The next morning, Thursday, Bunce sat in the diner booth facing Alice, his arms crossed, his frown deeper than usual as he listened to Alice lay out the plan.
Ona sat next to her. Having the inn-keeper at her side made Alice feel more confident. So did their other guest: Across from them, next to Bunce, sat Mayor MacDonald.
It had been a big win to get him to support their plan. Not only had he liked the idea, he’d offered to join them, in case he could help sway Bunce. But he wasn’t optimistic. He warned them that changing the bookstore owner’s mind was like trying to reason with a goat.
She finished presenting their fundraising idea to Bunce. They sat in silence, waiting for him to speak.
He didn’t. He went on frowning at her.
“So, what do you think of the idea?” Alice asked.
Bunce snorted.
Alice glanced at Ona, who raised a shoulder in a shrug.
“You don’t like it?” Alice asked Bunce.
“I hate it.”
“All right.” Alice took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “What part of it don’t you like?”
“All of it,” Bunce said. “Any of it.”
“Because…?”
“Because you’re expecting me to do all kinds of work.” He said the word work as if it were something offensive, even perverse. “Ever since I bought the damn bookstore, it’s been nothing but work, work, work. I’m done.”
“But we’re not asking you to do much…”
“There it is.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Those two pernicious words, ‘not much.’ I know how much work is involved in ‘not much,’ and I refuse to do it.”
Mayor MacDonald said, “Bunce, you’ve never been much of a worker bee, have you?”
Bunce snorted again.
“I see,” Alice said.
“I doubt you see anything,” Bunce grumbled. “But at least now you know.”
“Look, we’re happy to do the work,” Ona cut in. “Aren’t we, Alice?”
Alice nodded. “We’ll do the work. We’ll even do it out of sight and out of earshot, if that helps.”
Bunce narrowed his eyes, studying them with suspicion. “All of it?”
“All of it,” Ona confirmed.
Bunce stared at them. Then shook his head.
“No. I know how it will be. I’ll still end up being inconvenienced.”
Mayor MacDonald sighed. “I’m afraid I was right. Bunce is, if nothing else, admirably committed to his stubbornness.”
Becca came over to pour coffee refills. As she busied herself with filling coffees, she made a casual comment: “Bet there’s one person who’ll be much more inconvenienced.”
Bunce glared at her. “Who? Who could possibly be more inconvenienced than me?”
“Darrell Townsend.” Becca finished filling the cups and stood back. She gave a shrug. “What happens when the bookstore deal falls through? He already has plans for that space. He’s probably scheduled bulldozers and the whole nine yards. All of it will have to be canceled. It will be a huge hassle. He’ll be furious.”
Bunce released his arms from across his chest and snatched up his cup of coffee and slurped it.
“How huge a hassle?” he asked, eyeing Becca with suspicion. “How furious?”
“Remember after that protest got in the newspapers and he had to abandon his strip-mall project? Remember how he smashed a window at his office?”
“Threw a chair right through it,” Bunce said, and smirked.
Becca moved on to the next booth to refill someone else’s coffee. Meanwhile, Bunce sipped his own coffee, his brows deeply furrowed as he thought. But the smile continued to twitch at the corner of his lips.
“All the money from the fundraiser goes to me?”
“To fix up the bookstore, so you can sell it.”
“And you do all the work?”
“All the work,” Alice said. “We’ll raise the money by hosting an event and selling off your stock. Then we’ll organize the refurbishments and work with Mayor MacDonald and Kris Cox to get new buyers. We’ll do everything.”
Bunce stroked his chin. Then leaned forward and said, “It’s a deal, but—” He held up a finger. “—I’m not getting any younger while you all dilly-dally. I give you three days, until Saturday, to do this fundraiser. No more.”