“I’m not doing it because of the chair.”
She looked at me.
“I’m doing it because of what happened after the chair.”
That was the truth.
The chair had merely exposed something that had been there for years.
I had spent five years protecting people who had stopped seeing my help as kindness.
They saw it as an obligation.
Melissa drove the post into the lawn.
The sign went up.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the front door opened.
Linda stepped outside carrying a mug.
She saw the sign.
She froze.
Her mug lowered slowly.
“Ian?”
Ron appeared behind her.
His expression changed when he saw the lawn.
“What is that?”
Melissa smiled professionally.
“A For Sale sign.”
“I can see that!” Ron snapped. “Why is it there?”
I answered from the driveway.
“Because I own the house.”
Ron stared at me.
Linda’s face went pale.
