“Yes, septic, but city water.”

“You know you can get hooked up to the city sewer, too, right?”

I do know that. It costs about fifteen thousand dollars to do the work. The city sent a letter about it a few years ago.

“How much would it cost to get someone to do the camera thing?” I tuck my hands beneath the points of my elbows, arms crossed over my stomach.

“Couple hundred bucks, maybe? But they’d be able to rotor out anything that’s in there, roots or whatever. That’ll cost more, obviously.” He spins a finger in the air. “You said you started having more issues after you got a tenant back there?”

I nod.

“He got a washer and a dryer over there? Dishwasher?”

“No dishwasher, but there is a washer and a dryer. Yes.”

“Probably an old toilet, too? The old one takes about six gallons for each flush. You might oughtta invest in some new ones. Way more efficient. Anyway,” the plumber says, “all that extra use could be putting more of a strain on the system. Honestly, I’d get someone out there to take a look at that old tank. They do fail after a time.”

“Could he have been doing something to make it fail? On purpose, I mean.”

The plumber looks bemused. “I guess so. He could be flushing stuff that’s not meant to be flushed. If he really wanted to bork your system, yeah, he could do that. He could be running water, nonstop, something like that. Has your water bill been noticeably higher? More than normal extra use?”

“I haven’t had the quarterly bill yet.”

He taps the side of his temple. “Keep an eye on it. But it’s probably just age. And if you think your tenant is deliberately trying to ruin it, you might oughtta consider booting him out.”

I would if I could.

The plumber says the company can send a bill, and I take that option. Buy now, pay later. I’m used to that.

I busy myself with my usual Friday afternoon tasks but pause at setting the table. Two places, or three? Will Ken be home for dinner? He’s been gone since the morning after I saw him sneaking across the yard; he never even came to bed that night and left before I got up. It’s been four days.

Four days of seeing the lights on in the carriage house, late into the night. Strange cars in the driveway at all hours. Strange people leaving. Music thumping. Christian hasn’t contacted me at all. Not once.

I do hate him.

My son doesn’t, though.

I don’t want to give Christian any credit for any of it, but I also can’t deny that Eli’s friendship with him has seemed to encourage a blossoming. A confidence Eli didn’t used to have. He even has friends, or at least kids he’s been hanging out with after school. People are texting and calling him.

“Mom, Christian says he’s getting tickets to a Blizzrd show, and he’s going to take me.” Eli waits until after I’ve said the blessing over the challah to announce this, but his tone tells me he was just waiting for the chance.