The presence of the owner was strong despite the simple belongings. No matter who he was, he would not be happy to have me here. He would hate it. Jeb seemed to read my mind — or maybe the expression on my face was clear enough that he didn’t have to. “Now, now,” he said. “Don’t worry about that. This is my house, and this is just one of my many guest rooms. I say who is and isn’t my guest. Right now, you are my guest, and I am offering you this room.”
