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“Absolutely,” the mayor said. “My door is always open to you. And Chief Grady and I will talk to our city attorney about what police records we’re allowed to share with you.”
Grady crossed his arms, frowning. “I’m not sharing anything that could compromise an investigation or put my officers in danger.”
“I’m not interested in doing either of those things,” I assured him.
“Well, you don’t get to be the arbiter of what does and doesn’t get released,” he said in a gruff tone. “I do.”
It was like trying to have a conversation with a grouchy bear who kept me on my toes by suddenly using the word “arbiter” and using it correctly.
“I’m hoping we can work together to come up with something we can both live with,” I said.
He scoffed. “I just don’t know why we have to change what we’re already doing.”
He reminded me of Bess, who was so set in her ways that she was offended by the mere suggestion of change. I’d bought a different brand of coffee for the newsroom the other day and she reacted like I made her whole work environment unbearable.
I looked at my watch. “I have to go; I have another meeting. But thank you both for your time, and I wish you a happy Thanksgiving.”
It was Wednesday for me, Svensday for everyone else here. And though I respected their tradition, there was no way I could take half of today off and all of tomorrow. I had to work all day today to keep my to-do list from inducing a panic attack.
“You, too,” the mayor said. “Tell Don and Laura I said hello.”
“I will.”
Grady didn’t say a word. His feathers were ruffled, but he was going to have to get over it. We both had jobs to do, and we had to get along to do them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Avon
My Uncle Don and Aunt Laura had a fish-shaped mailbox. I turned and looked back at it as I stood on their front porch, reminding myself that people with a fish mailbox were probably nice.
Why was I so nervous about this? When Laura had called to invite me over for Thanksgiving, she’d told me how much she was looking forward to meeting me. It was going to be fine. And Harper would be there; I already knew she was sweet and friendly.
But this was my mom’s sister. A living link to her. I wanted so badly for her to like me and for her to be like my mom. I clutched the casserole dish I’d brought so hard my fingers started to burn.
“There she is!” A tall, bald man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a sweater with a huge fish on it grinned at me from beside the door he’d opened. “Come on in, Avon. I’m your Uncle Don.”
He opened his arms to hug me but stopped short when he saw the dish I was holding.
“Ope, that would be a messy hug,” he said, grinning. “Why don’t I take that and let Aunt Laura get the first hug?”
“She’s here?”
An excited female voice sounded from nearby as I slid out of my coat. As soon as Laura came around the corner, smiling, my eyes flooded with tears.
She had my mom’s bright, beautiful eyes. Though she was shorter and had longer, darker hair than my mom, just seeing eyes that reminded me of my mom’s was enough to make me break down. I was twenty-nine years old, but I still wanted my mom. I always would.
Laura wrapped me in a hug, not saying a word as I cried and she did, too. Don shooed someone as he walked away.
“Give ’em a minute, guys,” he said. “Oh, hey, did you find the electric knife?”
Don’s voice was straight-up Minnesotan. Warm, friendly, and distinctive, especially when he said the word oh. Laura’s was similar.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said when we finally pulled apart and she looked me over. “I always knew from the pictures your mom sent, but seeing you in person…” Her eyes welled with tears again as she took my hands and squeezed them. “I always wanted to know you, Avon. I want you to know that. Our parents did, too. Laura had her reasons, and we’ll find some time to sit down and talk about that later. For now, I’m just so happy you’re here.”
I nodded as Harper walked in and gave me a hug.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said. “I brought a broccoli rice and cheese casserole.”
Laura waved a hand. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, but it was sure nice of you. Come on in and meet everyone.”
Their home was a modest, well-kept ranch, the walls loaded with family photos. Laura led me down to the basement, where around a dozen people milled around a bar in a large family room, playing darts and eating appetizers.
