“Yes.”
“My name is Margaret Whitaker. I saw your card at the library. I have a four-bedroom house on Linden Street. I need someone once a week. Are Thursdays available?” TourProperties
At that point, every day was available. I would have cleaned her house at three in the morning if she had asked, but I tried to sound professional.
“Let me check.”
I stood in the rain pretending to review an imaginary calendar.
“Yes. Thursdays are open.”
“Good. Come tomorrow at ten.”
Then she paused.
“You’re crying.”
I froze.
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