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The Matilda siblings were brother and sister. Bart was the oldest, and his wife had recently passed away, so he’d moved in with his sister, June, and her husband, Jack, who was usually in his shed working on his cars.
Bart always wore his silky shorts uncomfortably tight and high on the leg. They made a person wish he wouldn’t because it was like a train wreck. You couldn’t unsee it or the long white legs and other things they exposed.
The Matildas were good people though. Avid square dancers, they’d also tutored schoolkids in English and music. They’d taken on the Dukes and got them through.
“Hello, Dukes,” Bart said. “I had a music lesson with Ally last night. That girl will be a rock star one day, you mark my words.”
“I’m hoping she’s moved on from the recorder,” Ryder said, “because no rock band I know has anyone playing those.”
“Not yet, but soon,” Bart said.
“Why are you in here?” Nancy demanded. “Nobody comes to Limpets unless it’s to lose money or get food poisoning.”
Sawyer shot Mr. Limpet a look, but he was nodding.
“We want to buy the bakery,” Sawyer said. It never hurt to get some influence from the town’s elders, and Limpets had been a source of discussion and frustration for years around Lyntacky.
“Sell it to them, Larry,” June said.
“Now,” Nancy added.
“You can then go fishing all day,” Bart said. “I still have the boat for sale.”
Larry Limpet was a stubborn old goat and always had been, but maybe he was ready to move on.
Town meetings often centered around Limpets bakery and what to do about the place. Larry Limpet always attended and usually sat in the back row with both middle fingers raised. If Sawyer was the town grump, Limpet was the town asshole.
“I don’t take orders from any of you,” Larry said.
“My brothers have got it now,” Zoe said to the four elderly joggers who were now having a glaring match with the bakery’s owner. “You all get on with your run, and I’ll let you know how things progress.” She opened the door and waved them out.
“So, you want to sell or not?” Ryder asked. Larry just stared at him, playing hardball. Ryder named a sum that was good enough to still be over what it was worth but less than the amount originally stated.
Sawyer stayed silent now, as Ryder had his head out of the clouds and could think with his business brain.
“Nope.” Mr. Limpet named a sum.
They went back and forth until Zoe stepped in.
“You take that last offer from my brother, and we’ll throw in a vacation at a lodge in Ryker Falls for four nights, meals included.”
The Dukes looked at Mr. Limpet, who hemmed and hawed.
“Do it, you old coot!” a voice from out the back called. “We can be on the water in that boat you want this time next week doing the same thing but with better scenery!”
“Pipe down, Percy!”
“He’s right, don’t be a fool, Larry. Not sure why the Dukes want it or why anyone would, but you’re not getting another offer in the next ten years! Plus, we don’t have to eat in here.”
“You shut yours too, Leonard!” Mr. Limpet yelled back.
“Onetime offer,” Sawyer said. “We take ownership at the end of month, which gives you two weeks. Can’t be much in here to move, and we’ll help.”
“Before we sign anything,” Zoe said. “Maybe you should look around, Rye?”
“We know the place because we broke in here heaps when we were kids,” Sawyer said. “But sure.”
That had a smile creasing Mr. Limpet’s face. He waved a hand around. “Look all you want. I have a game to finish.”
