Page 13 of Casita Casanova
“No,” I retort, but I can’t argue with five grand a month, for six months. That income would take care of property taxes for the next few years at least. And I just got a part-time job, which will cover any additional expenses. I can always reassess selling the beach house down the road, but this would mean I wouldn’t have to move anytime soon.
Tension starts to leave my shoulders.
“Ma’am?” the woman nudges through the phone. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s… uh…”
A wild grin spreads across my best friend’s face. “You have a deal. We’ll call you back on Monday with the details.” Danielle pressesendon the call before I can speak, then she reaches across and lifts my chin to close my mouth. The woman has a new habit of speaking for me and she’s about to get an earful.
The phone buzzes again between us, and Danielle wastes no time pressing the green button to accept the call. “Hello,” she says, “Maryn Connelly’s phone.”
I glance around, searching for my friend’saudacity.
“It’s me again. Did you say your name is Maryn Connelly?”
“Yes,” Danielle answers quickly. “M-A-R-Y-N. Like Karen with an M.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Connelly. C-O-N-N-E-L-L-Y.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I just shake my head. There’s no stopping this train.
“Great, thank you. I’m afraid Monday will be too late to complete the paperwork. My client will bearrivingin San Diego on Monday afternoon. His flight is already booked. Can the casita be available by Monday?”
Danielle’s eyes widen.
I shake my head.No way.That’s less than forty-eight hours. We barely even started unpacking the boxes in the main house—
“Yes,” Danielle says, as if she’s suddenly gone blind and can’t see me frantically shaking my head and mouthing,‘no’. I raise my hands in the air and hiss, “Danielle!”
“Is the casita fully furnished?” the woman on the phone asks. “If not, we can send you some money upfront to furnish the unit before my client’s arrival.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I find myself saying on a sigh, even as my brain is screaming at me because what the hell is happening right now? The casita has always been furnished, because it’s always been Ari’s room when we vacationed here. It needs a good cleaning, but we can do that tomorrow. “The casita will be furnished.” Closing my eyes, I sigh and shake my head. What am Idoing?
Hopefully her client likes pink walls and white trundle beds.
“Wonderful. Is this a mobile number?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I will text you my email address so you can send over the lease agreement—updated to the full six-month term, of course—the physical address of the home, and any other details about the one-bedroom rental unit. Anything you think my client will need to know, et cetera et cetera, please send in that email, and I will have everything you require signed and returned to you this afternoon.”
“Okay, but…” I pause, waiting for my brain to catch up to my mouth. “Calling it a one-bedroom is a bit of a stretch. It’s a studio. At most. Six-hundred square feet. There’s not even a kitchen.”
“Is there an ensuite restroom?”
I bite back a laugh.Ensuitesounds a bit extravagant for what we’re talking about here, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”
“Will you allow my client full use of your kitchen?”
I shrug at Danielle and whisper, “What do I do?”
She leans over the phone. “Is your client a serial killer?”
“Surely not.” She sounds almost offended, but it’s a valid question.
“Then full access to the kitchen is fine,” Danielle says.
I smack my palm against my forehead. This woman is out of control.
“Is Ms. Connelly a serial killer?”
