Do Not Thank the Host

How it begins

Julia Price found the gift waiting where the house-sitting instructions said to leave her shoes.

The box was cream, the ribbon dark red, the card written in a hand too careful to seem spontaneous.

For everything you will do for us.

Inside lay a watch worth more than the fee for the entire month.

Julia shut the lid. She had been house-sitting for six years. Generosity before a job began usually meant the instructions would grow.

Her telephone rang before she could send a message.

'You found it,' the host said.

'It's too much.'

'Please don't insult us.'

'I mean I can't accept it.'

A pause.

'We'd love a photograph of you wearing it. Just a small public thank-you.'

Julia looked toward the window. The neighboring gardener stood beside the hedge, cutting a branch that had grown through the gate. He glanced up, saw her face and did not wave.

She told the host she would call back after checking the property. He said gratitude was important in a home built on trust.

Outside, Mark Fox put down his secateurs.

'You haven't posted anything?' he asked.

Julia held up the unopened box.

'How did you know?'

'The last sitter asked me to take the photograph.'

'What happened to her?'

'She left.'

He said it as though leaving had involved more than packing a case.

On Julia's screen, a message arrived from the host. A link led to a public page containing photographs of smiling former guests, each wearing a different expensive gift.

Under the latest image, someone had written that decent people did not abandon those who had treated them like family.

Julia looked at the gate. It opened freely. She tested it anyway, wanting to establish at least one fact before generosity became another thing she was expected to prove she deserved.