There was, of course, a fly in the ointment, and it was, not surprisingly, the landlord. Shelly, who turned out to be friendly and kind, also loved to gossip. She had told Betsy all about him. He was the brother of the original landlord, who had died a year ago, she reported. This brother was by no means the saint the original had been. The new landlord wanted to take advantage of the soaring land values. He proposed tearing down the old brick building and putting up something bigger.

But Margot, bless her kind but stubborn heart, wanted to stay where she was, where people anxious to buy just the right shade of green silk to complete their counted cross-stitch pattern knew where to find her. And Margot had four years to go on that extraordinary lease.

Shelly had described with awe the one visit she had had from the new landlord, whose name was a very prosaic Joe. He had come into the shop last Monday, she had said, with fire in his eyes, looking for Margot. Fortunately, Margot had been at the post office and he’d gone away again breathing threats and tucking some kind of paper back into his pocket.

Earlier today, over an incredibly delicious fruit salad bought at the sandwich shop next door, Margot had chuckled at Betsy’s alarmed query as to what Joe Mickels was up to.

“Oh, it was probably just another summons.”

“Another what?”

“Summons. It’s a tactic he’s come up with. Unlawful detainer of rent, possibly, or some other clause of the lease he’s trying to invoke against me. He figures a new one up every few weeks, he’s been doing it for the last four or five months. But I have James Penberthy on my side, he’s been wonderful.” Margot had smiled at Betsy’s inquiring face and explained, “He’s my attorney. He just laughs and says he’ll handle it. And he does. But it’s annoying, especially when I have to make a court appearance. I’m so glad Aaron taught me to keep very careful records. The last time, Joe tried to say I hadn’t paid my deposit when I first moved in here; but the canceled check was in my files, so I presented it in court and that took care of that. There’s no way Joe can run me off with those tricks, so long as Mr. Penberthy represents my interests.”

So not everyone who lived in Excelsior was friendly. And Betsy wasn’t as sanguine as Margot about legal maneuvers. What if Joe Mickels succeeded in driving Margot out? Where would Margot move her shop? There didn’t seem to be many empty stores in Excelsior—Betsy hadn’t seen a single one on Water Street, in fact. If Margot had to move to another town, and pay a higher rent, she’d lose customers. Could she then afford to keep Betsy as a guest? When Betsy had tried to talk to Margot about this again, Margot had laughed and waved her hand.