CHAPTER 21

Late that afternoon, Nisa and I went to Ainsley’s office to look over the contract. The security deposit was a kicker, but I’d get that back at the end of October. The real financial issue was the weekly cleaning fee.

“Melissa comes in once a week, no matter what,” Ainsley said when I tried to negotiate. “And there’s going to be a whole group of you, right?”

“Only four or five. But we’re all adults, it’s not like—”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the deal. People here really need the work, especially with winter coming. And Melissa is a good friend. I also need to factor in the price of insurance. There are all kinds of hidden costs you don’t know about unless you’re a homeowner. I’d rather you didn’t use any of the fireplaces—I haven’t kept up with cleaning them all, and it’s a fire risk.”

There were also a number of clauses holding Ainsley free of any liability due to unforeseen causes, including loss of life, sight, hearing, and many other unpleasant events.

“Is that normal?” Nisa pointed to a line. “‘Psychological trauma’?”

“In this state, you have to disclose to buyers if any tenant has ever considered the house to be haunted.”

“But we’re not buying,” said Nisa. “And you said it’s not haunted.”

Ainsley set a pen beside the sheaf of pages on her desk. “I’m just taking precautions.”

I took a deep breath. “In for a penny, right?” I signed and dated everything, leaned back in my chair. I felt fizzy-headed, like I’d stood up too fast, but I was sitting down.

“And what about Tru Libby cooking for us?” Nisa blurted out to Ainsley, then looked at me apologetically. “I mean, it would save all of us time and energy, right, Holly? You’re the only one who cooks. It would take the pressure off you—off all of us. Like at a residency, we could just concentrate on working.”

I thought about it. Nisa hated cooking. Stevie did things with seitan that, had they been inflicted on an innocent piece of fish or chicken, might constitute animal cruelty. I liked to cook, but not for days on end. And we couldn’t ask Amanda Greer to prepare our meals.

I turned to Ainsley. “What do you think? Would he charge an arm and a leg?”

Ainsley’s expression was unreadable. “Maybe an arm,” she said. “I think whatever he charged would seem extremely reasonable to people used to paying city prices. Would you want Melissa to come in more often, to clean up?”

I stared at the contract, adding up the rent and various fees.

Nisa took my hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything. We can all pitch in with meals, Holly, if that’s what you want. The others won’t mind—Stevie won’t, for sure. And Amanda, I’m sure she won’t either.”

Amanda. Could I honestly ask Amanda Greer to pitch in with cooking and cleaning? What if she hated my chicken with olives and lemon? Did she even eat chicken?

I ran a finger across Nisa’s knuckles. “No,” I said. “It’s a good idea. I want us to focus on work. I just need to budget for it. And probably I can write it off my taxes. So yes, Ainsley, if you don’t mind, ask Tru and Melissa if they’d be open to the idea.”

Ainsley nodded. “I’ll talk to Melissa and sound her out, see if I can get a number for you.”

She jumped to her feet, handing me my copy of the contract. “I don’t see any problem with you coming a few days early, if you want to get settled before the others arrive.” She seemed immediately more at ease now that the contract was signed, almost ebullient. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can what I hear from Melissa.”

Ainsley walked us outside to my car. I slid into the passenger seat and rolled down the window. For a few seconds I imagined Hill House and its tangled lawns, the rushing stream and the big black hare: everything transformed by the hours away into a bright image, like a page from a children’s picture book. I felt a sudden desire to be there now with Nisa, to hole up in one of the bedrooms and never emerge.

When I looked up, I saw Nisa still standing in front of Ainsley’s office. She gazed up at the promontory that rose high above us, hiding the view of Hill House. After a moment, she closed her eyes and began to sing.

“I feared I’d never have a home—

An outcast, hated and reviled

Until you found me, dear Tomasin,

And by your craft my enemies beguiled…”

I listened raptly, as did Ainsley. Nisa fell silent and spread her arms. Ainsley applauded on cue, and Nisa beamed.

“That’s one of the songs I’m working on for the play,” she explained.

“What a gorgeous voice!” Ainsley stared at her in delight, then at me. “Aren’t you lucky that your girlfriend’s your composer? Enjoy the rest of your stay—I’ll be in touch.”

“We will!” Nisa replied. She got into the car beside me, her face rosy with pleasure. “This will be good luck, Holly, I can feel it.”

“I do, too,” I said, meaning it, and started to drive back to our rental.