could come along any day now. I’d control the things I could and stay positive. With some luck, I could still get out of this situation with some money, and now I also had Harper in my life, and soon, I’d get to meet my aunt.
“Don’t worry, Avon,” Max said. “This is all going to work out. And remember, you’ve got Sven on your side now.”
I plastered on a smile and thanked him, wondering if he meant the statue or the ghost of the town’s founder. Either way, I’d take all the help I could get.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Avon
I picked up this week’s edition of the Chronicle and studied it for what had to be the hundredth time. It was still warm from the press when I saw it for the first time, a photo I took on the front page in full color.
That was Monday, and even now, two days later, it made me smile. One day I’d look back at this picture of a little girl in a red snowsuit trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue and remember my brief foray into newspapering.
Bess inhaled sharply from her desk, which was next to the one I’d started using in the open newsroom. I didn’t like being stuck inside Pete’s office, which didn’t have any windows.
“Patty Chapman passed?” Bess said to no one in particular. “I just saw her at church.”
I never knew if I should respond to Bess’s rhetorical questions, but I didn’t want to be rude by ignoring her.
“Was she an old friend?” I asked as I scanned news headlines from my laptop.
“I wouldn’t call her a friend, but I knew her my whole life. Her husband Paul was the high school principal for many years until he left her for his secretary, who gave him genital warts.”
How was I supposed to respond to that? I decided to just let it go because I’d already heard more than enough.
Bess let out one of her I told you so hums, and I braced myself for a doozy of a comment.
“Paul couldn’t get an erection after his prostate cancer treatment, though, so then the secretary left him.”
Where did she hear such personal things about random people? Bess knew all the town gossip, but she hadn’t shared anything with me until I announced I was staying in Sven’s Beard—for now.
“I’ve got three more obits to type and then I’m out of here,” she said.
I looked at the time on my computer. It was 11:45 a.m., and Bess never left before six. If anyone deserved to cut out early, though, it was her.
“I’ve got a stack of checks to sign,” I said. “Then I think I’ll go get the police and City Hall roundups.”
“Well, only if you can get all that done in the next half hour or so.”
I was on the verge of asking her why I only had thirty minutes when Sam walked into the room wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt and a grass skirt with shorts beneath, several leis around his neck.
“No one told you guys?” he asked, knitting his brows together. “There’s a luau theme.”
Bess looked at him over the rim of her glasses, her hum dismissive this time. “I made a coconut pineapple salad. That’s my contribution to the theme.”
Sam scoffed as I realized they had to be going to a party I wasn’t invited to. Which was fine, because I had emails to catch up on. I was trying to keep up with my job remotely while here, and it was keeping me busy.
“What about you, Avon?” Sam took a yellow lei from around his neck and offered it to me. “Do you want one?”
I waved him off. “I’m buried in emails, but you guys go have fun.”