“The groceries, the utilities, the broken plumbing from the time your friends stayed here, and the property damage.”

“Property damage?” Juliette scoffed.

“What property damage?”

“The cedar deck your guests scorched with their cigars,” I said.

“The antique rug in the guest room that you spilled red wine on and tried to hide under the bed.”

“Those were accidents,” Juliette said.

“Accidents cost money,” I said.

“And you are going to pay us back.”

The ceiling fan overhead wobbled on its metal rod, clicking softly with every rotation.

*Click. Click. Click.*

“How much?” Sarah asked.

She sounded genuinely curious.

“I estimate thirty-five thousand dollars,” I said.

Dan gasped.

“Annie, that’s…”

“That is a conservative estimate, Dan,” I said, cutting him off.

“And your mother is going to sign a note promising to pay it back in monthly installments.”

“I will do no such thing,” Juliette said.

She folded her arms, her chin tilted high.

“Then you can walk to the highway,” I said.

“It’s five miles. The sun will be up in about four hours.”

“This is extortion,” Juliette said.

“It’s a bill,” I said.