Five Years

| one

"So, you said you can commit to one year?" I asked, studying the woman sitting across from me. She hadn't even bothered to brush her hair. I sincerely hoped that wasn't an indicator of her cleanliness as a tenant.

"One year? That's going to be tough. I don't really know what I'll be doing next week, let alone next year," Desiree said with a half-hearted laugh. "This place is really nice."

She glanced around the impeccably clean and partially furnished basement suite.

"Yeah, so when I called you to arrange the interview, and you said you were okay with a one-year rental..."

Desiree shrugged. "I didn't think that was like, a sure thing. I thought it was still negotiable."

Facepalm. What did she think it meant when I put ONE YEAR LEASE, NO EXCEPTIONS on the rental listing? Someone, please tell me how that was confusing?!

I tried not to look as annoyed as I felt, but this was the third person who I'd shown the suite to who'd had red flags coming out their yingyang.

Why was it so hard to find a good, reliable tenant?

"It is definitely a sure thing. I am super busy and finding a new tenant halfway through the year isn't on my list of things to do. So unless you can sign the contract for one year..." I trailed off, hoping she'd fill in the blank.

Then, she had the audacity to look at me like I was the insane one. Bullet dodged.

After leading Desiree out of the basement and to the door of the side entrance into my small bungalow, I made my way back onto the main floor I called home.  I guess I shouldn't have referred to it as MY small bungalow. It felt like mine because I'd lived here and maintained it for the last few years. But technically, it belonged to my parents.

They invested in it, just as they had invested in my college education. They'd insisted on having a basement suite for rental income to offset the costs.

My parents used to look after finding renters, but the older I got, the more responsibility they put on me. And that was totally fair - I mean, I lived here for a good price. The least I could do was help and let my parents enjoy their retirement.

But this time around, I felt stuck. I needed to find a renter for this month, or I'd be putting up their portion of the rent. I knew finding a tenant this time would be more challenging since the last one I had was so unbelievably shitty. It was a nightmare

I was trying my best to avoid going through that again, so my bullshit radar was busy detecting any sign of future issues.

I sighed, grabbing my laptop from the coffee table. It was a warm, August afternoon, so I decided to grab a beer and sit out on the deck and check emails.

Maybe by some miracle, I would have a new message from a tidy, non-psychotic person interested in the basement suite. Preferably an old lady who might bake for me and offer to plant flowers in the empty beds out front. I just didn't have time for that with my work schedule.

But no such luck. I shut my laptop, and then my eyes, enjoying the warm air and the sun on my face. I must have dozed off because I woke up to my phone vibrating against the patio table. Smiling, I picked up when I saw it was James calling.

"Hey, you," I said.

"How goes the search for a basement dweller?"

I blew out a breath. "Honestly, it's terrible. Sometimes I wish no one lived below me."

"I bet." James paused for a long moment. "I'm actually calling because I have some bad news."

"Oh, no. What's up?" I asked.