The white, lacy curtain-liner was jerked back into place as the brown haired, freckle-faced boy made his way up the cobblestone path to the front door. Mrs. Teasdale peered out from behind the sheer camouflage with cruel, calculating eyes while hawk-like talons gripped the fragile fabric. Her mouth twisted into a horrible sneer as she watched the boy bend over to pick up a daffodil. The dark, musty and stale interior of her home was a stark contrast to the cheery, sunny spring afternoon that everyone else was enjoying outside. The old lady's mouth was set in a firm, wrinkled line while deep creases folded into themselves between her scowling eyes as she watched his approach. Translucent face powder afforded little color to her pale complexion and only emphasized the fine, but long, wisps that bearded her chin. She hated children. She hated people. She hated everyone and wished for nothing more than to be left alone. Nothing is ever simple in the small harbor town that Jacob and Ralph Turner reside in and today was going to be no exception. With a mystery surrounding a cantankerous woman's death to a stolen bike that seems impossible to find to the discovery of a neighbor with a shady and criminal past, the Turner boys are as busy as ever. New friendships, and relationships, develop, old ones deepen and the group takes on another new member.