Bill could hear his name being called, but it was far away and muffled.
"Bill? Bill?"
It suddenly started to get louder.
"Bill. Bill."
Now he could feel himself being shaken.
Bill snapped from his dream world and slowly opened his eyes.
"Hey sleepyhead."
Matty kissed his lips.
Bill slowly got to a sitting position, on the couch and looked around.
"What time is it?"
"Eleven."
Bill wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.
"You just getting back?"
Matty nodded, as she slumped down beside him, on the couch.
"Yea. It has been a fucking gruelling day. Fuck."
She let out a long sigh.
"I need a drink."
Bill stood up and stretched.
"Beer?"
Matty shook her head.
"Scotch and not the cheap shit."
Bill walked across the room, to the small bar and returned with two glasses and a bottle of 21 year old Glenlivet scotch.
"Will this do?"
Matty smiled as Bill poured her a glass.
"What a fucking day."
She drank the two ounces and passed him the glass again.
"More please. This is really good."
"So? How did it go?"
Matty shook her head.
"I need another fucking vacation, after all that."
She stared at Bill, shaking her head.
"I won't bore you with the hours and hours of explanations and questions, but I will give you the end result."
She sat forward and took some documents from the satchel.
"First things first."
She passed Bill the first document.
"Your are now the proud owner of Tucker's General Store / Garage / Gas Station and the Tuckamore Bay Inn."
"Okay, so they agreed to the conditions?"
Matty lit a cigarette.
"They were more than happy to meet your conditions, to a point."
"And that point being?"
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...
