Chapter 9: Open Door

I tried to pay rent to a man who didn't own the house.

I had worked it out on the back of an envelope.

Two weeks in the Prescott guest suite, at what a decent hotel would charge, came to $1,680.

I took cash out of my own account and counted it into a clean envelope.

I wrote RENT on the front.

After dark I carried it across the lawn to the carriage house.

Mason ran the house, and I wanted the receipt signed by somebody.

He opened the door in shirtsleeves with a pencil behind his ear.

"Miss Tanner."

"Emme. Rent."

I held out the envelope.

He looked at it. He did not take it.

"Godfrey hasn't asked for rent."

"Godfrey is a man who looks at the ceiling," I said.

"A free room is a debt. I don't owe debts I can't see."

"Then it's a gift."

"I'd like it on paper."

"I'd like you to come in," said Mason. "The porch light attracts moths."

I came in.

The carriage house was one room and a loft, with a narrow bed upstairs.

The kitchen table downstairs had been mended with a wooden brace.

He had four books on the shelf and a clean sink.

I put the envelope on the table.

"One thousand six hundred and eighty dollars," I said. "Count it."

"I'm not going to."

"Then I'll write you a receipt."

"You'll write a receipt for money I refuse to take."

"That's what a receipt is for."

He turned away and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

I watched the muscle move under his shirt.

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