Soffit\u2019s Deli sat halfway up Spoke Street from the harbor, snugly squeezed between DiRosa Savings and Loan and Granny Frappler\u2019s Antiques.<\/p>\n
\n\tGranny Frappler\u2019s frizzy gray hair was, as usual, hastily braided into two frizzy gray braids and she was seated in her usual rocker by the front door as Ari passed, squinting intently at a glittering object while a man paced nervously on the sidewalk nearby.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cGranny Frappler,\u201d said the pacing man, \u201cI swear that George Washington himself used that doorknob, and on several occasions! You\u2019ve got to give me at least five-hundred bucks for that baby!\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\tGranny Frappler raised one eyebrow at the pacing man, took another good look at the doorknob and spat decisively into the street. \u201cI ain\u2019t givin\u2019 ya\u2019 two nickels and a subway token for this piece of dog scat,\u201d she said. \u201cIf George Washington\u2019d used it, I\u2019d recognize his fingerprints.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\tThe man stopped pacing, muttered something unintelligible but most likely rude, grabbed his doorknob and stomped down the street.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cGotta watch them shysters, Ari,\u201d said Granny Frappler. \u201cThey\u2019d try to sell you a road apple and call it a dinosaur fossil.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll watch out, Granny Frappler,\u201d said Ari as he ran into the deli. At the moment, road apples were the least of his worries. Between narrowly missing a Flossie Beemis trap, and getting spotted by Wilton Daylatch, real life was dicey enough.<\/p>\n
\n\tUncle Ellery was standing behind the sales counter. He held up a blue zippered pouch.
\n\t\u201cAri,\u201d he said, \u201cwould you mind? The bank closes in twenty minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cOk,\u201d said Ari. He didn\u2019t mind at all. At least Uncle Ellery was talking. And smiling. Besides, taking cash to the bank was better than cleaning the coffee machine.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cHi Ari,\u201d said the mailman coming in the deli, with a jingle of the bells on the front door.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cHi,\u201d said Ari, on his way out.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cNo-sirree,\u201d said Granny Frappler, riffling through a box full of odds and ends, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t buy that dog scat if George Washington\u2019s ghost himself tried ta\u2019 sell it to me. You watch out for shysters and ghosts Ari.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cOkay Granny Frappler, I\u2019ll watch out,\u201d called Ari.<\/p>\n
\n\tThe front door of DiRosa Savings and Loan opened with its usual whoosh, but beyond the door things were not usual at all. The tellers were usually chatty and friendly. Today, they were trying very hard to look busy, even if they weren\u2019t. Ari could tell because of the way they straightened papers that were already straight and glanced around nervously. Mostly, they were glancing at the bank manager\u2019s desk. Usually, a chubby man was sitting at that desk, with a small sign that said \u201cEd Cooley, manager.\u201d Today, a tall, thin woman with a smirky smile was sitting there instead, and the small sign said \u201cDreama Daylatch, manager.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\tBut the strangest unusual thing–and the thing that made Ari\u2019s stomach do a nervous flip–was on the wall. Usually there was a portrait of bank founder Caleb Calebsen in his gray suit, gray glasses, and gray hair. Now the portrait was of someone else–Wilton Daylatch with his black suit, spidery limbs, and reptile eyes.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cNext,\u201d said the teller in a quieter than usual voice. <\/p>\n
\n\tAri handed her his blue zippered bag.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cHi Ari,\u201d whispered the teller.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cWhy are you whispering?\u201d whispered Ari.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cMrs. Daylatch,\u201d whispered the teller, pointing discreetely at the manager\u2019s desk. \u201cShe likes it quiet.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cWhat\u2019s she doing here?\u201d whispered Ari.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cHer husband,\u201d whispered the teller with another discreet finger point, this time at the portrait of Wilton Daylatch. \u201cThey took over the bank.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cOh,\u201d replied Ari as the teller handed him his blue zippered bag and a receipt for the deposit. \u201cOh.\u201d He couldn\u2019t think of anything else to say.<\/p>\n
\n\tAri took one more look at the portrait of Wilton Daylatch on the wall, and left through the whooshing door. Something wasn\u2019t good about this. He wasn\u2019t quite sure why it wasn\u2019t good–after all, a bank was a bank, no matter who owned it–but something about this was definitely not good.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cGhosts and shysters,\u201d said Granny Frappler, still in her rocker, and still riffling through her odds and ends. \u201cI\u2019d trust the ghost before I\u2019d trust the shyster Ari,\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\tAri nodded, and went back in the deli to find that Uncle Ellery had stopped smiling. And he was pounding bagel dough. More precisely, he was pummeling bagel dough harder than Ari had ever seen him pummel.<\/p>\n
\n\t\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d asked Ari, hoping it had nothing to do with Finbar Fenker\u2019s nose.<\/p>\n
\n\tUncle Ellery kept pummeling with his right hand, and with his left picked up an open letter and slammed it back down on the counter. He clearly meant for Ari to look at it.<\/p>\n
\n\tAri picked up the letter. \n\tUncle Ellery nodded, and began to hack violently at a cucumber.<\/p>\n \n\tAri continued. \u201cAs allowed by line 64 in the 1914 tax code…\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \n\t\u201cKeep reading, keep reading,\u201d said Uncle Ellery.<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cOk. As allowed by the..<\/em>.blah blah blah…we are requiring full payment of your loan by the first of May…,\u201d<\/em> Ari read. Then he paused. \u201cWhat does that mean? That would be a lot of money, wouldn\u2019t it? Could you pay that much?\u201d<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cNo,\u201d said Uncle Ellery with a loud whack of his cleaver. \u201cCan\u2019t do it. I can always make the monthly loan payments, but I don\u2019t have sixty-thousand dollars sitting in my pocket if they\u2019re going to change the rules and make me pay off the whole loan now.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cSo the bank wants all its money back early,\u201d said Ari as if explaining it to himself. \u201cAll the money our family borrowed to start the deli. What happens if they don\u2019t get it?\u201d<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cThen,\u201d said Uncle Ellery \u201cit\u2019s not Soffit\u2019s Deli anymore. It\u2019s Hunker and Daylatch Incorporated\u2019s Deli.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cBut why would the bank…or Wilton Daylatch that is…want the deli?\u201d wondered Ari aloud.<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d answered Uncle Ellery. \u201cBut I\u2019m gonna find out.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Soffit\u2019s Deli sat halfway up Spoke Street from the harbor, snugly squeezed between DiRosa Savings and Loan and Granny Frappler\u2019s Antiques. Granny Frappler\u2019s frizzy gray hair was, as usual, hastily braided into two frizzy gray braids and she was seated in her usual rocker by the front door as Ari passed, squinting intently at a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[9],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=100"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":105,"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100\/revisions\/105"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=100"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=100"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.emilygillespieclement.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=100"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\t\u201cDear Mr. Soffit,\u201d<\/em> Ari read. \u201cDiRosa Savings and Loan is now under the ownership of Hunker and Daylatch Incorporated.<\/em> That means Wilton Daylatch, right?\u201d<\/p>\n