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)
He waved a hand. “Nah, you’ll need it for your trip home. It’s the least I can do for Pete’s niece, Avon. He did our little town such a great service with the Chronicle.”
I slid into the coat and followed him to the front door of his office, where he nodded at the woman sitting behind the front desk.
“Marian, I’m off to the flower shop,” he said.
“Okay, boss.” Her accent made it sound like ookay. “We’ll hold the fort down.”
Max held the door open for me and then pointed to the nearby intersection where the statue of Sven stood in front of City Hall. There was a building at each of the four corners, and one of them was a red brick two-story with a retro neon red sign that read “Sven’s Beard Chronicle” above the entrance.
“There it is,” he said. “I’ll be in touch, and you can call my office if there’s anything you need.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks, and thanks again for the coat.”
I waved and set off in the direction of the building, buttoning the coat to block out the biting cold wind. It was surreal, walking toward a business I owned, even if I wasn’t going to own it for long.
Leadership wasn’t my strength. I liked to stay focused on my own work and nothing else. In the four years I’d worked in pharmaceutical sales, I’d set sales records and managed to bank almost eighty thousand dollars. I was close to my goal of having enough money to quit my job and travel. Fiji, Iceland, and the rest of Europe were at the top of my list. And if I got enough money from the sale of the Chronicle, I could add my dream destination—the Amazon rainforest.
I’d learned from losing my parents that tomorrow is never guaranteed. I was only twenty-nine, still young enough to have the adventures I dreamed of.
The doors and windows of the building were mirrored, so I only saw my own reflection as I approached the double doors that led inside. Though I didn’t know what I was expecting when I opened the doors, the sight that greeted me made my jaw drop.
The walls were covered in dark paneling and bore mounted heads of deer, elk, and antelope, as well as huge glassy-eyed fish on wood plaques. The open floor plan allowed for several large wooden desks to create a spacious work area and there was a black-and-white-checkered tile floor. A woman with a gray helmet of curls was stubbing a cigarette out in an ashtray as she surveyed me.
I’d worked at the newspaper in college at UCLA, and it had been nothing like this. This place looked more like a poker hall than a business.
“It’s about time you got here,” the woman said with a glare. “We go to press on Monday, you know.”
I lowered my brows, sure she was mistaking me for someone else. “I’m Avon Douglas, the new owner here.”
“Oh, I know who you are. You’re the spitting image of your mom. Figured Pete would leave you the paper. Hang up your coat and I’ll show you your office.”
“I’m not…I won’t be needing an office.”
She snort-laughed and stood. “Well, the paychecks need to be signed and we need the news content for next week’s paper. Pick a desk and get to work.”
A man with a dark, bushy mustache walked into the room. “There she is! Avon, I’m Sam.” He walked over and shook my hand, his grip tight. “I’m your sports editor. Looking forward to working with you. And hey, do you want me to take Shawn to the playoff game tomorrow to shoot photos, or am I taking them myself?”
I looked between him and the woman I assumed was Bess. “I have no idea how to run a newspaper.”
Sam chuckled. “Well, we’re here to help.”
“I only stopped by to introduce myself,” I said. “I’m not staying.”
Bess scowled. “Look, missy, this ain’t a job you can work a few hours a week at. I owe Ron over at Ron’s Auto a hundred and fifty bucks for fixing my car and I need my paycheck so I can get my car back. You need to march into that office over there and get moving.”
I supposed she had a point. I didn’t want the employees here going without their paychecks. So I cleared my throat and tried to look boss-ish, even though Bess had already made it clear who the real boss was around here.
“This office?” I asked, pointing to a doorway as I walked toward it.
“That’s right. The computer password is c-r-a-p-p-i-e278.”
“Crappy?” I grinned. “Come on. It can’t be that bad working here.”
“It’s a fish,” Bess said, lighting up another cigarette.
“Right. I’ll just…” I pointed at the door and then opened it.
So far, my windfall felt more like a windfail.
CHAPTER TWO