Kayla stared at me.
Then she marched upstairs.
A door shut.
“You’re right.”
Andrew took a sip of coffee.
“Think that went well.”
I looked at him.
“Not one word.”
“Understood.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Kayla came downstairs in jeans and a sweatshirt.
She had also found the ugliest old robe in our linen closet and thrown it over one arm.
“Not one word.”
She dropped it onto a chair as she passed.
“Happy?”
I looked at it.
“Thrilled.”
The room for rent belonged to a woman named Renee.
She was about Kayla’s age and worked from home three days a week.
She was about Kayla’s age.
The house was small but clean.
Kayla inspected the bedroom twice.
The second time, she opened the closet and stood there longer than necessary.
