But halfway through the night, the heavy diner door chimed loudly. He marched in, aggressively shaking his wet umbrella, and slid right into his usual corner booth. I quickly walked over with the fresh coffee pot, fully prepared to offer an apology for my outburst.
Before I could even open my mouth, he slapped a heavy, brass key onto the tabletop.
I just stared down at it, utterly confused. “What is this?”
“My house has a massive attic,” Mr. Gideon grunted, stubbornly refusing to make eye contact with me as he adjusted his napkin. “It is fully insulated, has its own private bathroom, and it is currently filled with thirty years of useless dust and old encyclopedias.”
I blinked, completely caught off guard by his words. “I still don’t understand.”
“I am officially offering you a lease, Vesper,” he said gruffly. “Your monthly rent is exactly zero dollars. In exchange, you will clear out those heavy boxes, sweep the floors, and maybe make an extra plate of whatever you happen to be cooking for dinner twice a week.”
