“I’m not sure,” Sarah said, lying coolly. “I’m not sure it’s right for me. I’d like some time to think about it. Can I call you?”
“No, you can’t.” The edge of hysteria was back in Valerie’s manner; in a moment, Sarah thought uneasily, Valerie would go white and rigid, her eyes would close, and she would sway in the breeze of her own madness. “Tell me now, you have to. Do you want it or not? Will you live here?”
She had known from the moment she set eyes on the house that she wanted to live here, but something, perhaps just her visceral response to Valerie, made Sarah hesitate and even doubt her own feelings. Why did she want this house, why should she? She could list the drawbacks of it as easily as she could list the positive aspects—perhaps they were the same. The size, the isolation . . . Was she about to rush into something she would later regret? Was it just her angry pride which made her want this house, to show the world—and Brian in particular—how happy she was to live all alone?
“Why are you moving?” Sarah asked, staring hard at Valerie. “If it’s such a good house, and the rent is so low, why are you moving now, six weeks into the semester?”
Valerie’s mouth quirked into a tight, unhappy smile. “Why are
Of course. She’d walked right into that one, despite her best intentions. Sarah crushed the paranoid suspicion that Valerie somehow knew the answer already and was laughing at her. She drew a deep breath, determined not to reveal her distress, and said calmly, “I broke up with the man I was living with.”
It burned her throat like a lie. But it wasn’t a lie, not wholly. She made it sound like a matter of choice, her choice, and only that part was untrue. But she wouldn’t think about it now.
Valerie made a sound that might have been laughter. “All right. I don’t care. I . . . didn’t want to live here anymore. I’m living somewhere else now, somewhere much nicer. With someone who is very rich. He gives me lots of nice things.” She sounded anything but happy about it, and Sarah felt a twinge of pity for this stranger and her problems.
“Now tell me,” said Valerie. “If you won’t live here, then I have to find anyone else. I . . . I don’t want to waste any more time. You can see I’ve already moved out, and . . . the house shouldn’t be empty.”
It would be silly to say no to a perfect house just because the former tenant was a little crazy. And it would be cowardly to say no because she was afraid of the isolation and solitude—isolation and solitude were just what she wanted.
“I want the house,” Sarah said firmly.
Valerie smiled, and the feral, self-satisfied nature of the smile gave Sarah goosebumps, made her for one wild moment want to retract her agreement and run like hell.
“I’ve given Mrs. Owens your name,” Valerie said. “She’s the owner. There’s no lease, no deposit. She was grateful to me for finding someone to take my place. She’s very old, and she doesn’t like the bother of showing the house. She trusted me to find someone who wouldn’t be any trouble, someone who would pay the rent on time. You won’t be any trouble, will you?”
Now Sarah had a reason for her unease. How could Valerie have presumed to give Sarah’s name to the owner before Sarah agreed, before she had even seen the house? She could still back out—
Valerie dug into a pocket of her tight jeans and withdrew a scrap of paper. “This is Mrs. Owens’ address, where you’ll send the rent. Don’t go bothering her; she doesn’t like to be bothered. That’s one reason the rent’s so low. You’ll have to keep the lawn mowed and do any minor repairs yourself.” When Sarah did not move to take it, Valerie pushed the scrap of paper closer and flapped it impatiently in Sarah’s face. “Rent’s due the twenty-second of each month. Eighty-five dollars. Remember that.”
And when had Valerie had time to call Mrs. Owens?
Valerie cocked her head and smiled slowly, mockingly. “Of course . . . if you want to change your mind . . . if you think you’d be scared, living out here all by yourself . . .”
But Valerie was lying, of course. She was crazy. And what she said didn’t matter. This was Sarah’s house now, and she could just send Valerie away. Sarah plucked the piece of paper from Valerie’s hand, accepting the house, committing herself. “I’ll send Mrs. Owens the first month’s rent next week.”
“Good. Move in whenever you want, the sooner the better. He . . . Mrs. Owens doesn’t want the house standing empty for long.” Again Valerie dug into her jeans. “Here’s the key to the back door since you were worried about it.” She tossed a bit of light metal at Sarah, who managed to catch it in midair.
Halfway to the door, Valerie paused and looked back. The mad, sly smile was on her face again, and it still gave Sarah goosebumps. “Do you have a cat?”
Sarah frowned and shook her head. “No. Why?”
“You might want to get one. I think there’s a rat in the cellar.”
“Cellar?”
