I stood on the tiled patio beside the dark water of the pool, holding a glass of tap water.

The casita door behind me stood open three inches to let the cooler air move through the little bedroom.

Through the dark hibiscus hedge along the side fence, I heard the sharp snap of the main house’s patio gate swinging open.

Daniel was pacing slow circles around the concrete deck with his cell phone pressed hard to his ear.

His voice carried plainly across the still surface of the pool.

“No, the asking price is firm,” Daniel told the phone.