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We’d left too many houses in a hurry in the past and left them damaged or in a shambles somehow, or else left owing rent and maybe having to move our things in the middle of the night.This time it was a point of honor to leave this house clean, to leave it immaculate, to leave it in better condition even than we had found it, and after we’d set the date we were going to leave, we had set to work with a passion to erase any signs of ourselves in that house. So when Betty came to the door and knocked, we were hard at work in different rooms of the house and didn’t hear her at first. Then she knocked again, a little louder, and I put down my cleaning materials and came out of the bedroom.
    “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said, the color high in her cheeks. She was a little, compact woman with blue slacks and a pink blouse that hung out over her slacks. Her hair was short and brown and she was somewhere in her late forties, younger than Pete. She had been waitressing at Pete’s restaurant and was friends with Pete and his first wife, Evelyn, Leslie’s mother. Then, we had been told, Evelyn, who was only fifty-four, was returning home from a shopping trip into Eureka. Just as she pulled off the highway into the parking lot behind the restaurant and headed across the lot for her own driveway, her heart stopped. The car kept going, slowly enough, but with enough momentum to knock down the little wood rail fence, cross her flower bed of azaleas, and come to a stop against the porch with Evelyn slumped behind the wheel, dead. A few months later, Pete and Betty had married, and Betty had quit waitressing and become stepmother to Leslie and grandmother to Leslie’s children. Betty had been married before and had grown children living in Oregon who drove down now and then to visit. Betty and Pete had been married for five years, and from what we could observe they were happy and well suited to each other.
    “Come in, please, Betty,” I said. “We’re just cleaning up some around here.” I moved aside and held the door.
    “I can’t,” she said. “I have the children I’m looking after today. I have to get right back. But Pete and I were wondering if you could come to dinner before you leave.” She spoke in a quiet, shy manner and held a cigarette in her fingers. “Friday night?” she said. “If you can.”
    Sarah brushed her hair and came to the door. “Betty, come in out of the cold,” she said. The sky was gray and the wind was pushing clouds in off the sea.
    “No, no, thank you, I can’t. I left the children coloring, I have to get back. Pete and I, we just wondered if you two could come to dinner. Maybe Friday night, the night before you leave?” She waited and looked shy. Her hair lifted in the wind and she drew on her cigarette.
    “I’d like that very much,” Sarah said. “Is that all right with you, Phil? We don’t have any plans, I don’t think. Is it all right?”
    “That’s very nice of you, Betty,” I said. “We’d be happy to come to dinner.”
    “About 7:30?” Betty said.
    “Seven thirty,” Sarah said. “This pleases us very much, Betty. More than I can say. It’s very kind and thoughtful of you and Pete.”
    Betty shook her head and was embarrassed. “Pete said he’s sorry you’re leaving. He said it’s been like having more family here. He said it’s been an honor having you here as renters.” She started backing down the steps. The color was still high in her cheeks. “Friday night, then,” she said.
    “Thank you, Betty, I mean that,” Sarah said. “Thank you again. It means a lot to us.”
    Betty waved her hand and shook her head. Then she said, “Until Friday, then,” and the way in which she said it somehow made my throat tighten. I shut the door after she’d turned away, and Sarah and I looked at each other.
    “Well,” Sarah said, “this is a switch, isn’t it? Getting invited to dinner by our landlord instead of having to skip town and hide out