“We moved in about eight months ago,” I tell him.
Doubt flickers across his face, but it’s not like I’d lie about something like that.
“Who handled the build?”
Maybe he reallyisan inspector with all the questions he’s asking.
“Rusty was supposed to. He’s a local contractor. But Burt and Steve are the ones who made it livable.”
His eyes flicker at the names. “Is there something wrong with it?”
I hesitate. Do I tell him?
“Well…we can’t use two faucets at the same time. If someone’s washing dishes, no one else can take a shower or bath.”
“That sounds inconvenient.”
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “It can be. Especially at night.”
“Anything else?”
I don’t want to complain. It’s still our home, and I’m grateful, but…
“The toilet clogs with about four squares of toilet paper.”
He scrunches his nose, clearly not expecting that level of detail.
“And, like Lila said, I’m pretty sure there’s barely any insulation in the walls. We heard you up here like you were in the next room.”
He rubs a hand over his face, and I can’t quite read what that means.
“That’s good to know,” he says. “I’ll report that back to management. What about your shop? Is anything wrong there? And did you have to pay for the renovation to make it how you wanted it?”
“So many questions,” I say, having to replay them in my mind to answer. “Nothing wrong as far as electrical and the other stuff goes. I paid to have people come in and get it done quickly.”
He frowns. “Someone local as well?”
“Burt and Steve did work on it.”
Shaking his head he says, “But the company who owns it, the one I work for, they never reached out to pay for any of it?”
“No. I’ve had no contact with the owners whatsoever.”
“Who do you communicate with about rent and other information?” Max asks.
I raise an eyebrow. “You want to know who I send rent to? Shouldn’t your company know that?”
Max runs a hand through his hair. “I apologize for all the questions. I’ve been trying to track down keys and paperwork for these buildings over the last few days. Whoever handled all of it didn’t report it well, so I’m on a wild goose chase to get everything in order.”
“You look like you just became the janitor with that key ring,” I say, pointing to the jumble of metal.
He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know how people with this many keys do anything. I spent at least an hour trying to figure out which one unlocks the door downstairs. I’m grateful Maria Matthews had them, though. It makes it easier than trying to find someone to open everything.”
My brain catches on the name Matthews, and I say, “Is she a real estate agent?”
Max nods, and I share a look with Lila.
“Does she have a son named Joey?” Lila asks, her eyes going wide.
