Page 57 of The Husband Hour
He walked to the back deck, where he could usually find Henny sanding or painting first thing in the morning, but the tables were empty and she wasn’t outside. Her car was in the driveway, so he walked to the front porch and rang the doorbell.
“What are you doing out here? You lock yourself out again?” she asked when she finally opened the door. It took her so long to respond to the bell he thought maybe she wasn’t home after all.
“No. I’m checking out. I left my key on the desk. I just wanted to say good-bye.”
“So you’re not extending your stay?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have to get back to New York.”
Henny burst into tears. Okay, this was a bit more of a good-bye than he had bargained for. His phone rang, but he ignored it. Dropping his bag, he asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry. This is very unprofessional. You were a model tenant. It was great to meet you. If you can rate me on the website, that would be helpful.”
“Sure. Not a problem. But maybe…can I come in for a second?”
Matt hadn’t spent any time on the first floor of the house. The living room was just as quaint and comfortable as his bedroom, with cozy reading chairs upholstered in pale blue and yellow, a white wicker couch decorated with starfish throw pillows, a white wooden coffee table, and, of course, painted signs everywhere.
“Oh, you know, I want to buy one of your signs before I go,” he said, an attempt to cheer her up so he could leave without feeling like he’d walked out on her. “Something to remember this trip by.” Though he wouldn’t soon forget it. The place where his film died.
The comment brought a fresh wave of tears. “You’ll be the last person to buy one.”
“Why’s that?”
“Nora took them down from the restaurant walls. She needs room to sell fancy, expensive photos!” She blew her nose loudly into a handkerchief. “My signs have been on the walls of the café since the day it opened.”
This is what he got for procrastinating.
“Well, um, maybe another place in town will sell them.”
“I’ve been looking around but any other place wants too much of a percentage of the sale. I won’t make any money. And I don’t want to raise the price.”
“Maybe you should sell these online. Then you keep most of the money and you have your own virtual store. I know you said you don’t like doing things on the Internet, but that’s really where things are at now. You can sell to people all over the country. All over the world.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe when my son comes to visit for Thanksgiving he can set it up for me.”
“It’s not complicated. I can get you up on Etsy in no time.”
She brightened. “Really? If you can do that for me, I’m happy to give you a few nights here free of charge.”
“Thanks, but—”
“I insist!”
“I appreciate it, but I was here for work and now things have fallen through. I don’t have any reason to stay.”
The doorbell rang.
“Now, who in heaven can that be? And I’m a mess.” She dabbed at her eyes.
“Do you want me to get it for you?”
She nodded. Matt walked to the door, recalculating his timeline. He could set her up on Etsy, then grab lunch, then hit the road. He’d be back in New York by four.
Matt opened the front door.
“I changed my mind,” Lauren said. “I’ll do the interview.”
He stared at her.
