"Work something out?" I asked, prying my hand out of his grasp and feeling my stomach twist. I was out of money, and the last thing I wanted to do was make a back-room deal with a councilman. Was that what he was suggesting?
I turned to Scooter, who was watching the exchange between us with a smug smile. "Even if part of the house does still belong to Agatha Satterthwaite—which I don't believe—what do you have to do with it?"
"She was planning to sell the property to my company," he said. "For fair market value. Which, considering this is waterfront property, is likely considerably more than what Loretta charged you."
I glanced at the line of customers, many of whom had their ears perked up as they waited to pay. Loretta had really wanted me to have the store, and I hadn't researched the number we agreed on, but I knew it was low. I suddenly felt very tired, and a little bit sick. Had I just spent my life savings on a bum deal?
"Let's talk about this later," I said. "I've got a line of customers."
"Here's my card," the councilman said, producing one from his back pocket. I glanced at it briefly and shoved it next to the register.
"Thanks," I said. "I'll be in touch."
Cal gave Scooter the briefest of nods as he sauntered off, glad-handing anyone who came within range. I couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem very popular; a few people seemed to move intentionally out of his way.
Scooter was still standing in front of me, and I turned to him, ready to ring up his purchase; there was a long line, after all. "I'll ring that up," I offered.
"On second thought, I've changed my mind about the books." He tossed them down on the desk in front of me. "I have a better first edition at home," he said, pointing to a dinged corner that I would swear hadn't been there five minutes ago. "Good luck," he added, and waltzed out of the store, leaving me cold as ice and feeling like this time, he had just walloped me in the nose.
"Is everything okay?" asked the next customer, the woman in the pink dress, as I gathered the two books and tucked them behind the counter. One of them was now damaged, and the other—signed to Scooter, presumably—was now unsellable.
I shook myself and put on a smile. "Fine," I lied as she handed me the books.
"Cal and Scooter are both a piece of work," she said, lowering her sunglasses to watch him leave. "I can't believe Cal won the election. In fact, I can't believe nobody's killed him in self-defense yet."
"Thanks for being supportive," I said as I rang her up. I noticed the last name on her card was the same as the councilman's. "Gretchen Parker," I said, reading her credit card. "Are you two related?" I asked.
"Ex-wife," she said.
"Ah. I understand," I told her.
She glanced toward Ted and grinned at me. "I know you do. We women have to stick together, don't we? See you around... and don't let the jerks get you down," she said, tucking the book into her oversized purse and heading for the door before I could answer.
The next few customers stared at me with curiosity and complimented me on the bookstore, but didn't mention my ex-husband, thankfully. Until I got to the regal woman who had been seated next to Gretchen Parker.
"You'll want to watch out for Cal Parker," she advised me in a husky voice, looking toward the front door, through which the freshly minted selectman had exited a few minutes earlier. "He's a snake."
"I gathered," I said. "How is he involved with Scooter Dempsey?"
"They're in business together, at least unofficially," she said. "Cal bought the spot on the council and is using Snug Harbor to line his pockets. He beat me by two votes at the last election. I'm going after my seat again next time, but we'll have to do what we can to protect the town in the meantime."
"I'm so sorry," I said. "He seems like..."
"A jerk?" she asked as I rang up her sale.
"Exactly," I said.
"Welcome to Snug Harbor, by the way," she told me. "I'm Meryl Ferguson, and I'm glad you took over the store. Loretta told me she was delighted you were going to carry on the tradition; we were long-time friends. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."
"Thanks," I said, warmed by the greeting. "It's good to meet you."
"Thanks for the book," she said as I handed her back Fast Money. "I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of you."
"I hope so," I said with honesty; I'd only just met Meryl, but I liked her. And she certainly seemed a better choice for Snug Harbor's council than the slimy Cal Parker.
"Hey," said the next person in line; a woman about my age, with a mass of dark hair around her face. "Nice presentation, particularly considering the circumstances." She leaned her
