“I told you, since yesterday. I have a very painful bunion situation and my doctor says I should try to stay off that foot if at all possible,” Oscar said.

“What doctor? Dr. Scholl’s? Dr Pepper?” Merwin grabbed the decal, ripped it in half, and threw the pieces onto the floor. “That handicapped sticker is as phony as your doctor.”

“Did you really just do that?” Oscar poked him in the chest, and Merwin slapped his hand aside.

“No fighting!” Maya whimpered. “I don’t like fighting.”

“Hey!” Ava said sharply, stepping between the two men. She patted the little girl on the shoulder. “She’s right. Cut it out, you two. No fighting in the office.” She picked up the torn sticker pieces and handed them to Jensen.

“Oscar, you and I both know this thing isn’t real.”

“It is real,” the old man insisted. “The guy at the flea market said it’s totally legit. He’s a doctor, and he should know.”

“The flea market?” Merwin cried. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You think a licensed physician sets up a booth at a flea market? What? Between the tube socks and eight-track tapes? Or is he over on the aisle with the discontinued Avon products and the voodoo candles?”

“Dr. Jerry happens to see patients in his space by the Asian produce,” Oscar said. “He’s a very gifted healer. He gave me some ointment and my foot already feels a lot better.”

Merwin stuck his face in Oscar’s. “Quack!” he quacked.

“Merwin…” Ava sounded a warning.

Oscar took a step backward, but Merwin kept advancing, flapping his arms like a deranged duck. “Quack! Quack! Quack!”

The shorter man made a fist and reared back, ready to land a punch.

“Nooo!” Maya screamed. “No hitting!” She clamped her hands over her ears and buried her face between Letty’s knees.

Ava sprang into action. She spritzed Oscar in the face with a stream of sunscreen, then turned and aimed a spray at Merwin.

“Owww!” Oscar howled, clutching his hands to his eyes.

“I’m blind!” Merwin cried, staggering backward.

“You’ll both live,” Ava said, handing them each a tissue. “Now let’s settle this once and for all. Oscar, that alleged bunion of yours didn’t keep you from playing shuffleboard for two hours yesterday. And anyway, you don’t buy a handicapped sticker at the flea market. Merwin, that handicapped space is reserved for loading and unloading only. Says so right on the sign. It’s not your personal space. So after Oscar moves his car, you can pull up in your van and unload Trudi and your groceries. And then you move your car into the space in the parking lot that’s marked with your unit number. Understand?”

Oscar mopped at his face with the tissue and blinked rapidly. “My eyes! I think you burned my corneas.”