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the bank doesn’t open for another two hours.” He pointed a finger at the schedule posted on the window, a schedule that hadn’t been there when Lyle was alive.
    Confused, Shirlene stared at it for a few seconds, just long enough for the man to start to close the door.
    “Now wait just a minute.” She pushed it back open, which wasn’t difficult with such a scrawny man holding it. “I realize I’m here a little bright and early, but I need to speak to Luther.”
    His thin eyebrows arched. “Are you referring to Mr. Briggs?”
    “That would be the one.” Shirlene slipped inside, Sherman close on her heels.
    “Have you lost your mind?” The little man stared down at Sherman, who started licking the solid wood floor like it was coated in honey. “You can’t bring that filthy animal in here.”
    Now Shirlene had always believed in being cordial, especially to a stranger who didn’t have a clue who she was. But she couldn’t let the slight go, not when Sherman was extremely sensitive. Still, the best set-downs were done with a smile, and she flashed him one of her better ones.
    “What’s your name, honey?”
    “Mr. Reginald Peabody the third,” he sputtered with indignation. “But it doesn’t matter what my name is, young lady. You can’t just bust into a bank that is not open for business—especially with a… pig!”
    Shirlene’s eyes narrowed. “Well, Mr. Peabody, I think that’s exactly what I did. And Sherman’s not just a pig. He’s our new town mascot.” She flapped her hand as the man started to speak. “Yes, I know that we’re the Bramble High Bulldogs. But since Emmett died a few months back at the ripe old age of fifteen, Sherman here is filling in until we get us a new bulldog. And let me tell you, that little purple sweater with the ‘B’ on it looks breathtaking against all that pink skin.”
    “B-but,” the man stammered.
    “No ifs, ands, or buts about it, Reggie. School pride is school pride. But if it will make you feel any better, Sherman and I don’t plan on staying very long.”
    “Just because he has a name,” Mr. Peabody groused, “doesn’t mean he can be in my bank.”
    Shirlene’s eyebrows popped up. “
Your
bank?”
    “Well, not mine exactly.” His pointy chin came up. “But I’m the new bank manager. So therefore, I’m the man in charge.”
    Shirlene knew that the bank had been sold—just another one of Lyle’s assets that had been auctioned off tothe highest bidder after his death. She just hadn’t considered the fact that Luther Briggs would no longer be working there. But now that she thought about it, it made sense. Luther would never have repossessed her house without talking to her first.
    “And if you don’t take that animal out of here this instant,” Mr. Peabody continued, “I’m reporting you to the authorities.”
    It was a lame threat considering Sheriff Winslow had absolutely no authority over anyone—not even his wife. But regardless, Shirlene didn’t want the sheriff knowing about her situation so she tried to smooth things over.
    “Now there’s no need to call Sam. If you’ll just give me the keys to those new locks you’ve put on my door, I’ll be out of here in a jiffy.”
    The man looked confused for only a second. “Ms. Dalton?” he asked.
    “That would be me.” She held out a hand. “Keys?”
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
    Her smile slipped. The little man had really started to try her patience. “And exactly why is that?”
    “I gave you plenty of warning, Ms. Dalton. And a banking institution will never survive if they don’t collect the money owed them. You had an obligation to make your loan payments, and you defaulted. Therefore, your house reverts back to the bank.”
    “Reverts back to the bank?” Shirlene’s eyes narrowed as she took two steps closer. “Are you trying to tell me that you own my house?”
    The man stepped back and nervously straightened his tie. “If we don’t receive