Read Online A Dollhouse to Die For (A Deadly Notions Mystery) by Cate Price - Free Book Online

container held nine spools of thread, and it was also filled with notions such as a sock darner, a vintage can of Singer sewing machine oil, bits of trim, buttons, and tailor’s chalk.
    He took a few spools off the dowels, tossed them back into the basket, and moved on, leaving the lid askew. At the Welsh dresser, he opened up a neatly folded French damask tablecloth, and tossed it down, leaving it lumped in a white mound.
    I gritted my teeth. I’d need to straighten up this whole place when he left. I scurried after him, picked up the sewing basket, and brought it back behind the counter.
    He waved toward the envelope. “Why don’t you open it?
Open it
.” For all that he was well-dressed, his nails were red and raw. Bitten down to the quick.
    I picked up the package and pulled out two thick sheaves of paper.
    He lifted the lid of the hand-painted Hepplewhite blanket chest and let it fall down with a bang. The rack of vintage clothing was next, and as he swished through the hangers, one of the dresses slipped onto the floor.
    With an effort, I dragged my attention back to the lease and quickly scanned it for the salient points. I gasped when I saw the monthly rental amount.
    “But this is
crazy
! This is three times what I’m paying now. You can’t just raise someone’s rent this high and expect them to suddenly come up with the money.”
    “Sure I can. You’ve been paying way below market rent.”
    “But . . . but look at this village,” I stammered, my heart pounding. “Millbury is miles from anywhere. It’s not like we’re in the heart of the downtown Doylestown, for God’s sake.”
    Chip Rosenthal shrugged. He nodded at the antique quilts hanging on the walls. “From what I can see, you’re making a decent living.” He nibbled at his fingers for a second. “The ball’s in your court. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to make it happen and we’ll have a meeting of the minds.”
    I sucked in a breath and tried for a calm, rational tone, even as my adrenaline was raging.
    “Look, Mr. Rosenthal—Chip—I’ve always paid my rent on time. I’ve been a good tenant.”
    “That’s really great, yeah.” He glanced at his phone and pounded the keys on the screen. “And we appreciate that,” and then there was a pause as he finished typing his message, “but it’s time for a reality check.”
    If he used one more buzzword, I’d scream.
    He looked up and smiled, as if this was the point in the conversation where he’d planned to insert one. “At the end of the day, either you sign a new lease, or you have thirty days to get out.”
    “But what about all the work I’ve done? Refinishing the floors, installing the display windows, a new air-conditioning system . . .”
    He grabbed a copy of the lease and flipped through until he tapped on one page. “‘Article 10—Alterations, Improvements, and Trade Fixtures.’ All alterations, additions, or improvements to the demised premises shall on expiration of the term become a part of the building and belong to the landlord and shall be surrendered with the premises.”
    He tossed the document onto the counter. “Heard you bring a dog in here sometimes, too. We’ll need to up the security deposit.”
    “Why are you doing this?” I hated the quiver in my voice, but I couldn’t help it. “Do you
want
to see me fail?”
    He smiled again. “Of course not, but if you decide to leave, I have plans for this place. It’s up to you. I’ll be back in a couple of days to pick up the executed documents. Let’s make it happen, shall we?”
    Helpless with fury, I watched the hyper young man, so cavalier about ruining my business and my future, stalk out onto Main Street and slide into his new Audi.
    Guess he wasn’t wasting any time spending Sophie’s money.
    Damn it. What kind of businesswoman was I anyway? I should have locked into a long-term lease in the first place, when I opened the store.
    But you didn’t know how it would all pan