by London James
“Don't you worry about that,” Julie says with a comforting pat on my leg. She gets up and walks over to the door to press her mouth close to the hinge. “Sheriff!” she shouts. “Sheriff!”
A few moments later, the sheriff opens the door.
“Good Lord, woman. I was in there trying to eat a snack,” he says.
“This has been fun, Sheriff, but I'm just about ready.”
“Alright. I'll go ahead and give him a call.”
“Tell him Avery, too,” she says.
He makes a somewhat jaded sound of agreement and heads back into the front of the station.
“Avery, too, what?” I ask. “Who is he calling?”
“Somebody who does know a thing or two about lawyers and bail,” she says with a smile. She leans back and kicks her legs up onto the bench, folding her ankles and resting her head on her folded hands against the wall.
“How many times have you been in here, Julie?” I ask.
Less than an hour later, I'm standing on the veranda of Hometown Bed And Breakfast again. Just as he promised, Miles has arranged for all my belongings from the palace to be delivered there. Shawn and Leo must not have noticed yet, because they're still sitting on the veranda waiting to be brought inside. I hug Julie tightly.
“Thank you so much,” I say. “And tell Andrew I say thank you a thousand times.”
“You're very welcome,” she says. “We're glad to have you home in Vidalia Isle, regardless of circumstances. Don't you let anything take you down. Not anything.”
She leaves, and I step inside the bed-and-breakfast and am immediately almost brought to my knees by the emotions of the familiar smell and space. Tears threaten to come back, but I fight them out of the way as Shawn and Leo come around the corner. Their eyes brighten when they see me.
“Avery!” Shawn says happily. “It's amazing to see you. Are you alright?”
“Well, I just got out of jail,” I tell him.
“Oh, no, what happened?” Leo asks.
“It's fine,” I say. “I'm fine. Everything's fine. I decided I had enough and went to turn myself in. I have to go back in for some questioning and all that legal mess, but for right now I'm home.”
“Where is Owen?” Shawn asks. “Didn't he bail you out?”
“No,” I tell them. “Andrew did. Julie was in there with me for protesting.”
“Owen has been calling up here for the last few hours,” Leo says. “He's really worried about you. I just figured he'd found you and got you out.”
“No,” I say. “And if he calls again, just tell him I don't want to talk to him. I'm going to get my stuff off the front porch and go up to my room.” I cringe and drop my head. “The room you two are staying in.”
“Don't worry about it,” Shawn says. “The housekeeper just came today, and the bed is freshly made. We'll go back to our houses.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says.
“I can't thank you enough for what you did for me,” I tell them. “And if you have any patience left, I might ask you to help out for a few more days.”
“Absolutely,” Leo says. “We'll help out as much as you need.”
“I don't want to interfere in your life any more than I already have. It just might take me a little bit to get back into the swing of things.”
“You aren't interfering,” Leo reassures me. “We have loved being here, and Mr. Pellegrino is dealing just fine without me. You have us for as long as you need.”
I nod thankfully and walk back onto the veranda to gather my bags. The men come and help me, making the trip up the stairs easier on my drained body. As soon as they close the door behind them, I kick off my shoes and drop down onto the bed. Almost instantly, the calls begin. Every time I look at the screen, it's Owen. And each time, I press the ignore button. Finally, I answer the tenth call.
“I thought I was making myself clear,” I start, but the voice coming through the line stops me.
“Avery?” A woman asks. Her voice sounds familiar, but I'm struggling to place it.
“Yes? Sorry. Who is this?”
“It's Hannah,” she says. “From the Willow Springs Inn?”
“Oh,” I say, surprised to hear from her. “Yes, of course. Hi, Hannah. How are you?”
“I've been meaning to call you since you checked out, but I haven't been able to build up the nerve.”
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
“No, nothing's wrong. I just feel so silly. That's not true. I feel stupid. I can't believe I didn't know who that man was.”
“You mean Mr. Mercer? The blogger?”
“I knew him as Mr. Westcott, but, yes. You must think I am so flighty for not figuring out who he was when he was here, or at least piecing it together when that horrid review came out.”
“Not at all,” I tell her. “You are by far, not the only person who he fooled. I think I just got lucky figuring it out. By the way, how did you know I figured it out?”
“Oh,” she says, her voice trembling now. “I heard about his death, and your name sounded so familiar. Then I saw your picture on the news and it just really struck me.”
“I hope you don't think...”
“Of course not,” she says. “The article I read said you're doing a little bit of investigating.”
“How did it actually phrase it?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “That you were sticking your nose in official police business.”
“That's pretty accurate.”
“They came by here to question me. It was one of the scariest experiences of my life. I had no idea what to say. It sounds so funny to admit it, but just sitting down with those men in their uniforms completely made my mind go blank. No matter what the question was, I felt like I was being dishonest. They asked me my name, and I clammed up. Has something like that ever happened to you?”
“Not yet, but since I just came from being bailed out of jail for obstruction of justice, I have a feeling it's going to be happening sometime soon.”
