Murphy thinks you forgot something. My dignity. My dignity. Anna expected to be at Tom Carter's house for 5 minutes, drop off Beth's paperwork, hand over the storage key, leave. Then the door opened, and there he was, barefoot, freshly showered, wearing a dark navy bathrobe, and looking absolutely nothing like the Mr. Carter Anna remembered from college.
For two full seconds, she forgot why she had come. "Anna?" He asked. She answered much too quickly. "Yes, definitely Anna."
Tom's eyebrow lifted. Anna shoved the folder toward him, reached for her car keys, and nearly escaped. "Narly." A large golden retriever appeared from somewhere behind Tom, took one look at Anna, gently snatched the keys from her hand, and trotted into the living room. "Murphy," Tom called.
The dog ignored him. Anna followed and found Murphy stretched across the rug. His broad golden head resting directly on top of her keys as if he had been assigned to protect them by the federal government. Tom folded his arms. Murphy.
The dog opened one eye. Those belong to Anna. Murphy closed it again. Anna pressed her lips together. Strong negotiator.
He has a terrible record on property rights. Tom disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a small dog treat. Murphy's ears lifted immediately. Anna nodded. Ah, corruption.
Active corruption. Tom held out the treat. Murphy considered the offer, stood, surrendered the keys, and accepted payment without the slightest shame. Anna bent to retrieve them. Thank you.
I'll make sure my report mentions that the homeowner is being extorted by his own dog. Please spell my name correctly. She looked up and for one strange second, 8 years folded in on themselves. Anna had known Tom Carter before, or at least she had known of him. Back when Anna and Beth were 21, Tom was the man carving turkey at Thanksgiving, while his wife Margaret corrected his seasoning from across the kitchen.
He was the father who clapped too loudly at their college graduation. The man who loaded Beth's boxes into the back of a car and insisted his back was fine, even while walking like it clearly wasn't. Anna had spent weekends in this house, eaten pancakes at this table, heard Tom calling from downstairs because Beth was making them late again. Back then, he had simply been mister. Carter, married, older, completely outside the frame of possibility.
Now, Margaret had been gone for 4 years. Anna was 30, and Tom stood 3 ft away in a bathrobe, looking quietly entertained by her discomfort. That was different. Far too different. Anna slid the keys into her purse.
Beth said you wanted me to take a quick look around while I was here. Tom's expression changed. Did she? Anna stopped. She said you were thinking about downsizing.
I am thinking about many things. She said the house was getting too big. It has not physically expanded. Anna laughed before she could stop herself. Tom smiled small and satisfied.
That's what I thought. She also said you might want to move closer to her. Might. Anna narrowed her eyes. How much of this conversation did you actually agree to?