Dobby, I Have...No Title

You know Dobby,  I've been thinking about the shoot-out the other day.  Technically, you didn't draw anything.
    Dobby:  (enters den with academic glasses on)  You are right I did not draw a picture.  I "withdrew" a "picture" from the pocket of my way cool brown leather duster.
A brown coat.  I don't remember seeing you in a brown coat.
    Dobby:  No Mom.  Not a brown coat.  A "duster"  like this.  With a graceful flourish of his front leg and paw a brown duster appears out of thin air.
(Mom glances from side to side suspiciously)  No hidden cameras.   How are you doing that?
     Dobby:  Mom.  Please.  One question at a time.  (with another flourish of his cat like reflexes the duster disappears into a cloud of...dust, what else?).  (Walking back and forth across the room like a brilliant professor thinking out loud).   What was I saying?  I "withdrew" a "picture" as opposed to your more literal pencil drawing.  Since drawing and a picture were involved I did honor the spirit of the exercise.  As a result you admitted defeat when you came home from work with the agreed upon "tasty" cat food.

Exhibit A.  Tasty brightly colored cat food.  Mixed in with Mom approved healthy crap.
  Dobby: (continues)  Which you immediately added to the food you prefer for me so I would not eat too much of the good stuff.  I started eating my prize last night.  Taking that fact into consideration, shall I keep my win on record?  Or do you want to start picking all that kibble out of my food bin and then start watching the litter box for the rest?
Okay.  You get to keep the win.  This time.  I'm watching you.  Closely.
  Dobby:  I know Mom.  I want you to know I have to work very hard to pull the wool over your intensely sharp eagle eyes.
At least you have to work at it.
  *Deep Philosophical Thought:  Handle a child like you would a burglar.  At some point you really can't stop them.  You can always slow them down.  If you are lucky, they will get tired, give up and move on the next house.  (Wait that didn't come out right...)
   Dobby:  It's okay Mom (cat rubs against Mom's leg with his face).  You can try again tomorrow.
   Dobby:  How about some of that cheezy romance of yours?

Okay.  Here we go.

     Jesse returned to her office determined to fix this mess the bakery was in.   Like many businesses the Stillings Family Bakery had good years and bad ones.  The bakery had been running almost as long as the town had existed and had a large, loyal following in the Tri-county area.  Profits were based on quantity.  Selling low priced high quality baked goods in a very large quantity.  The family philosophy was if you didn't sell your friends and neighbors a quality item at a reasonable price you wouldn't be the only kid on the block.  Eventually you would be asked to leave the block too.  The Stillings Family Bakery was just that; the only bakery in a fifteen mile radius and the best bakery in three counties.  Jesse didn't want to be the Stillings who let the bakery go under.
     She thought one more time about repairing the apartment, moving in and renting out her family home.  After what happened here?  That was no longer an option.  Jesse looked over the sticky notes of ideas littering the desk.  Rent out the main house. Nope.  She threw that one out.  Sell the main house.  Never! Sell the bakery building and lease it at cost from the new owner.  Too iffy.  Sell Dad's car.  Hmm...sell Dad's car.  Cameron Marshall may have married into the family but he loved the business every bit as much as her mother.  The same way Uncle Carl and Aunt Terri do.  She would have to double check with the attorney but Jesse was fairly sure the car had been a separate inheritance and not part of the house and bakery that are specifically noted as having to stay in the family.  Could Jesse make enough selling the car to repair the apartment and possibly have some left over to fill financial gaps until the holidays? 
***    
  At 3pm the phone rang, waking Kevin out of his sleep.  "Yeah."
     "Kevin?  Are you still sleeping?  It's practically dinner time."
     Kevin opened his eyes enough to read the clock.  After they adjusted anyway.  "I still have two hours, maybe more."
     "Pops and I are barbecuing today.  You're already late."
     "Huh?"
     "We're eating at four o'clock with or without you.  Beau said he picked up some more info about Jesse at church today."
     "Beau was in church?"
     "Don't question the miracle just be grateful for the reward.  In this case, help with your girl."
    "Thanks Hannah.  I'll be there by four."
   The call disconnected.  Kevin looked at his cat, Mr. Freeze who had been woken from his nap and was taking a late bath.
     "It looks like I need to get going.  Don't worry about me.  I'm going to hit the shower."  Kevin said.
    Mr. Freeze glared back.
      "I'll bring you a hot dog or something."  He got out of bed and headed for the master bath.