Mister Fixit

  Chapter Eleven

  WE SIT OUT IN THE back yard at a crappy little card table on two rickety chairs I found in the basement. Leah spreads an old curtain on the top of the table and places a brand new scented candle she bought for me in the center, lighting it with the plumber’s borrowed lighter.

  “Damn, he’s cute,” she says, holding the lighter up for emphasis.

  “I know, right? Damn.” I bite into a hunk of rice and raw salmon.

  “You said he’s the plumber?”

  I nod, swallowing.

  “Maybe my pipes need some looking after,” she says, looking off into the distance as if she’s really contemplating it.

  I laugh and nudge her under the table with my foot. “You’re bad. James would kick him out.”

  “Meh,” Leah waves me off, “James lets me look. He knows I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but with him. Besides … I’m about as unattractive as a woman can get at this point.” She rubs her well-rounded belly. “Walking, talking birth control, is what I am.”

  I bark out a laugh. “No, don’t say that. You’re beautiful. You’re glowing.”

  She snorts. “That glow? It’s sweat, not the fancy fairy dust everyone pretends you practically fart out when you’re pregnant.”

  I choke on my next bite of sushi. “Oh my gob,” I say, holding my hand out to catch the falling rice.

  “Sorry. Did I say that out loud? Anyway, let’s talk about Rob.”

  I shake my head, throwing the rice I caught out onto the weeds. “No thanks.”

  “I want to help you move past this, or come up with a game plan.”

  I shrug, getting angry just thinking about it. “It’s just going to take some time. And some more holes in my walls.”

  “Is that you who put that monster hole in that living room wall?” she asks with a grin.

  “Yep, that was me. Last night around midnight.”

  “You’d better be careful. You don’t want to knock down the wrong wall and have the whole ceiling cave in on you. Do you have a hardhat? You should have a hardhat. A pink one. Female power and all that.”

  “Hmm. That’s the one thing I haven’t bought yet, I think.” I grin at her as she does the same at me.

  “I’ll get one too,” she says. “A purple one.”

  I lift my soda can at her and clink her bottle of water. “Cheers.”

  “Here’s to safety gear,” she says. “And cute plumbers.”

  “Hot plumbers, you mean,” I say, taking a sip of my soda.

  A male voice comes from my left. “Excuse me, ladies. Don’t mean to disturb, but I have that estimate for you if you’re ready.”

  I choke on my soda when I realize the plumber was standing right there when I declared his sexy-temperature to be hot.

  Leah leans over and pats me on the back. “There you go. Easy now.”

  I hold up a finger in his direction. “Be right there,” I say in a hoarse voice.

  He disappears inside, the gentleman that he is.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper, half laughing, half horrified.

  “Well, at least there will be no mystery in this relationship,” Leah says, smiling and staring off into the distance. “You have to admit … it’s a great how-we-met story.”

  I slap her hand. “Stop. I have to go in and talk to this guy, and I need to keep a straight face.”

  She waves me on. “Go ahead. I’m going to eat my fried rice and come up with names for your children.” She pauses and then starts again. “Henry… Wilbur… Wolfgang.”

  “Oh my god,” I say, walking up to the back steps, “please tell me James is going to be in charge of naming my nephew.” I go inside to the sound of her complaints.

  “Hey! I’m a good name picker!”

  The plumber is waiting for me in the kitchen. “Here you go,” he says, handing me several sheets of paper, acting cool as a cucumber. Maybe he didn’t hear me after all. “I can get this to you by email in neater form, but I thought you might want to get your hands on something right away.”

  Get my hands on something? Yikes. Okay, maybe he did hear me and now he’s playing with me. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.

  I take the papers from him, nearly yelping when our fingers touch. Did he mean what I think he meant? I glance up at him through my lashes, but he’s busy putting his pen away, not looking at me all smoldering and sexy as if he’s waiting for me to take him up on some kind of other-than-plumbing offer.

  I look down at the paper and the price catches my eye, making me forget all about how sexy this guy is. “Eighteen thousand dollars?” I look up, part of me waiting for him to point and me and yell, ‘Gotcha!’ But instead, he just nods.

  “Yep. That’s assuming you want a full bath in the master and not just the tub that’s there now.”

  I nod, because yes I do want a full bath in there, but also because nodding is much more polite than crying.

  “So, give me a call if you’re interested.”

  This time I could swear I hear something else in his voice, but I don’t bother looking up. Eighteen thousand dollar price tags have a tendency to make me lose focus on things like sparkling green eyes and strong jaws.

  “Will do,” I say, finally looking up to shake his hand. “I’m going to get back to lunch. Can you see yourself out?”

  “Sure thing. I look forward to hearing from you.” He smiles, lets go of my hand, and walks away, the front door shutting softly behind him.

  I’m still staring at the pages of work he’s proposed when I walk out into the backyard.

  “So, he ask you out?” Leah asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but he probably should have before he presented me with this bill.” I put it on the table for her to see it.

  “Wow, eighteen grand? Does he have to do the entire house over again or what?”

  “I guess so.” I sit down and stare at my sushi. It’s not nearly as appetizing as it was.

