Millie studies me again, slower this time.
“Well,” she says finally, “that explains the tools.”
She pats my shoulder like I’ve just volunteered for a particularly dangerous expedition.
“Coffee?”
“Yes,” I say immediately.
“Please.”
She nods and walks away.
I watch her disappear behind the counter before turning back to Troy.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “That reaction did not make me feel better.”
Troy shrugs slightly.
“It’s a good property.”
I stare at him.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
That’s it. Just yes. I wait for elaboration and nothing happens.
Men.
“Because at the moment,” I say, leaning forward, “it feels like I accidentally purchased a mountain-shaped mistake.”
His mouth twitches.
“What’s wrong with it?”
I laugh once.
“Do you want the short version or the emotional spiral version?”
“Short.”
“Roof needs work. Gutters are hanging sideways. One downspout is missing entirely. The ground around the cabin is basically concrete, and every time it rains the runoff turns the yard into something that looks suspiciously like a trench.”
Millie appears again and sets two mugs of coffee on the table.
“Trenches are bad,” she says cheerfully.
“Thank you, Millie,” I say.
She pours coffee into both mugs.
“You’ll want the biscuit plate today,” she tells Troy.
He nods.
“Two.”
