Free The Withdrawing Room by Charlotte MacLeod Page B

all still here. I hope to rent the front room that used to be Edith’s bedroom as soon as I can get it fixed up, but I’m in a quandary as to who’d take it. I don’t much want students because as you must have gathered, this whole enterprise is based on snob appeal. I took a chance on Jennifer LaValliere because she has family nearby and if they heard of any goings-on they’d ship her back to her parents in a hurry and she knows it. But if I got the sort who smoked pot and played disco records and whatnot, they’d blow the scene, as Charles might say in an unguarded moment. I’ve got to have somebody who’s willing to go along with the stately home act, yet not mind having to use the cellar stairs and share a bath with a couple who are just good friends.”
    “Them wedding bells shall not ring out, eh?”
    “Not according to Mariposa. She appears perfectly happy as she is. Anyway, she’s not quite sure about her last two divorces. She’s been getting them through some mail-order operation in Uruguay and it does sound a bit chancy, wouldn’t you say?”
    “I don’t know that I’d say chancy.” Bittersohn was eyeing the last mushroom on his plate. “It’s a shame I have no snob appeal.”
    “Oh, but you have tons!” gasped Sarah. “Mr. Bittersohn, you—you wouldn’t possibly consider—oh, dear, I know you already have a place and I’m being—pretend you didn’t hear me. I’ll get the dessert. Do you care for cheese with your apple pie?”
    “Cheese costs money, doesn’t it? You know, if you happened to be considering me as a prospective tenant, you could deduct the cost of this meal as a business expense.”
    “How could I ever think of you as a business expense? But as a tenant—Mr. Bittersohn, are you serious?”
    “You need a tenant who’s trained to keep a straight face under any and all conditions, right? And I need a place to hang out when I’m in town, don’t I?”
    “But you already have one.”
    “Wrong. I’ve had one. They’re turning the building into condominiums and I either have to buy a scroungy apartment I have no desire whatever to own or get out by the first of the month. You wouldn’t want to see me sitting in the middle of Bowdoin Street with all my worldly goods, namely two suitcases and a genuine hand-carved teak-wood back-scratcher presented as a token of esteem by a grateful client, would you?”
    “Of course not, but—I can’t believe it!”
    “So call up the real estate agents. I’ll give you their number. They’d sell you my place this minute, if you don’t mind paying an arm and a leg for two crummy rooms overlooking several acres of pigeon droppings. I may be homeless by the time I get back there, for all I know. Mrs. Kelling, I don’t smoke, I don’t shine my shoes on the bedspread because my mother brought me up right, I don’t own any disco records and wouldn’t play them if I did. I pay my rent a month in advance because I never know when or for how long I’ll be called out of town, and whatever you charge couldn’t be any worse than I’m getting stuck for now. I’d need to install a private phone, which of course I’d pay for myself. I sometimes have slightly weird visitors at odd hours, but I could make them come and go by the alley door in order not to tarnish your image. I’d as soon be in the basement because I’d probably feel more at home with the hired help than the paying guests. Do we have a deal or don’t we?”
    Sarah hesitated, then laughed. “Go give those sharks your notice and pack your back-scratcher. Your room will be ready for you by Monday morning.”

Chapter 8
    I T TOOK A GOOD deal of doing, but by Monday morning, fresh white paint was dry on the walls of what had been part of Edith’s lair for so many grievance-filled years. The room looked twice as big and bright as it ever had before. Sarah and Mr. Lomax had brought in the best of what they could glean from the now-depleted house at Ireson’s Landing: a pine