“I don’t mind that,” Ronny said. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Most of downstairs had been converted to bedrooms except the kitchen and the parlor; even the old back porch had been enclosed at some point, when a bathroom was added to the house. The changes were obvious to anybody who had lived in old places like this one, and Ronny had seen his share of those. Upstairs was very plain, all the walls stripped of wallpaper and painted the same shade of white. Several doors were visible from the top of the stairs, most of them closed. At one of the doors Mrs. Delacy held a key and fitted it by touch into the lock.

The room she showed him was small, high ceilinged, with a narrow bed across the end. This had probably been a storage room or a large closet at one time, or maybe it had been an open alcove at the top of the stair landing, a place where a decorative table had sat, under a window that looked out over the street. The window was still there over the bed, a small table that could serve as a desk against one wall, and a wooden chair that sat beside a chest of drawers. A part of the space had been curtained off to make a closet. The walls were a dark blue up to the wainscot, white above that; a fine soft afternoon light shone through the window onto the bed.

“Do you have a car to park?” Mrs. Delacy asked. “Because I don’t have any parking.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t have a car.”

She appeared pleased at that, and reached for her skirt, making a motion as if she meant to fluff it or rearrange it. “The rent is seventy-five dollars a month, and you can move in any time.”

“Any time?”

“Well, once you pay me. And I will take a check as long as it doesn’t bounce but if it does I want to know why and after that I want to get my money in cash.”

“I’ll take it.” Ronny had his checkbook with him in the backpack and paid the rent on the spot, writing on the desk, thinking that it was his desk now. He had a place. The fact left him content, at least until the thought came that he only had a place provided he could find a job. Paying the rent left him about twenty dollars in the bank. He had another paycheck coming from the school newspaper but after that he was broke. “I don’t know when I’ll move in but I’ll let you know.”

She folded the check in half, by touch, matching the ends with her fingers and pressing neatly to make the fold, then slipping it into the pocket of her apron with the other papers.

Jamal appeared at the door. He was pulling another shirt over his head and adjusted it at his solid waist. “I can help you move tomorrow. I have my car.”