“AFTER I LEAVE town, my parents might tell you they’ve changed their mind about selling the house,” Liz said to Shane. She had met him at Coffee Emporium on Erie Avenue. “My mom especially, but don’t trust her. If that happens, call me right away.”

“I appreciate the sensitivity of the situation,” Shane said. “But this could quickly get beyond the legal scope of what a real estate agent can do.”

“They want to sell the house,” Liz said. “Or at least my dad recognizes that they have no choice. If they say otherwise, just treat it like static. And the minute you know another agent is planning to show it, call me, I’ll call Mary or Kitty, and one of them will make sure it looks okay and get my parents out.”

Shane squinted in a way that took Liz a few seconds to recognize as fake casual. “Speaking of Kitty,” he said, “how old is she?”

“Twenty-six.” Liz felt a mercenary and possibly disloyal temptation to add, And if you sell our house, she’s all yours. But he hadn’t yet asked if she was single; he was wondering, Liz could tell, but he hadn’t asked.