“Sorry,” Audrey said, obviously taken aback. “I must have pushed the wrong buzzer. I’m looking for Leanne Lo—”

“Grandma!” he hollered over his shoulder. Then he turned back to Audrey, running his jumpy, mud-colored eyes over her body. “You must be the new tenant.”

His feral stare sent a shiver down my spine, but Audrey remained as composed as ever.

“Good morning!” a singsong voice called as a small, smiling woman with a creased face and vibrant maroon hair appeared behind him. “You must be Audrey. Let me grab the keys and we’ll go down to the unit. This is my grandson, Ryan. He lives on the first floor here.”

As Leanne bustled away, Ryan looked at Audrey and curled his mouth into a smile, revealing small, yellowed teeth. “Hello, neighbor.”

This is why you don’t rent apartments over the internet, I thought uneasily.

“Tell your grandmother I’ll be waiting downstairs,” Audrey said brusquely. She pivoted and hopped down the stairs, ponytail bouncing, mouthing oh my God to me.

“You don’t have to do this,” I hissed to her. “I can look at your lease. I’m sure there’s an escape clause or—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “Honestly, you should have seen some of my neighbors in New York. They’d make this guy look like Mister Rogers.”

“Here we are,” Leanne trilled, hobbling down the stairs.

She unlocked the gate under the stairs and then the door, and Audrey and I followed her inside. I held my breath as I ducked through the hobbit-sized doorway, prepared to see one of the dark and dreary “English basements” that were so ubiquitous in the city. To my surprise and delight, however, we stepped into a decently sized, recently renovated apartment with an open-plan living area. The faux wooden floors gleamed, the updated appliances in the small kitchen shone, and the whole space smelled like lemon-scented cleaner. Sunlight streamed in, despite the living area’s only window being partially blocked by an overgrown bush and covered in iron bars.

“What’s with the bars?” Audrey asked, pointing to the window.

Leanne pulled open a closet door. “Did I mention this unit has a washer and dryer?”

She then proceeded to hit the rest of the highlights—dishwasher, rain-style showerhead, ample closet space—before pressing two keys into Audrey’s palm (“The big one is for the gate, the small one is for the door,” she explained) and telling her to call if she needed anything. As Leanne gave us a final, cheery wave and pulled the door shut, I noticed there were three locks on the door.

“You should ask her about those other keys,” I noted, pointing to the pair of keys Audrey held. “But otherwise this place is incredible.”

“There’s no need to be hyperbolic,” she said, laughing drily. “But it’ll do until I find something a bit more upscale … or, you know, aboveground.”

“You know you’re always welcome to stay with me.”

“Thanks, hon.” She threaded one of her Pilates-toned arms through mine and tugged me toward the bedroom. “Come on, help me decide where to put the bed.”