He shrugged.
“Eventually, Diane. Nobody lives forever.”
A woman near the dining table gasped.
Richard seemed genuinely surprised that anyone found his remark offensive.
I looked at the woman holding the wineglass.
“I’m sorry you’ve been put in this position. May I ask your name?”
“Sarah Collins.”
“Sarah, did you pay to stay here?”
She nodded.
“Twenty-four hundred dollars for three nights. We booked through a vacation rental website.”
Richard immediately interrupted.
“There’s no reason to discuss private business.”
I turned toward him.
**“You conducted business inside my house. That makes it my concern.”**
Sarah reached for her phone.
“I have the confirmation.”
She showed me the screen.
There was my house.
My deck.
My living room.
Even the antique rocking chair my husband had repaired during our first summer there.
The listing called it *Pend Oreille Lakeside Retreat*.
Under property management, it listed Hale Vacation Properties.
I looked at Richard.
“Who owns that company?”
“I do.”
“And who authorized you to advertise my house?”
“Madison.”
I took a breath.
“Show me.”
