It was nearly nine at night when Bill's cell phone rang.
Matty watched him in interest, as he spoke quietly to the caller on the other end.
"Who was that?" Matty wondered, as Bill shut the cell off.
"Simon Hirst."
"What does he want?"
"He wants to see me at his room."
Matty stood up, finishing her beer.
"What about?"
"He says he has some news for me."
Matty took Bill's hand as she walked by him, headed for the front door.
"Let's go see what the mainlander wants."
Simon Hirst answered the motel room door.
"Please come in, Mr. Williams and Miss Dove."
Gail was sitting at the small desk in the room. She never spoke as the two walked in. Simon closed the door behind them and motioned for them to sit at the small dining table in the suite.
"Would you like a drink? I have a fine scotch here."
Matty and Bill both nodded.
"Please sit."
Simon passed their drinks to them and sat at the table with them.
After a dew moments of awkward silence Bill spoke.
"So, Mr. Hirst? What was it that you wanted to talk to us about?"
Simon sipped his drink and then stared at Bill for a moment.
"I have just spent hours on the phone with my lawyers and with officials of the Newfoundland government."
"And?"
"It seems that we have a bit of a quandary here."
Matty was shaking her head.
"I don't think we do, Mr. Hirst."
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...