Chapter 3
Several weeks earlier, a retired physician from Spokane named Alan Mercer had contacted my real estate broker about buying a second home near the lake.
He had already toured the property once, and this Saturday visit was supposed to help him decide whether to submit an offer.
Instead of preparing to welcome a serious buyer, I was standing in my own living room surrounded by strangers who believed they had legitimately rented my house.
And Richard, the one man who should have been explaining himself, seemed completely unconcerned.
I looked at the suitcases, the occupied sofa, and the unfamiliar faces staring back at me.
Then I turned toward Richard again, unable to forget the two words he'd said so confidently just moments earlier.
"She will."
He had spoken as if Madison's future ownership were already settled, as if my decision to sell meant nothing, and as if he had every right to profit from a property that wasn't his.
I stepped closer to him, my anger rising.
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What will Diane do next — and does Madison actually know what Richard has been doing?
Comment **"NEXT"** if you want Part 2.
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# CHAPTER 2: The Folder on the Patio Table
"Richard," I said, keeping my voice low and steady, "how many weekends has this been going on?"
He crossed his arms.
"A few."
"How many."
"Since March."
March.
Four months.
My house had been rented out to strangers since March, and my own daughter had never said a single word to me.
One of the guests quietly set down his glass and started moving toward the staircase.
"We should probably pack up," he murmured to his wife.
Richard held up a hand.
"Nobody's going anywhere.
May you like
This will be sorted out in five minutes."
"This is not your call to make," I said sharply.