Hannah gasps. “I can't believe they brought you in. Through everything I read and heard, all you have been doing is trying to get to the bottom of this mess. Seems to me they should be thanking you for helping them do their job.”
“That's how I see it,” I say. “Unfortunately for them, half of their obstruction case is going to be pretty difficult to try. They’re blaming me for an apple going missing, but they have no idea where it went.”
“An apple? The one that he was holding when he died? I thought the news was saying it was thrown away when they thought he died of a heart attack.”
“It was. Not that apple. Apparently two apples, a peanut one and a sprinkle one, were planted at my caramel apple table at the festival. One was given to Mr. Mercer, but the other one, and the note supposedly with it disappeared. Nobody has any idea where it went or who might have taken it. The police are accusing me, but since they have no proof it actually even existed, that’s going to be hard for them to get to stick. Unfortunately for the case, that also means a big piece of the puzzle is missing.”
“Honestly, it was probably a misunderstanding somewhere along the line. Either that or someone just threw it away because white sprinkles are so much better for spring than fall.”
She laughs, and it seems like she’s feeling stronger after the conversation, like just talking to me made her feel less alone in the situation.
“That’s true,” I say.
“Well,” she says, “I'm sorry to have bothered you. I just wanted to reach out to you since we're part of an exclusive club now. If you ever want to talk, please don't hesitate to call me.”
“Thank you, Hannah. The same goes for you.”
I hang up, feeling a sense of relief. Knowing GPS's identity is out in the open now means all of us who were affected by him can connect. Reaching out to each other and touching base about just how outrageous his evaluations of each of us and our businesses were could be the validat
ion we need to move on.
Chapter Thirty-One
Owen
I can't get in touch with Avery for almost two days, and when I finally do, it's only because I watch outside Hometown Bed And Breakfast until I'm sure Shawn and Leo aren't there. She rolls her eyes the instant I rush into the building. It's not the joyful welcome I was hoping for, but it didn't involve throwing anything or running out of the room, so I'm going to take it as a step in the right direction.
“Avery, I need to talk to you.”
“I thought I made it clear I have nothing to say to you,” she says.
“That isn't true, and you know it. I can see it in your eyes. You have plenty to say to me.”
She heads for the kitchen, and I follow her. “I thought I told you guests aren’t allowed in the kitchen,” she says.
“I'm not a guest,” I tell her. “You're getting ready to make cinnamon rolls, aren't you?”
“Maybe,” she says.
“You are. It's that time of day, and every afternoon while we were in the summer palace, you said your fingers were itching to make dough, but you didn't have all the ingredients you needed. Angela could have gotten them for you, but you insisted Vidalia Isle has the best cinnamon.”
“And it does,” she insists.
“Cinnamon doesn't grow in Vidalia Isle.” It feels good to be teasing each other, but she cuts it off quickly.
“What's your point, Owen?” she asks sharply.
“That I know you and you know me. Deep in your heart, you know what Isabel told you isn't true.”
“That's just the thing. I don't know that. We come from different worlds. I'm not saying that because that's something that can't be overcome, or it automatically means we couldn't be together. I'm only saying it because it means I don't really understand what happens in your world. Your laws and customs and traditions are all complete mysteries to me. She was absolutely confident in what she was saying, and I don’t know if I should believe her.”
“Believe me instead.”
“I don't have it left in me to deal with this right now,” she says. “I'm just not ready to try to figure something else out. I've been trying to get back into the rhythm of life, but it's really hard when half the village thinks I'm a murderer and the other half is twisting this whole thing into this huge sensationalized mess of drama.”
“Please,” I say. “I am so sorry she showed up and said those things to you. It's completely out of line, and she had no right to do it. I am beyond sorry she hurt you and made you question anything. Please just give me the opportunity to explain the truth.”
“Go ahead,” she finally says quietly. She doesn't look at me, keeping her head down as she mixes the ingredients for the cinnamon roll dough in her big mixing bowl. That's fine with me. As long as she hears the words I need to say to her, she can do anything she wants.
“Yes, my family does have to follow certain laws and regulations in my country. One of those is the age of marriage for a royal who is in the direct line to the throne. It's a law I've always hated and have spoken out against since the time I was old enough to argue. I've never thought it was fair that they could try to control my life like that. So, I've always resisted it. I've never gotten into serious relationships or really spent any time with any woman of note.
“My relationships have been limited to one or two dates, tops. But my parents are done dealing with it. Mostly my mother. Following the laws and the traditions is extremely important to her, and she knows according to those, I have to be married within the next year in order to be able to take the throne. She decided two years ago, since I haven't been making any progress on finding the right wife, that she would do it for me.”
“So, she talked to Isabel's parents,” she says.
“That's exactly what she did. She went behind my back and started talking with them and convincing them that betrothing Isabel to me would be ideal for the countries. When it was our time to sit on the thrones, we would rule over both nations together. Since then, she's been trying to convince me that it's a good idea. Needless to say, I've pushed back against it.”
