Page 416 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Doreen nearly squealed. “Oh, yay!” She clapped her hands together and held them there, ordering, “Harry, go get my cane.”

It appeared these two were completely unconcerned that two strangers had just magically appeared inside their home. I was both relieved for us and terrified for them. Obviously, they needed someone to keep an eye on them. I tried not to laugh as I pictured Charlotte as their future caregiver.

“Doreen—”

“Harry, go! You know I can’t climb the stairs with my walker.”

Harry glowered, not altogether dissimilar from the look Charlotte was giving me, in fact. I guess, no matter their age, couples are all the same in some simple sense. One brain versus another, just trying to find some middle ground without giving in to the urge to commit murder.

“Fine,” Doreen huffed, turning to go back down the hall. “I’ll get it myself. But consider yourself in the doghouse!”

Harry muttered to himself before following her back where they’d come from. No doubt he was going to grovel or apologize, whatever he’d figured out worked in the world of Doreen sometime in the last sixty or so years.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte whispered angrily, yanking my arm to turn me to face her.

I shrugged playfully. “Going on a tour of the house.”

“My house.”

I winced. “Looks like you’re not the only person who thinks that.”

She smacked at my shoulder, and I laughed. “Come on! This isn’t funny. This is my house. We have to get rid of them.”

I chuckled dryly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course. We’ll just tell them the home they’ve had for nearly sixty years is ours and they have forty-eight hours to get out.”

Charlotte huffed. “We’ll be nicer than that.”

I ran the back of my hand along the line of her jaw and smiled. “That’s what I’m doing. Easing into it. Let’s get to know them. Get their story. Then we’ll know how to handle it, okay?”

“Ugh. Fine. But I sure hope Doreen and Harry are into ménage because if they’re not going, I’m still moving in, and I fully intend to live in the goddamn master.”

It’d been almost a week since I’d won my house—and then subsequently found out that I couldn’t move in to my house. We’d gone on the Harry and Doreen tour a few days ago, and I had to say, those two were pretty fucking adorable and seemingly helpless. I mean, it took them until the end of the tour to finally question how we’d gotten into their house, and when I’d vaguely admitted the sheriff’s office had given me a key, they hadn’t continued that line of questioning.

Either they knew a lot more than they let on, or they were completely clueless. Neither explanation felt good. And no matter what they knew or didn’t know, or if they were acting oblivious on purpose, guilt clenched my gut every time I thought about giving them the boot.

But, it was my house. I’d paid good money for it, and I was tired of living in my shitty apartment, especially when I knew almost eighty percent of my bank account had gone to a much bigger, way more beautiful place.

The house had a fenced-in terrace and a rain shower, for fuck’s sake. It also had an out-of-date kitchen, creaking floors, and stains on ninety percent of the upstairs carpet, but those were remarkably easy fixes for the chance to have some space.

Which explained why tonight, while sitting inside Nick’s apartment without any work responsibilities hanging over my head, I scoured through everything Google could provide on sheriff’s auctions in its search engine.

I had to find a way to get them out of there without leaving them high and dry and without any place to live.

“Apparently, I'm supposed to let the sherriff's department know the house still has the original tenants, and they send them a written notice to vacate,” I explained as I read through various online forums with equally nightmarish situations as mine. “How in the hell am I going to make Doreen and Harry leave their home? They love it like a baby…a baby Doreen could never have.” They’d shared their sad story of infertility as we’d listened, a fresh pot of soup steaming on the stove, the table set for dinner.

What? They’re likeable and my stomach was growling. Doreen offered to feed the beast. Am I supposed to have the willpower to say no to that kind of thing?

“Uh-oh.” Nick smirked at me from his kitchen as he poured a fresh cup of coffee.

“What?”

“You like them.”

“No, I don't,” I retorted, but I didn't even believe myself.

“You like them, and worst of all, they already have your sympathy.”

I let his words sink in and sighed. “Ugh. Can you blame me?”