Julian came into the kitchen in a dark sweater and poured himself a glass of white wine from the bottle on the counter.

“The delivery crew is done with the main upstairs hardware,” Julian told Martha.

“The upper bedrooms will make a perfect management floor.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his personal key set.

He worked one loose key off the ring and laid it flat on the laminate counter beside his glass.

It was a heavy brass key with a strip of bright red electrical tape wrapped around its head.

My chest tightened, though my face didn’t change.