"Bill? Bill?"
Bill appeared at the end of the hallway, in the new section.
"What?"
"There's someone at the door."
"So answer it," Bill shrugged.
"No. I think you need to," Matty suggested.
"Why? Probably just trick or treaters."
Matty shook her head.
"Nope. They would all be going to the Pub for their party."
Bill could hear another knock.
"You going to answer that?"
"Nope. Its for you."
Bill stared at Matty, as another, louder knock was heard.
He threw his hands in the air.
"You're serious?"
Matty leaned against the hallway wall.
"I am."
She pointed at the front door, in the older section of the house.
"Its for you."
Bill hurried up the hallway, stopping for a second to glare at Matty.
"You are getting weird."
She kissed his cheek.
"Love you too."
Another loud rap on the door.
"Best answer it. Sounds serious."
Bill shook his head, as he went to the door.
Before he opened it, he looked back at Matty.
"You're losing it, you know."
She was walking toward him, a huge smile on her face.
Bill rolled his eyes, as he opened the door.
"Any Mummers 'lowed in?"
Bill jumped back in shock, not only at the loud voices, but the strange looking individuals that were standing in his doorway.
"What the ..."
"Well, me son. Is any Mummers 'lowed in," one of the strange individuals yelled, again.
Matty walked to Bill's side.
"Mummers are always welcome," Matty yelled back.
"Our home is yours."
Bill stood in confused silence, as about a dozen or so, strangely dressed people came into the old section of his house. Immediately, one of them started playing an accordion, another a guitar and yet another, a fiddle.
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...