“You swore to us this was a short-term arrangement,” she pressed, her voice climbing, “just until your development deal closed!”

Lorraine moved on it like a hawk.

“What development deal, Marlene?”

Marlene dug into her purse and produced a glossy marketing brochure, the kind that sells a place to people who have never seen it.

A luxury resort developer had offered one point eight million dollars for the cabin and the forest acreage that came with it, with a closing date set for the coming Monday.

The seller named on the purchase agreement was not me.