He shrugged his massive shoulders. Seriously, if he tried to come in, he’d have to turn sideways to manage it. He held the envelope out and said, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Reluctantly, I took it. I glanced at him and asked, “Scale of one to ten—with one being ‘What infraction of the rules?’ and ten being ‘Let’s stone her to death!’—how mad was he that I used the hot tub?”

Jackson’s lips twitched. “Funny you should use the scale of one to ten.”

“Just trying to get an assessment of the potential fallout,” I said.

“Understood.” He looked up at the dark night sky and then down at the ground while he considered his answer. “I’d say a solid seven. It’s all he talked about today.”

“Oh,” I said. The envelope in my hand felt suddenly hot. “Sorry.”

“No, trust me, it was a nice change from the usual,” he said.

I wondered what “the usual” was but didn’t ask. Instead, I said, “Do you want to come in? Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“You’re stalling,” he said. His pale gray eyes glinted with understanding.

Of course I was, but I did appreciate that he could see my BS for what it was. I glanced down at the envelope and saw the precise handwriting on the outside: Ms. Martin.

Was it a promising sign that I had been upgraded from Tenant? I wasn’t sure.

A chime sounded and he took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the display. “Gotta go,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”

Then he turned and walked down the steps. He didn’t stay and wait to see if I had a reply for Mr. Daire, as if this were an Austen novel and he was the footman with a return message. I wondered if that meant this was an eviction notice. Clearly, in that case, there’d be no need to wait since there was only one way this was ending.

I closed the door and locked it as he disappeared from view. I turned and tossed the envelope onto the counter. It didn’t feel as thick as the original rules. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? I had no idea.

As long as I didn’t open it, then I could live in blissful ignorance. I went into the kitchen and picked up my spoon. I ate at the counter, staring at the envelope, trying to guess what was inside. I lifted it up to the light, wondering if I would see the words Get Out through the envelope. No such luck.