Margaret Bismark sat at her desk in the Mayor's office. She was on the phone.

"One hundred and fifty," she said. "Yes and table cloths; Okay. How much? I see. Thank You. Alright."

She hung up the phone.

"Mikey!" she yelled.

"What is it?" the mayor said from his office.

"I found a deal on the tables," she told him.

"Great," he said, standing up. He walked into the room with her. "When is your next meeting?"

"Tomorrow," his sister told him, "at twelve."

"Will Sable be there?" he asked.

"Why do you still throw yourself at that woman, Mikey?" Margaret felt sorry for him but she was angry too. "You know what her family put us through."

"They were just defending their town," he said.

"Well it's our town now," she told him. "And she still wants to get back at us."

"No she doesn't, Margie. She's not like the rest of them."

Margaret shook her head.

"She just wants to be able to dig up part of the park. What's the big deal?" he said to her.

"And then what? What happens when she doesn't find what she's looking for? Then she'll want to dig everywhere, just like Walker said."

"No she won't," he told her. "And Michael Walker was wrong. Nobody goes to the park anymore. It's not really that essential to keep it intact. Besides, it would be a good excuse to remodel it. And we could rezone parts of it for business then."

"Can you hear that?" she said.

"What?"

"I think dad is turning over in his grave," she said.

"Margie, I know he had his reasons but I have my own."

"His reasons were that the Smiths wanted it this way."

"The Smiths!" he exclaimed. "I'm tired of hearing about the Smiths. Nobody cares anymore. We get less and less tourists with that lame story every year. We sell a few bells and we have a little ghost walk and we pull in less revenue all the time. We need to modernize and move on. This city is wasting away."

"Whatever Mikey," she told him. "You better keep that to yourself if you want to keep your job. Sable's put up with us so far but I don't know how long that will last."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked. "Sable has nothing to do with it."

"You think so, huh? You still really think she loves you?"

"Deep down she does," he said, "even if she's too stubborn to admit it."

"Stubborn? That's the pot calling the kettle... if I ever heard it," Margaret told him.