  “You can get other estimates, but I’ll bet they’ll be about the same.”

  I look up at her. “Really? Have you done construction before?”

  She shrugs. “Just some stuff at James’s place, but I’m looking at what he says he’s going to do here,” she points at the paper, “and the hourly rate. It doesn’t look unreasonable. It’s just a big job.” She smiles and pushes the paper over to me. “But that’s what you wanted, right? That’s why you bought this pile of junk instead of a place already put together.”

  “Hey!” I take the paper and put it next to me. “Pile of junk? That’s not nice.”

  Leah gives me a goofy smile. “Oops. Sorry. Did I just insult your baby?”

  The word ‘baby’ hurts, but I shrug and smile anyway. “Maybe.”

  “I’m sorry. She’s got great bones, this baby of yours. I’m sure when you’re done with her, she’ll be the prettiest one in the neighborhood.”

  I laugh. “That’s not going to be hard.”

  “You know what I meant.” She tilts her head at me. “What’s the problem? Is it the price tag or the fact that it’s a lot of work?”

  “What do you mean?” I take another bite of my lunch.

  “What I mean is, I know you have the money for these estimates. Shoot, you could probably pay to have the thing demolished and a brand new one put up. So what’s the problem? Why are the estimates bumming you out?”

  I sigh. “I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine.” I throw the last bite of my California roll down on the plastic dish it came in and close the thing up.

  “I think this Cassie business is really killing you.”

  I nod, afraid to try and speak. It is killing me. She’s right. I feel myself dying inside a little more every day.

  “I think it was handled badly.”

  I want to say something, but I don’t trust myself not to insult the man she loves. He was partly to blame. He gave Robinson the green light to make the decision for all of us.

  She continues, oblivious to my internal str
uggle. “But now that it’s happened, there’s not a lot we can do, but I don’t think that means we can do nothing.”

  I don’t want to be so stupid as to hope for something that I know will never be, so I just listen with half an ear. The other part of me is very far away — somewhere where I can’t be hurt anymore.

  “I think we should all sit down, without Jeremy or Sarah at first, and talk about what happened and what maybe should have happened, and then work from there.”

  I gather up all my garbage and shove it into the bag it arrived in. “It won’t do any good. The past is the past. We all just need to move on.”

  “I think ignoring things that really hurt you and damaged your relationships with your brothers and Robinson is a very bad idea.” She places her hand over mine, stilling my movements. “I see what you’re going through. You’re miserable and trying to pretend you’re okay.”

  I pull away from her, standing. “That’s what I have to do. Fake it until I make it.” I start walking to the back door under the guise of needing to clean-up, trying to escape her prying words and attempts at mediating a reconciliation.

  “That’s not how this kind of thing works,” she says, awkwardly trying to follow me, but her chair is not cooperating.

  I have to wait for her because she looks so damn pitiful. “Says who?”

  She finally stands upright and looks at me, her face flushed. “Says the girl who’s intimately familiar with the power of karma, that’s who.” She clomps through the weeds to my bottom stair, standing just below me. “Just do what I say and nobody will get hurt.”

  I laugh, knowing she means well, but also fully aware of the fact that I’ve already been hurt enough. And she can’t guarantee my safety any more than my brothers or my attorney could.

  “Come over for dinner tomorrow,” she suggests. “It’s just going to be James and Rob, nobody else.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  I smile weakly. “Take your pick.”

  She sighs heavily, but comes into the house with me. Thankfully, she takes the hint and lets sleeping dogs lie for the rest of her visit, and I see her off thirty minutes later with a kiss and a promise to stay in touch.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’M EATING PIZZA WHILE STANDING at the kitchen counter when I hear my front door open.

  “Anybody home?” he asks.

  Robinson.

  I can’t believe the nerve of him. He just walks into my house after I told him to get the hell away and never come back? And I thought I locked that damn thing. How did he get in? I must have just left it open. Damn. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t Little House on the Prairie, for God’s sake. A gangbanger could walk in here and I’d have to offer him a slice of pepperoni pizza.

  I keep chewing my slice, hoping if I’m quiet enough, he’ll give up and go away.

  I should have known better, though. He comes around the corner and looks startled when he sees me. Then he smiles. “Hey there. I wasn’t sure if you were home or not.”

  “So you just decided to walk in.” I keep chewing, even though my food tastes like cardboard now.

  “Thought you could use some help. I came dressed to work.” He looks down at his flannel and jeans. Even his work boots look like they’ve seen some action. I hate that he’s better at this than I am.

  “No thanks. I’m all set.”

  His gaze drops to the counter where I have all the estimates lined up. All told, I have two roofing estimates, two plumbing ones, three willing electricians, and one landscape guy.

  “Wow, you’ve been busy. Day two, and you already have all these estimates? Good for you.”

  I want to throw my soda in his face, but I steady my hand in my pocket instead where it can’t do any harm. Rationally I know he’s just trying to be nice; but I don’t want him to pretend to be something he’s really, really not.

  He walks over to get a better look at my paperwork. “Oh, ouch. That one hurts.” He points to my first roofing estimate, fifty percent higher than the second one I received just an hour ago from a guy who actually went up into the attic.

