“Listen, don’t push my patience!” called Al back.

“I can push anything I want. You’re not my real guardian!” shouted Fiona.

“Yeah and you’d better hope Mrs. Masterson doesn’t find that out!” shouted Al back angrily.

“Don’t yell at Fiona!” said Charlie, who had been watching this whole exchange worriedly.

“Oh, Charlie, give me a break, will you?” snapped Al, and left before Marlin could get his dinner into a food container.

Marlin had sent the manuscript out to the agent just that afternoon so Marlin no longer worked with Al in the morning and he wasn’t answering Marlin’s knocks at dinnertime but only leaving his empty food container outside the front door with a note saying Marlin should leave the dinner there and not disturb him, he was busy.

When a week went by and Al brought no news from the agent, Marlin decided to get back to work writing the second book in the series.

Midsummer came and Fiona began to relax because she had stopped once again getting threatening emails from Mr. Pennypacker and she hadn’t heard any more from Mrs. Masterson. Maybe Mrs. Masterson had forgotten them! Or the paperwork. Al had been cleaned up and convincing as their guardian. Perhaps if social services was so busy and understaffed the McCreadys weren’t worth their bother.

Just when Fiona began to relax about this she biked into the yard one night after a particularly difficult day with the golden beast, who had been in a bad mood and crying most of the day, to find not Al, not Mrs. Masterson, but Mr. Pennypacker sitting on the porch. He was still in his tie and vest so she guessed he had come straight from the office. He looked official and frightening and less like a garden gnome than the angel of death.

He didn’t even greet her as she climbed the steps. They simply looked at each other silently. She the elusive victim of his emails and he the phantom of dread.

“So,” she said finally, and sat down.

“Yes, you really have behaved unforgivably. I don’t often have to chase clients down to their houses.”

“I don’t suppose you often have clients with as much to lose,” said Fiona tiredly.

“Or to gain. That’s what’s so aggravating. I’m a busy man and I’m taking time to drive all the way out here to give you news that is beneficial to you because you refuse to answer my emails and as we know you are equally bad about Canada Post and phone calls. I’d half a mind to let the whole thing drop and let you lose the boat sale but I couldn’t do that to Martha. It was in her memory that I finally came before the potential buyer found something else.”

“Boat sale?” said Fiona.

“I see you not only didn’t answer them, you didn’t even read my emails. Yes, as you know, I said I would handle the sale for you and there is a couple anxious to buy and I have negotiated a very good price. But as the owner you need to approve the deal and sign the paperwork.”