I was going over before construction began on my eighth rental. My plan was to own the twenty houses surrounding the one I lived in. I’d done the math, and along with the money from my pittance of a trust fund, the rent should bring in enough for me to live comfortably. My luck, since moving to Sandy Shores, had improved appreciably, as had my bank account. I made a couple of calls to the contractor and printed off some financials for my next trip to the bank for another loan. Rover slept at my fee...