Matty 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...
"He sold it for twenty-five grand? Fuck I paid more than that for it."
"Well, Cammy. Too bad, so sad, you're crying, I'm glad. Bye bye."
"Matty wait. This isn't about the car. This is business."
"And what business is that, Cammy?"
"I am calling on behalf of my client, Simon Hirst."
"Last I heard, Cammy, you're client is in jail."
"Actually he is out on bail, but confined to a hotel room in Deer Lake. The other six are still in custody."
"So what do you want Cammy."
"First I'd like you to stop calling me Cammy."
Matty rolled her eyes.
"Fine," she sighed.
"So, how can we be of service, Cammina?"
Cameron heaved a long, long sigh.
"My client ..."
"You mean that prick, Hirst?" Matty cut in.
"Yes Matty, that prick, Hirst."
"Give me the phone," Matty heard a voice say.
A second later Simon Hirst was on the cellphone.
"Simon Hirst here. We need to talk."
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Matty laughed slightly.
"About what? You come into our village and try to terrify people into signing a document that gives you the rights to Tuckamore Bay. One of your goons assaulted me and another caused my dear friend, Henry, have a heart attack."
"Look, that was not suppose to happen. I gave strict instructions that no one was to be harmed."
"Well that worked just fucking peachy, didn't it," Matty snapped.
"Look Hirst, I know why you are calling. You fucked up. You got some fucking stupid idea in your head, probably from some movie you saw and you thought you could bring a couple bodybuilders here and force me and Bill into signing over the Bay.
