“I told you on the phone yesterday, we aren’t selling this house,” I said to the man.

“She phoned our main office in Decatur, sir,” Arthur said, looking down at his paperwork.

“She sent over a copy of the deed recorded with the county clerk.”

“That clerk’s record is out of date,” I said.

Vanessa’s right heel rapped the floorboards three times.

“Measure the downstairs rooms first, Arthur,” she said.

“He can bring his complaints to the township judge next month.”

“You don’t have my permission to walk through my house,” I told Arthur.