and getting into my car, I had stopped checking.
I had started acting.
At the property-records counter, a woman named Denise searched my cottage address.
“You’re Marianne Whitcomb?”
“Yes.”
She asked for identification.
Then she looked back at her screen.
“You’re the sole titled owner.”
Relief washed through me.
It lasted about four seconds.
Then Denise frowned.
“Have you authorized anyone to operate a short-term rental from this property?”
I froze.
“No.”
“There’s a pending seasonal rental registration attached to this address.”
“A what?”
“It was filed about six weeks