“Apparently not hard enough,” Avery says. “Because Isabel very obviously still considers the two of you engaged.”
“We were never engaged. Arrangements were made between our parents, but it had nothing to do with me. Isabel is spoiled and indulged and has never heard the word ‘no.’ I don't even know if it occurs to her that that word exists for somebody like her. She honestly believes if she just continues going along this way, saying we are engaged and planning the wedding, I'll just go along with it because I have to. It isn't happening. It never was going to happen. I am so sorry. That's all I can say.”
“Thank you for explaining it to me,” she says. “But it doesn't really change anything.”
“It doesn't?” I ask. “Didn't you hear what I said?”
“I did,” Avery says. “And I accept your explanation and appreciate you telling me. But I feel like whatever we had between us is broken. However you feel about the situation or your relationship with Isabelle, you should have told me. That's a part of your life and an expectation you would have to deal with, and if you wanted me as a part of your life too, that means I'd have to deal with it right alongside you. But you didn't tell me. Instead, you kept it from me and let me be embarrassed like this.”
“Avery, I'm sorry you're embarrassed. I am so furious at Isabel for doing that to you.”
“It's not just that she basically called me your fling before the ring. Everything she said with the exception of the two of you being engaged is true. We've never really fit into each other's lives, and it would just cause more pain and difficulty if we kept trying to keep up with whatever it is that was going on between us.”
“Whatever it is that was going on between us?” I asked. “Is that really all it means to you?”
Avery shrugs. “I don't know what else to call it, and I don't trust myself to call it anything else. This has to end, Owen. I've already turned myself in to the police, and I’m trying to let them sort this out. Trying to deal with all of this has made me tired and sick, and I need to focus on taking care of myself right now. I just need you to go be who you are and live the life you're supposed to.”
“You can't just push me away, Avery,” I tell her. “I'm not going anywhere. You can want me to back off and let you be, but I'm not leaving. I promised to help you and to protect you, and that's what I'm going to do, even if it's from a distance for now.”
She nods, and I walk out of the kitchen, reluctantly leaving Hometown Bed And Breakfast, but not my commitment to Avery.
For the next two weeks, I join the daily life of Vidalia Isle. I've had to bounce between a few different places to deal with the still-exceptional occupancy rates, but I don't care. Being here means I can keep my eye on Avery and make sure she stays safe. It's been a few days since I've seen her. After turning over everything she knew to the police, she's been laying low and just trying to sink back into life.
I know it has to be driving her insane. That's why I'm surprised when I see her standing on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, smiling as she talks to two men and a familiar-looking woman. Figuring she can't completely reject me in front of them, I cross the street toward her. The woman sees me first, and her smile wanes as she nods, letting Avery know I'm coming.
Avery visibly stiffens and turns her back but doesn't walk away.
"Hi, Avery," I say when I get to her.
"Owen," she says. "You remember Hannah, from Willow Springs. This is Rick, he owns a bed-and-breakfast in Wilmington, and this is Stacey. His place is in Kentucky."
"A bit away from home, aren't you?" I ask.
"Says the man squatting in a foreign country," she mutters under her breath.
"We've come to support Avery," Hannah says. "We know what it's like to lock horns with the Traveler’s True GPS, and each one of us has once or twice entertained the idea of taking him out of his misery." She laughs
, then touches Avery's arm.
"Not that Avery did anything wrong. We just want to be here to show our support and let the police see that there are others who were affected by him and understand what she felt. Besides, when she mentioned the police had finally cleared his room and there was space for me, I couldn't turn down an invitation to come see her beloved Vidalia Isle. These two are checking out the competition elsewhere," she says as she nudges Rick.
"It really means a lot to me," Avery says. "I'm glad you're here."
"At least nowhere around here seems to share the dearly departed's view on alcohol," Stacey says. "I sat by the fireplace last night reading while I sipped bourbon, and it was glorious. He acted like my inn was Sodom and Gomorrah because of the wet bar in the lounge."
They laugh. I figure it's an innkeeper’s joke and don’t bother trying to find it funny.
"Well, I know you're busy today," Hannah says. "I'm glad we were able to meet for coffee, and I'll see you for dinner, right?"
"Absolutely," Avery says.
"Great." Hannah hugs her and starts down the sidewalk. "We're off to shop for quilts. Oh! I can't believe I forgot to ask. How did the doctor go this morning?"
Color creeps up the back of Avery's neck.
"It went fine," she says. "Everything's good."
Hannah smiles. "Good. See you later."
She waves and the three disappear into the midday crowd moving through the village.
"The doctor?" I ask. "Why did you have to go to the doctor?"
"It was just a check-up," she tells me. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with a prospective client I need to get to."
She tries to walk around me, but before she can get all the way on the other side, she stops, her eyes widening an instant before her jaw stiffens and her nostrils flare.
"What is she doing here?" she asks, her voice low in her throat.
I turn around and see Isabel coming toward us. The smug look on her face seems related to the folded paper she's using like a fan.