“The same person who lets a loose door scrape off half their siding, apparently,” he reported, having finally gotten the sliding door open. Fresh air was coming in now, a stark contrast to the dankness. He stuck his head out, examining the damage. “Boy. Forget the deposit. She’s in for more than that with this repair alone.”

Now that I could see, I went over to the windows and carefully eased off a large piece of duct tape to take down another bag. It took up paint, leaving behind black, sticky residue. Still, the light made me feel better, so I started taking them all down. Luke pitched in, and soon the room was flooded with sunshine. Which, honestly, just made things look worse. The door was still banging.

“I’m going to get the toolbox from my truck,” he said, as I surveyed the clutter and damage again. “I can at least take it off that hinge. Okay?”

I nodded, dumbly, and he headed to the door, clapping my shoulder on the way out. He knew better than to offer anything more positive.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, just staring, before I heard Ivy behind me. She was just suddenly there. “What’d you do to the windows?”

I turned, slowly, to face her. “Me? What did I do to the windows?”

She pointed at them. “I had them covered for a reason.”

“With garbage bags and duct tape?” I was pretty sure I was shrieking.

“I’m very light sensitive,” she told me.

“Then sleep in a hole, not an oceanfront mansion!” Okay, I was shrieking. “I can’t believe you did this to this room. It was perfect before you moved in. Pristine. And now—”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” she said, looking around.

“Are you an animal?” I demanded. She looked at me, surprised. “Seriously. Because only animals live like this.”

“It’s just messy,” she told me. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” I repeated. “The owners of this place are expecting to move in as soon as you leave. Which, by the looks of this, will probably be today.”

“You can’t kick me out,” she said. “I have a contract.”

“Read it,” I said, gesturing around me. “You’re in violation.”

Now, she actually looked sort of worried. “I have to stay here until I finish this phase of the project. Especially since I’m working alone now.”

“You should have thought about that before you trashed someone else’s house.”

In response, she picked up a Diet Coke bottle from the floor, then another one beside it, tucking them under her arm. “It’s not trashed. It’s just messy. Watch, I can fix it.”

“The outside of the house is scraped clean of paint,” I said, my voice flat. “Can you fix that?”

“Probably not,” she admitted, still gathering up bottles, now at a faster clip. “But you can. Right?”

I just looked at her. “Why on earth would I help you?”

Her arms were full of bottles now. “You help everyone else.”

“What?”

“You do!” she said, turning and dumping them out into the hallway. “You helped Theo, and Clyde . . .”

“That was different. They’re my friends.”

She looked up at me, one of the laptops now in her hands. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.”

“Ivy. We’re not friends,” I told her as she walked over to the bedside table, the laptop’s cord dragging behind her, knocking bottles over as it went. Watching the plug approach an open box of Kix, I couldn’t help myself. I went over and picked it up. “You don’t even like me.”

“That’s not true,” she said, dumping the laptop on the bed. I picked up another box of cereal, as well as a couple of more bottles. “I have no feelings about you whatsoever.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” I picked up the two mugs. “Oh, for God’s sake. I’m going to get a trash bag.”

“Maybe bring the box,” she called out, as I stomped down the hallway, passing Luke on his way back in with his toolbox.

“Are we leaving?” he asked.

“No. We’re cleaning,” I told him. Then I hit the laundry room closet, where just about everything I’d stocked at the beginning of the season—cleansers, wipes, mops, and sprays—remained basically untouched. Even the vacuum cleaner still had a plastic cover on the plug. Unbelievable.

Back in the bedroom, Ivy was still picking up things off the floor, while Luke was working on the hinge with a screwdriver. I walked over to the red stain with some carpet cleaner, taking out my aggression on the pump until it was totally saturated. “This better come up.”

“It’s just tomato juice,” she told me.

“Just?” I said.

Outside the open door, Luke snickered. I looked at him, and he reared back. “Sorry. No offense. But if you could see your face right now . . .” He trailed off, biting his lip.

“This is so not funny,” I told him.

“You’re exactly right,” he replied, now straight-faced. “It’s dire.”

Now, Ivy laughed, and I glared at her. “Sorry. I laugh when I’m nervous. What? You are really kind of scary right now.”

“If I were you, I’d stop talking,” I told her. “Otherwise, I’m out of here and you can deal with this on your own.”