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I ignored my urge to lob a comment back at her so our last interaction would be civil.
“Night, Avon. Good luck with everything.”
“Good night.”
I waited until she’d locked up from the inside to walk back to my truck. Two more nights. Then the annoying pounding in my chest would go away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Avon
“I’m afraid I don’t have good news for you,” Max Morrison said from behind his desk on Monday morning.
“All the offers are low?” I sighed. “I thought that might be the case.”
My initial excitement over an inheritance had been dampened by my time here. I was over sleeping on Pete’s scratchy, lumpy couch, pretending I knew anything about running a business, and I hated the constant cold.
Max didn’t realize how low my expectations were now. Anything I got for the sale of the Chronicle was more than I had a week ago. I planned to bank every penny of it to continue saving for travel. And tonight, I’d be sleeping with an unfrozen nose, which I was looking forward to more than the money.
He knitted his brows together. “Well, unfortunately, Avon, there are no offers. Not even low ones.”
I slumped back in my chair, stunned. No offers? Not a single one? Not even a lowball I don’t mean to insult you one?
“I don’t understand. Not even for just the building? Someone could make it into another business. How much did you ask for it?”
Max slid off his glasses and set them on his desk. “I solicited offers through a nationwide newspaper association. I didn’t put a price on it; I said all reasonable offers would be considered.”
My chest deflated with a deep exhale, the reality of the situation setting in. Not only was I getting zero dollars and zero cents for my “inheritance,” I was still responsible for the newspaper’s employees and the building.
“This can’t be happening,” I said under my breath.
“It’s still very early, Avon. I’m not giving up.”
“This inheritance is going to cost me money, isn’t it?” I asked, my stomach churning nervously.
His gaze was sympathetic. “Not necessarily. I did get some feedback from the association. They said the press is an asset, but the circulation is much lower than it should be. If you can raise your circulation, I think we can get an offer.”
“I have no idea how to do that, though.”
A few moments of silence passed and then I asked, “Can I just sell the building? Close the newspaper and take whatever someone will give me for the building?”
Max shook his head. “You’d have to bring the building up to current building codes, and they’re strict here in the Beard. It’s the reason I make do in this tiny office instead of moving. I’d have to add sprinklers to sell this one. And in a building the size of the Chronicle, that would cost you significantly more than you’d get for the building.”
I closed my eyes, wishing my parents were still around to give me advice. My only job experience was in pharmaceutical sales; I didn’t have a clue how to run a newspaper, let alone grow one.
“Don’t give up hope,” Max said. “It’s only been a few days. Offers could still come in, and in the meantime, you can hire some help to keep things running in your absence. I’ll certainly keep an eye on anything you need me to.”
It sounded like a solid idea, but it wouldn’t work.
“There was barely enough money in the account to cover payroll when I wrote out the checks,” I said. “I can’t afford to hire anyone, and Bess can’t take on any more work.”
“Can you stay here longer? Try to get the circulation numbers up while I work on drumming up a buyer?”
I said nothing, but based on Max’s laugh, my response must have been written all over my face.
“You must feel like a fish out of water here,” he said. “But…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for my advice.”
“No, it’s okay. What were you going to say?”
“Your parents grew up here. This place was part of them, so it’s part of you.”
My appendix was part of me, too, but it didn’t serve any purpose and I’d be just fine without it. No point in mentioning that, though. I sat in silence for a bit, thinking about my options, though truthfully, there was only one.
Begrudgingly, I met Max’s gaze across his desk. “I have almost eight weeks of vacation time from work. I guess I’ll be using it.”
Max gave a nod of approval. “I think it’s wise to stay here until we find a buyer if you can.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Not only was there no apparent buyer for the paper, but I could easily burn through all my vacation time keeping it running.
A month. I’d give it one month. Then I’d reevaluate my options.