  I don’t say anything in response. Maybe he’ll get the hint and leave if I don’t engage in any conversation at all.

  “I know this company,” he says, pointing to the hot plumber. “They have a great reputation.”

  I think about the email I got from that guy on my phone just an hour ago. He offered to go over the estimate at dinner. I considered it an offer for a date, not a plumbing job, and I wasn’t really interested until I just found out that Robinson knows of him.

  “The owner asked me out,” I say, hoping it’ll make Robinson mad. Maybe Leah’s right. Maybe he was harboring a secret crush on me. I almost wish it were true, just so this admission of mine will make him regret something for once.

  Robinson shrugs. “I don’t know him personally.” He looks up. “He a nice guy?”

  I shrug too. If he can play it cool, so can I. “Don’t know. Just met him. Seems nice enough. Very good-looking.”

  Robinson’s gaze flickers and then he’s looking at the estimates again. “So your plan is to open this space up, I take it.” He points to something on the plumbing papers. “He’s going to re-route all those pipes.” His thumb jabs over his shoulder at the wall I ruined. In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to do that without first having a plan. The plumber, Jake, was kind enough to point this out without making me seem like a complete idiot.

  “Yep.” I close the pizza box and wipe my hands off on a paper towel. “Listen, I was about to get back to work, so if you don’t mind…”

  Robinson is back to looking at me and smiling. “Sure. No problem. Where do you want to start?”

  “I don’t need your help.” I grit my teeth together in an effort to hold onto my temper.

  “Sure you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  “I’m not stubborn, Robinson. I’m actually very flexible and willing to do whatever needs to be done, especially when the shit is hitting the fan and everyone else is falling apart. But you know that about me already, don’t you? You don’t need me to tell you that.”

  “How about if I install your new front door lock and handle?”

  I left the hardware on the floor in the foyer, intending to watch some videos online to teach myself how to do it.

  “That’s on my list for tomorrow,” I inform him, glancing down at the list from hell that’s now onto its third page.

  “Great,” he says, moving into the other room. “We’ll be ahead of schedule, then.”

  I sigh long and loud, but ultimately decide to leave him to his Good Samaritan work. If he thinks this will earn him forgiveness from me, then he’s sorely mistaken. You don’t take a child from a woman and then come fix a front door lock and make everything okay. That’s not how the world works, and it’s definitely not how I work.

  I pick up my phone and read the email from the plumber again. He seemed really nice. Considerate. He smiled a lot too. Maybe that means he has a great sense of humor, someone I could hang out with and forget my miserable life for a few hours.

  I email him back, taking him up on the offer of a dinner to discuss the estimate. What the heck; even if he turns out to be a complete dode, at least I’ll learn a lot about plumbing so it won’t be a complete loss.

  When his positive response and the name of the restaurant come back, I smile to myself. He’s got class, too. He shows up to give estimates on time, he offers to explain said estimate to me over dinner, and he suggests a restaurant I only go to for special occasions? Color me impressed. Gee, maybe he’s the total package. Maybe he’s not the kind of person who would sell a girl out for an hourly rate of five hundred bucks an hour, unlike some people around here.

  I keep myself busy taking off cabinet doors in the kitchen that I plan to refinish as Robinson works at the front door. The cold air he’s letting in makes the place twice as freezing as it already wa
s, so I put my jacket on. My fingers are frozen by the time he’s done and back in the kitchen.

  “You should get a space heater,” he says, tipping the pizza box lid up.

  I climb down from my stepladder and shut the box on his hand.

  He looks up with a half-smile. “What? I can’t have pizza after laboring for a half hour over your lock?”

  When he says it, I realize how petty I’m being, so I let my hand fall away. “Better have done a good job.”

  He puts half a slice of pizza into his mouth and talks with his mouth full. “Check it out.” He uses his food to point toward the door.

  I walk away with my chin up. It better be perfect or I’m going to insist he take it all apart. I’m actually looking forward to it. Maybe if I humiliate him, he’ll finally get the hint and stop coming around.

  Unfortunately, the lock has been installed perfectly. It moves like it’s been greased with butter, and the new handle appears to be exactly level. Even after watching three how-to videos on my phone and reading the ridiculously complicated instructions, I was still very much in the dark about how to install it, but he just walked in and did it without a single request for help. I wanted him to be Mister Screwup so I could kick him out of here for good, but it turns out he’s Mister Fixit. Dammit. Why do all of my hopes fall to shit where he’s concerned?

  “What’s next?” he asks from behind me.

  I sigh and my shoulders sag as my chin rests on my chest. I feel totally and utterly defeated. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is working out in my favor. It seems stupid that I wished for this lock installation to fall flat when it’s my own home he’s helping repair, but I can’t change how I feel. It’s like the entire universe hates me. When I want something to go well, it goes bad. When I want something to go bad, it goes well. Every day is opposite day.

  “Nothing,” I finally answer. “There’s nothing next.” Tears make my eyes sting.

  Robinson steps closer. “Don’t say that. You have a list a mile long in there. Let me help lighten your load. I can build things, fix things…”