The return address on the envelope revealed the letter was from Ewan McKay. Clutching the letter in his hand, he sprinted toward the pottery with his mind racing faster than his feet. What if Mr. McKay had decided to purchase the brickyard rather than the pottery? What would Mr. Bancock do? What would the employees do? He squeezed the mail a little tighter as his thoughts skittered like grease in a hot skillet. Mr. Bancock must sell the business, but a new owner would likely mean changes. There had been no other offers before or after Mr. McKay’s visit, and Mr. Bancock’s newspaper advertisements hadn’t yielded any further prospective buyers. Rylan offered a silent prayer that this letter would bear good news for all of them. He wanted the best for Mr. Bancock, but he longed to have things stay the same. A few minutes later, he crossed the steel railroad tracks that divided the pottery from the main section of town. Waving the letter overhead as he entered the office, he stepped alongside Mr.
