Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out
“It is in my green folder,” I said. “Under the passenger seat.”
He nodded once, his chin dropping toward his collar. “The law in Oregon is very specific about tenant-owned appliances. If you paid for it, and the original is gone, you have the right to remove it.”
“The old stove is still in my father’s garage,” I said.
“He will have to bring it back,” Keith said.
We drove in silence for ten blocks, the gray sky turning a lighter shade of slate. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets black and glossy like coal. My fingers felt stiff from the cold, but the weight of the key in my hand was solid.
“Is this the turn?” Keith asked.
“The next one,” I said. “Behind the brick bakery.”
The alley behind the Elm Street building was narrow, lined with green plastic garbage bins and wet cardboard boxes. Keith backed the truck up to the metal fire escape with three short, loud revs of the engine. He pulled the emergency brake, and the cab settled with a long hiss of air.
