After Steven and I got off the phone, I heard a car pull up in front of the house. I looked out the window and there was a red Honda, a car I didn’t recognize. We almost never had visitors at the summer house.
I dragged a comb through my hair and hurried down the stairs with my towel wrapped around me. I stopped when I saw Conrad open the door, and a woman walked in. She was petite, with bleached blond hair that was in a messy bun, and she wore black pants and a silk coral blouse. Her fingernails were painted to match. She had a big folder in her hand and a set of keys.
“Well, hello there,” she said. She was surprised to see him, as if she was the one who was supposed to be there and he wasn’t.
“Hello,” Conrad said. “Can I help you?”
“You must be Conrad,” she said. “We spoke on the pho
