Of course. She could have used my help. She was what, eighty? Definitely spry for her age, but still.
I’m basically swimming in guilt at this point.
Spencer must sense some of my fatigue, or my need to wallow, or both, because he glances at his watch. “It’s getting pretty late. Did you have somewhere to stay tonight?”
Actually, he probably wants to get me out of his hair. I glance at his ring finger. No ring, but probably a girlfriend or someone waiting for him.
“Do you think you can drive me over to the inn?” Oh, wait. I lift a hand to my head. How could I forget? “Wait. I don’t have my purse. Do you think they can wait until morning for payment? I think I left it in the tow truck.” Lord, kill me now. I literally only have the clothes on my back.
I am such a pain in this guy’s ass.
Then another thought hits me. “Oh, or the farmhouse. Can I stay there?” Beverly mentioned I could take possession physically, if not legally. It’s not really on a farm, but it has a giant wraparound porch, a gabled roof, and shiplap siding.
He winces. “I’m afraid that will be a problem.”
“Why?”
“There is a provision for you to manage the theater and live in the house until you can take full legal ownership. But the residence has been uninhabited for over a month, and it’s winter. Per Beverly’s instructions, we winterized, and I’ve been doing enough to maintain the property so it doesn’t fall into disarray, but nothing beyond that.”
I stare at him. “What does that mean?”
He shifts, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, there’s no power. The pipes are drained, the water is off, and I don’t think it will be habitable for at least a week.”
“Okay.” Back to plan B. “So maybe we could try the inn and just see if I can pay later.”
He shrugs. “Or you can always stay here.”
Chapter Four
Spencer
* * *
“Here?” Her fingers clench on the armrests. “I wasn’t being serious about that whole becoming-one-with-the-couch stuff.”
I wave a hand. “No. Not here in the offices. I have an apartment upstairs. It’s not much, one bedroom, a bathroom, sitting room, and kitchenette. It’s all clean and furnished. We can go to the inn tomorrow and get you sorted after we get your things. It wouldn’t be a good idea to stay here long-term.”
She frowns. “Oh?”
I rush to explain. “Because it’s a small town. People talk. They would absolutely get the wrong idea.”
She nods slowly. “I see.”
Maybe she does understand, and yet, my mouth opens, and words keep emerging. “Only because I’m single, and you’re single?—”
Her brows shoot up.
“Oh, uh, at least I assume you’re single, and it’s not because they would think you’re some kind of floozy or something. It’s just kind of what the people in this town do—they would assume that we are,” I gesture between us, “having relations or something, which would be highly inappropriate as your legal representative, if it were true, which of course it isn’t. They love meddling here. As you probably know, since Beverly was one of the worst offenders.”
Dear lord, man, pick up the lamp and shove it in your mouth if it will make you shut up.
I rub my head. “Anyway, you know what I mean.”
She presses her lips together. “I think so. You, single; me, not floozy.” She nods. “I think I get it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m normally not so . . . awful, I swear. We’re number one in customer service.”
She grins at me. “I believe you.”
