Open Season by Linda Howard

of accomplishment. “Here we go. I cleaned up after the last bunch cleared out, so you don’t have to worry about trash or anything like that.”
    The house
was
clean, Daisy saw with relief as she stepped inside. The smell was musty, of course, but it was the odor of emptiness, not of filth.
    The rooms were small, the kitchen barely big enough to cram in a small table and two chairs, so she couldn’t imagine how crowded it had been with a family of four. The floors were all cracked sheet linoleum, but they could be covered with area rugs. The bathroom was small, too, but at some point the tub had been replaced with a blue fiberglass tub and shower unit that didn’t match the white toilet and sink. A small space heater jutted from the wall.
    Silently she walked through the rooms again, tryingto imagine them with lamps and curtains and cozy furniture. If she took the house, she would have to buy window units for air-conditioning, rugs for the floors, kitchen appliances, and furniture for the living room. She already had her bedroom furniture, thank goodness, but unless she bought the cheapest stuff she could find, she could expect to spend about six thousand dollars getting the place habitable. Thank God she didn’t live in a section of the country where the cost of living was high, or she would be looking at an expenditure of at least twice that amount. She had the money—that wasn’t a problem—but she’d never spent such a large sum in her life. Her stomach clenched in panic at the very thought.
    She could spend the money, or she could retreat to her mother’s house and live there until she grew old and died. Alone.
    “I’ll take it,” she said aloud, the words sounding strange and faraway, as if someone else had said them.
    Mrs. Phipps’s chubby pink face brightened. “You will? I didn’t—that is, you didn’t seem like the kind. . . This used to be a right nice street, but the neighborhood’s gone down, and...” She ran out of steam, unable to express her astonishment.
    Daisy could sympathize. Only a week ago—goodness, even yesterday!—she couldn’t have imagined herself living here, either.
    She might be desperate, but she wasn’t pathetic. She folded her arms and put on her best librarian’s face. “The front porch badly needs repairs. I’ll handle it for you, if you like, if you’ll take the amount of the repairs in lieu of the same amount of rent.”
    Mrs. Phipps crossed her arms,
too.
“Why would I do that?”
    “You’ll be out that amount of ready cash, true, but in the long run your property will be worth more and you’ll be able to charge more rent the next time.” Daisy hoped Mrs. Phipps was one who could see the long-term benefit, rather than thinking of only the rent money. Daisy had no idea how much the repairs would cost, but the rent was just a hundred and twenty dollars a month, so Mrs. Phipps could be looking at several months without any rent income.
    “I don’t think I can go without the extra money for that long,” Mrs. Phipps said doubtfully.
    Daisy thought quickly. “How about every other month? Could you handle that? I pay for the repairs now, then I pay no rent every other month until I recoup my money. Or you pay for the repairs and raise the rent a little.”
    Mrs. Phipps shifted her weight. “I don’t have that kind of cash to throw around. Okay, we’ll do it your way. But I want it in writing. And I want the first month’s rent; then we’ll start that every-other-month thing. None of the utilities are included, either.”
    For a hundred and twenty dollars a month, Daisy hadn’t assumed they were. She beamed and held out her hand. “It’s a deal,” she said, and they shook hands on it.
    “Kinda small,” Aunt Jo commented early that evening as she and Daisy’s mother inspected Daisy’s new digs.
    “It’ll do just fine,” Evelyn said stoutly. “A coat of paint and some nice curtains will work wonders. Anyway, it isn’t as if she’s going to