Summer Rental Read Online Free PDF Page B

the wood-slat shades in two of the bedrooms looked like somebody had taken a baseball bat to them.

    Ty had never worked as hard, or as feverishly. He had to replace the ruined twin-bed mattresses with a double bed he’d dragged out of the attic. The window shades were a total loss, so he rigged up some faded flowery curtains he found on a shelf at the back of the locked owner’s closet on the ground floor. He shoveled and mopped and scoured and plunged until his back and legs ached, and his hands were rubbed raw from all the bleach and disinfectant.
    Check-in time was only minutes away. He knew that without looking at his watch, because he’d received three more e-mails from friggin’ Ellis Sullivan, wanting to know why he couldn’t have access to the house, like, now. He hadn’t bothered to answer. He was too busy staving off disaster.
    And now he heard the tap of a car horn from the driveway. Not a blast, really, just a tap. He darted to the window and looked out. Christ! The silver Accord was parked in the driveway, blocking him in. And somebody was walking towards the door. No. It couldn’t be. But it was. Oh yeah. It was totally the dark-headed chick who’d caught him whizzing off his deck this morning. Ty Bazemore was having himself quite a day, all right.

 
    5
    On her third pass by Ebbtide, Ellis decided it was time to take action. She’d wasted half a day already. After all, it was five after two, so these people were now, officially, encroaching on her time. She pulled into the driveway and stared daggers at the Bronco, which was still parked in the garage. She gave two polite taps on the Accord’s horn. But the tap brought nobody scurrying out of Ebbtide. She glanced down again at her iPhone, but there was still no reply from Mr. Culpepper.
    She parked and walked briskly towards the house and up the front steps. She hesitated a moment before stepping onto the porch—her mother hadn’t raised her to be the sort of person who just went barging up to somebody else’s house. Even fifteen years of living up north couldn’t change that.
    “Hello?” she called softly. All was quiet. She took a good look around. The porch was broad, and although the clapboard frame of the house was brownish gray and unpainted, the trim was painted white. The porch railing had built-in benches that raked outwards, and a clothesline with bleached-out wooden clothespins was looped between the posts, just under the rafters. Four white rocking chairs were upended, two on either side of the front door. There was a galvanized tin pail half-filled with water sitting right beside the steps. PROPERTY OF EBBTIDE was painted on it in bright blue letters. She made her footsteps on the weathered gray porch boards loud and deliberate—sort of an early warning signal that she’d arrived.
    The hinges of the rusted screen door squeaked loudly when she pulled it open. There was no doorbell, so she knocked briskly on the periwinkle blue door. And then she knocked, and banged, and knocked some more. She walked over to the window, and cupping her hands, peered into the darkened room. The place looked neat enough, but there was no sign of life.
    Just then, her cell phone dinged softly, notifying her that she had an e-mail. She pulled it from the pocket of her capris and looked at the in-box.
    To: [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
    Subject: Check-in: Sorry, it is our policy not to allow early check-ins. After 2 pm, you’ll find the key to the front door in an envelope under the front doormat. Be advised there is a $25 fee for replacement keys. Enjoy your stay.
    “Prick,” Ellis muttered under her breath. She found the key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
    It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkened room. She found a light switch by the door and flipped it on. A ceiling fan hummed to life overhead.
    “Hmm,” she said, looking around. “Not too bad.” She was in a large combined living/dining