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This explained why Avon wasn’t responding to my texts. She didn’t want to deliver the bad news, so she’d just left.
“No,” I said curtly. “Thanks.”
I walked out the door, freshly fallen snow crunching under my boots until I stopped on the sidewalk. Though I wanted to put my fist through a wall and scream fuck as loud as possible, that wouldn’t help anything.
Instead, I took out my phone and dialed my sister.
“Hey! I heard you guys got them,” she said. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
She spoke to someone else. “Hey, take it easy on the salt, Jerry. You’re supposed to measure it.”
She was busy, of course, probably preparing lunch for guests at The Sleepy Moose. But she was the only one who could help me with what I needed.
“Hey, you know your friend Cheryl, the one who owns that private plane?” I said.
“Yeah, why?”
Tom and Cheryl Baker, and Keller Strauss, were the only people in the Beard who kept small private planes at the airport. Others landed and took back off from there, but only those two planes were stored at the airport when not in use.
“I need a ride to a major airport as soon as possible,” I said. “Minneapolis would be great.”
“Does this have anything to do with the arrests? You guys did get them, right?”
“Yeah, we did. This is about Avon.”
“Ah, say no more. I’ll call Cheryl right now. I know they’re at their place on the lake this week, so the plane should be there.”
“Thanks, Shea.”
“No problem.”
I ended the call and walked into City Hall, only staying long enough for brief hellos before I grabbed the keys to my vehicle. I was going home for a quick shower and then heading straight to the airport.
This wasn’t the end for me and Avon. I’d waited too long to find someone who made me feel the way she did. I was going to chase her all the way to San Diego.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Avon
“Are you sure about this?” Blaire asked me for at least the tenth time in the past hour. “I mean…I like beards and all, if they’re not long and pubic looking, but”
“It’s not just because all the men have beards,” I said, irritated. “It’s because of Grady. And Bess. And the Chronicle. You should come visit sometime; it’s the coolest little town.”
“Is there a Starbucks?”
“No.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t get it. There are hot guys all over, and you can be a newspaper reporter here if you want.”
“Blaire, I’m moving to Sven’s Beard. I’m just here to pack up some things, sell my furniture, and end my lease.”
“What about your car?”
She was right about that. I hadn’t considered what to do with my car yet since I wasn’t planning on driving it back to Sven’s Beard. My Toyota Corolla wasn’t built for three feet of snow.
“I’m selling that, too.”
“Okay, this is insane,” she said. “But if your mind is made up, I’ll buy your couch. How much do you want for it?”
“Um…I don’t know. I paid fifteen hundred, but it’s got a scratch on one leg, so…five hundred?”
“Done.” She typed into her phone. “I’ll Venmo you now. And I’ll take those leggings, too.”
I shook my head as I shoved several pairs of leggings into a bag. “These aren’t for sale.”
She scoffed. “Don’t you need, like, puffy snow pants in that weather?”
“It’s not winter year round. You can swim in the lakes during the summer.”
“Well, shit. I was going to ask for all your swimsuits and sandals next.”
I’d considered Blaire a good friend in the years I’d known her, but I realized now she just wasn’t that deep. She cared most about keeping up with salon appointments and her weekend plans. Maybe someday she’d want more. Maybe not. Either way, I wished her well.
“Can you see my roots?” she asked, approaching me and bending to give me a good view of her scalp. “You’re the only one who ever tells me the truth.”
She had her hair colored from medium blond to light blond, and her roots never had more than two weeks to grow out, but she still obsessed over it.
“Nope,” I said. “Can I give you some cash to go pick up some moving boxes for me?”
“Sure. I was going to make a coffee run anyway. You still like caramel lattes?”
I would miss my caramel lattes. I hadn’t found anything in the Beard that compared. Might as well enjoy one last latte while I could.
“Yes, thanks.”
I took out my wallet and she waved me off. “I’ve got it. You gave me a steal on that couch.”
I went back to sorting clothes into piles on my bed, and she headed for the front door, returning less than a minute later.
“Hey, I found someone at the front door,” she said, her eyes wide. I turned to see what she was talking about and my eyes widened, too.
