Wash Her Feet novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Gravel

I walked out of the clinic barefoot and did not go back for my shoes.

Rafe was already in his truck at the curb, with the passenger door open.

I got in without a word, and he pulled out without asking where.

"Friday," I said. "He said the house goes on the market Friday."

"Then we go look at your house."

He drove me to Alder Street and stopped at the gate, where a white sign had appeared on the lawn.

FOR SALE. A smiling woman's face, a phone number, and a lockbox hanging off my father's front door.

"I never listed anything," I said, and my voice came out thin.

"Did you sign anything?"

"Lance brought home insurance renewals last month. Forms. A huge stack, and he flagged where to sign."

I closed my eyes.

I had signed forty pages without reading one, because he had asked me to, and because it was Lance.

Rafe's phone buzzed on the dash, and he looked at it and swore.

"The site," he said. "They've moved the pour. I have to be on the steel in twenty minutes."

"Go," I said. "I'm fine."

"I'll be back at six."

"Go, Rafe."

He waited until I was through the gate before he drove away.

I walked up the gravel drive in my bare feet.

The lockbox was bolted on.

A woman in a navy blazer stood on my porch with a clipboard, and she gave me a bright, professional smile.

"Ms. Bradstreet? I'm the listing agent. Lance's cousin. I just needed to photograph the kitchen."

"You're trespassing," I said.

"Not exactly. Your signature's on page eleven."

She turned the clipboard around.

It was my signature, loopy and rushed, under a heading that read EXCLUSIVE RIGHT TO SELL.

My throat closed.

"Get off my porch," I said.

"I'll come back with Lance," she said pleasantly, and she walked down the steps and left.

I went into the house and locked every door.

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