He hesitated.
I held out my hand.
“Show me what she signed.”
Richard’s expression hardened.
“I don’t carry paperwork around just because somebody demands it.”
“Then call Madison.”
He stared at me.
“Diane—”
“Call her. Right now.”
Before he could answer, a car pulled into the driveway.
Through the windows, I saw a silver SUV stop beside my vehicle.
A gray-haired gentleman stepped out.
Alan Mercer.
The potential buyer.
He checked the address, glanced at the unfamiliar cars, and approached the front door.
I closed my eyes.
Of all the Saturdays Richard could have chosen to turn my home into a vacation rental, he’d chosen this one.
Alan knocked.
I opened the door.
“Dr. Mercer, I’m terribly sorry.”
He looked past me at the people inside.
“Have I come at a bad time?”
I gave a helpless laugh.
“You could say that.”
Richard appeared behind me.
“I’m afraid this property is occupied for the weekend.”
Alan frowned.
“Occupied?”
“Yes. We’re running a very successful vacation rental operation.”
I turned toward Richard.
