"Is this all of your finances?" Mr. Milken, the accountant, asked Mrs. Tibble.
"Why, yes, why?" Mrs. Tibble asked.
Mr. Milken sighed. "Because, from what I've seen, I'm afraid that Ratburn really cleaned you out good."
Mrs. Tibble shivered. "What are you saying?"
"You have to declare bankruptcy, Mrs. Tibble,"
Mrs. Tibble's face went so pale that for a moment Mr. Milken thought of calling an ambulance.
"This is not true," she forced out in a hoarse tone.
"Your are simply in more debt than you can afford," Mr. Milken answered gently. "I would be happy to draw up a bankruptcy plan with you."
"I cannot afford to declare bankruptcy," Mrs. Tibble snapped, "I have two grandchildren, one now deaf and needing special care. I have no income besides a shrinking pension, and I'm no longer in a position to work."
"I'm terribly sorry, truly I am. But you have no choice at this point. If you don't do it now, you'll do it later with even more debt."
Mrs. Tibble tried to protest once more, but found she had no words.
Oh, no, not him again, Jane thought as she watched Samuel enter Chicken Planet. Jane was on cashier duty today, and she had been crossing her fingers that Samuel wouldn't show up today. So much for that.
"Hello, Jane," Samuel said. "It's good to see you again."
"Welcome back to Chicken Planet, Samuel," Jane forced out. "What would you like today?"
The odd thing with Samuel was that, unlike most regulars, he didn't order the same meal repeatedly. "I'll have the bacon chicken sandwich, please." He had not ordered that before. Jane wondered if he was trying to impress her with his inconsistency, or if he really wanted to gradually sample the entire menu.
"Very well, that'll be seven eight-three," Jane responded as she typed the order into the cash machine.
"Did you know there's a wine and chocolate festival over in the meadow on Friday?" Samuel asked.
She did, but answered "Can't say that I knew."
"It sounds like a lot of fun," Samuel nervously tugged his shirt collar. "I just thought you might want to know. If that's the sort of thing you like."
"That's nice, Samuel," Jane muttered. Why is this man such a coward? It was obvious he wanted to ask her to the festival. Would she go if he did? She had no way of knowing, because he was never going to have the guts.
"Well, it looks like your sandwich is ready," Jane said quickly as she noticed the order had been filled. She raced towards Samuel and handed him the sandwich. "Here you go, then. Next!"
"Deborah, your pie was mostly good," Chef Kamman replied in a grand voice, "but your choice of generic vanilla was disappointing. Molasses or bourbon would have been a much better addition."
"Yes, Chef Kamman, your absolutely right," Deborah responded.
"As your work was otherwise flawless, I will give you a second chance, Deborah," Chef Kamman said, "but remember I never give third chances."
"Of course, Chef Kamman," Deborah said quickly, "I won't let you down."
"We'll see. David, what have you made for us?"
"Well, Chef Kamman, we all know that people say that grapes and cheese taste great together, right?" David asked eagerly.
"They do indeed," Chef Kamman responded, looking slightly impatient.
David cleared his throat slightly. "Well, I wondered if the logic was the same with other fruits and cheeses. And with that, I give you a unique dessert- Parmesan strawberry pie!"
David heard of a fork drop, and realized everybody was staring at him like he was an alien. His stomach sank, and he wondered if perhaps he should have done a more conventional recipe.
"Parmesan strawberry pie?" Chef Kamman repeated in a tone that made it impossible to know what she was thinking.
"Yes!" David responded in what he hoped was a confident tone, "what could be more unique?"
Chef Kamman was staring intensely at the pie.
"Your decoration is perfect, David. That only leaves the question of the pie itself."
Chef Kamman lifted a fork, and gently took a piece of the pie. David marveled at how she always seemed able to do everything so neatly. He couldn't see a crumb left over from the piece Chef Kamman had taken.
Chef Kamman ate the piece then looked at David with a blank expression.
"David?" she asked softly.
"Yes, Chef?" David responded.
Chef Kamman smiled. "You have earned a solid place in this academy!"
Ben and Loretta were sitting in their parked their rental car in front of the ashen ruins of where the Read house had once stood.
"I don't know why he insisted on this as a meeting place," Ben complained as he looked at his watch in boredom, "It's a rather conspicuous location, isn't it?"
"Well, we don't have many other places to go, do we?" Loretta asked. "Oh, look, he finally showed up!"
Bailey stepped out of his rusted car, and walked over to Ben's window. "Nice seeing you two again."
"We're in a bit of a rush, Bailey. Do you have them?" Loretta asked.
Bailey nodded, and pulled out a small device from his pocket.
"Here you are. This remote will allow you to either hijack or take out any plane at any time, and is programmed to not be notice by metal detectors. Chip and his pilot won't know what hit them."
Loretta smiled. "They certainly won't. Thank you, Bailey. All your years undercover at the Crosswires have been so useful."
"Thank you, Madame. I need to get back before the neighbors recognize me," Bailey said quickly. "Good luck in Miami!"
Ben and Loretta speed off to the airport. They would teach Chip Crosswire quite a lesson about what declaring war on the mafia meant.